^•»1I»^^**-TW/,  •..;**-  '"^  '•dlf^'.'^Vf'T^ 


^''C^Ci^hi 


90 


••^''Ti':»^' 


i 


^/  //,'- 


;  .•/. 


/^'  y.. 


)  \,*'^'i  t^'^i  </^./-'!,j:< 


.  t 


fc  '.  "  .  ,^*  «^  '■   '  ^" 


,'9   ,' 


^■■/ .    -v  y\s 


Digitized  by  tine  Internet  Arciiive 

in  2007  witii  funding  from 

IVIicrosoft  Corporation 


littp://www.arcliive.org/details/cornucopiaorliornOObreericli 


f 


■/ , 


^ 


V 


FOR''THE  OOWJUPOPIA" 


THE 


.^F^OI^N  *  OF  *  ^LENrPY.Q 


ij^. 


Ui^iYersal  &rap4ook  for  the  Family. 


W.  W.  BREESE,  M.D., 


AUTHOR  OF 


''Twelve  Rules  of  Health  and  Glossary  of  Useful  Knowledge ; 

"Drifting,  a  Tale  True  to  Life;"  and 

"Well-springs  of  Truth." 


PUBLISHED   BY 


The  Southwestern  Publishing  House, 
NASHVILLE,  TENN., 


1885. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress  in  the  year  1S85, 

By  W.  W.  BREESE, 
In  the  office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress  at  Washington. 


UH^-t^i 


^OyyUjJSA^ 


PREFACE. 


IN  presenting  this  volume  to  the  pubHc,  I  am  but 
carrying  out  a  plan  formed  many  years  since. 
The  primary  object  is  to  present  a  book  of  such 
varied  character  as  to  adapt  it  to  all  ages,  conditions, 
and  temperaments,  supplying  mental  food  alike  to  the 
scholar  and  the  mere  beginner. 

It  will  be  borne  in  mind  that  many  of  these  articles 
have  been  gleaned  from  current  periodicals;  from 
this  cause  many  corrections  and  alterations  were 
needed,  and  all  this  I  have  most  carefully  attended 
to — I  trust,  to  the  satisfaction  of  all  my  readers.  Au- 
thorities have  been  consulted  with  great  diligence, 
and  no  means  of  rendering  the  work  accurate,  use- 
ful, and  entertaining  has  been  neglected. 

In    the   production  of  the  Biographical  Sketches, 

especially,  great  care  has  been    taken,  and    I    have 

written    numerous    letters    and    spent  much  time  in 

making  the  list  complete  and  satisfactory.     I  think, 

for  the  space  it  occupies,  that  it  Avill  be  found  the 

most  complete  of  any  yet  published.     I  shall    hope 

for  a  kind  reception  and  gentle  criticisms. 

W.  W.  BREESE. 
Nashville,  March  i6,  1885. 

(3) 

442803 


DEPARTMENTS. 


Children's  Hour        5 

Youths'  Department 61 

Educational  Department 121 

Sketches  for  Parents 151 

The  Family 191 

Hints  for  the  Household  .     .    '.     .     .     .  241 

Ladies'  Boudoir 291 

Sentimental  Scraps 341 

Humorous  Scraps 391 

Biographical  Sketches 451 

Historical  Sketches 527 

Natural  History 611 

Scientific  Information 675 

Travel  and  Adventure 721 

Medical  Notes 791 

Religious  Department 827 

'Legal  Department 907 

Fiction 941 

(4) 


HILDREN'S  *  HOUR. 

©BLBBI^ATED  ©HILDr^BN, 


BY  W.  AV.  BREESE. 


E  will  not  try  to  tell  you  about 
many  of  the  children  who  be- 
came celebrated  men.  We  will 
tell  you  about  a  few  who,  even 
as  children,  were  justly  cele- 
brated for  their  noble  qualities, 
and  afterwards  became  much 
more    w^idely   known    for   their 


great  virtues 


and 


good  works. 


We  want  all  of  our  little  readers 
to  pattern  after  these  children, 
and  try  to  form  habits  of  thought,  truth,  care,  and 
obedience,  while  they  are  very  young,  and  then  they 
will  surely  be  rnuch  happier  and  more  honored  when 
they  grow  old. 

elOSBPH. 

This  little  boy  had  an-  old  father,  and  also  a  number 
of  brothers,  or  rather  half-brothers,  as  we  would  say 
now;  for  he  had  only  one  real  brother,  whose  name 
was  Benjamin.  The  rest  were  his  father's  children 
by  other  mothers.     His  ow^n  mother  died  while  he 

(5) 


•  I  l'    •  t  "  ''^  * » •  •    * 

6  CHILDREN'S  HOUR. 

was  quite  young.  This  made  his  father  love  him  very 
much;  and  no  doubt  the  old  man  kept  him  about 
home  and  talked  to  him  a  great  deal  of  the  time,  thus 
trying  to  educate  him  to  be  the  great  and  good  man 
which  he  afterwards  became.  There  were  no  books, 
,  such  as  we  now  have,  when  Joseph  was  a  boy;  or  at 
least  nothing  except  very  meager  written  sheets  or 
parchments,  and  it  is  doubtful  if  they  even  knew  any 
thing  about  written  words.  Had  there  been  any 
books  in  that  day,  we  may  be  sure  that  Joseph  would 
have  been  eager  to  learn  from  them,  and  that  he 
would  never  have  played  truant,  or  tried  to  stay  out 
of  school,  as  we  fear  some  one  who  reads  this  has 
done. 

The  brothers  of  Joseph  were  bad  boys,  some  of 
them  worse  than  the  others,  and  his  father  had  been 
a  bad  man  in  his  early  life,  or  at  least  he  had  done  a 
good  many  bad  things.  But  you  know  how  some 
men  who  have  been  bad  drinkers  and  swearers  some- 
times repent,  and  God  forgives  them  and  helps  them, 
to  do  much  good  before  they  die.  So  Jacob  (for  that 
was  the  name  of  Joseph's  father)  had  repented  of  his 
evil  deeds,  and  God  forgave  him,  and  now  he  taught 
his  son  Joseph  not  to  do  any  of  the  evil  things  which 
his  father  Jacob  had  done,  and  other  wicked  things 
that  his  half-brothers  were  doing.  You  will  notice 
that  not  many  men  who  were  bad  boys  ever  get  to 
be  great  men!  We  have  read  the  lives  of  a  great 
many  presidents,  generals,  governors,  and  celebrated 
men,  and  we  do  not  now  remember  a  single  instance, 
although  there  may  have  been  some  such  who  be- 
came good  men,  and  rose  to  be  respected  and  honored 
in  their  manhood. 


JOSEPH.  ^  7 

Jacob  loved  Joseph  so  much  that  he  finally  did 
what  a  great  many  other  foolish  fathers  and  mothers 
do  for  their  children,  and  usually  with  even  more 
serious  consequences  than  happened  to  Joseph.  He 
dressed  him  out  in  a  guady-colored  coat,  so  stylish  and 
attractive  as  to  make  the  others  envious  of  him,  and 
perhaps  made  Joseph  somewhat  vain  and  disagree- 
able, like  a  great  many  children  are  nowadays  when 
they  get  on  very  fine  clothes,  and  go  strutting  about 
the  house  and  the  streets,  showing  how  vain  they  are. 

Whether  Joseph  was  at  all  vain  or  not,  we  do  not 
know.  But  his  brothers  became  very  jealous  of  him; 
that  is,  all  but  Benjamin,  who  was  only  a  little  boy, 
still  younger  than  Joseph.  We  think  it  likely  that 
Joseph  was  a  little  spoiled  by  this  fine  coat,  for  he 
began  to  dream  such  dreams  as  showed  that  even  in 
his  sleep  he  thought  himself  of  great  importance. 
He  dreamed  one  night  that  he  was  out  in  the  harvest- 
field  binding  barley  with  his  brethren,  when  he  stood 
up  his  sheaf  on  one  end,  and  his  brethren  stood  up 
their  sheaves,  when  they  all  tumbled  over  on  the 
ground  towards  his  sheaf,  just  like  the  people  in  the 
old  countries  do  to  this  day  when  their  king  goes  by. 
They  all  believed  this  dream  meant  that  Joseph  ex- 
pected to  be  king  some  time. 

He  had  another  dream,  too,  about  this  time,  in 
which  he  thought  he  went  out  in  a  beautiful  moon- 
light night,  and  behold  the  moon  and  all  the  stars 
bowed  down  to  him  and  honored  him  as  though  he 
had  been  a  king.  Besides  this,  he  used  to  tell  tales 
to  his  father  about  his  brothers'  wickedness,  which 
exasperated  them  very  much.  We  do  not  believe 
that  Joseph  told  an}^  thing  that  was  not  true,  but  he 


S  CHILDREN'S  HOUR. 

answered  the  questions  of  his  father,  and  would  never 
join  the  others  in  their  wicked,  filthy  talk  and  actions. 
We  do  not  think  Joseph  ever  uttered  a  bad  word,  or 
told  an  untruth,  or  did  a  mean  act.  He  may  have 
been  a  little  vain  of  his  fine  clothes,  but  it  was  the 
fault  of  his  father  that  he  wore  such  a  fine  coat,  and 
not  his  own.  Fortunately  for  this  boy,  as  we  shall 
soon  see,  he  did  not  wear  this  coat  long  enough  to 
turn  his  head. 

His  brothers  got  so  jealous  of  him  that  they  con- 
stantly teased  and  tormented  him,  until  we  suppose  he 
dreaded  to  meet  them  when  his  father  was  not  around. 
It  is  the  same  in  this  age,  for  we  have  seen  many  boys 
who  were  trying  to  live  as  Christians  should  live,  and 
who  loved  Jesus  and  tried  to  serve  him,  that  were  con- 
stantly tormented  and  tantalized  by  mischievous,  bad 
boys,  who  hated  to  see  others  so  much  happier  and 
better  than  themselves.  But  we  hope  all  who  read 
this  will  be  brave,  like  Joseph  was,  and  not  be  afraid 
to  do  right,  even  if  it  does  make  others  angry,  and 
subject  you  to  the  jeers  and  sneers  of  those  bad  boys 
who  say  you  are  "tied  to  your  mother's  apron- 
strings!"  It  is  a  good  deal  better  to  be  tied  to  your 
mother's  apron-strings  than  to  be  chained  fast  in  the 
devil's  service,  like  so  many  are;  and  it  is  a  good  deal 
braver  and  better  to  do  right  in  the  fq^e  of  such  op- 
position than  fight  a  thousand  battles. 

Joseph  was  now  pretty  well  grown.  He  was  more 
than  seventeen  years  of  age,  when  his  father  sent  him 
one  day  to  visit  his  brothers,  who  had  gone  off  quite 
a  long  way  to  herd  their  cattle  and  sheep,  and  all  the 
other  animals,  just  like  people  in  the  South  and  West 
go  away  for  the  summer  with  their  cattle  now.     Per- 


JOSEPH.  9 

haps  Joseph  carried  some  salt  along,  and  if  there  had 
been  any  family  newspapers  in  that  day,  or  new  books 
coming  out,  he  would  have  carried  some  of  these  also; 
for  Jacob  loved  his  bad  boys,  just  like  many  a  father 
to-day  loves  his  wicked  children,  who  are  causing 
him  great  sorrow.  Perhaps  Joseph  also  loved  his 
half-brothers,  for  they  had  been  brought  up  together, 
and  in  spite  of  their  teasing  and  tormenting  him,  he 
may  have  loved  them  very  much,  and  yearned  to 
have  them  love  him. 

But  when  they  saw  Joseph  coming  (and  they  knew 
him  a  long  way  off  because  of  the  fine  coat  he  wore) 
they  began  to  plot  how  they  could  get  him  out  of  the 
way  for  good.  How  natural  it  is  for  bad  men  (and 
boys)  to  want  to  do  evil  to  those  who  are  harmless 
and  kind  to  them!  You  never  see  a  bully  and  brag- 
gart who  will  pick  out  another  bully  to  abuse;  he  al- 
ways seeks  the  weakest,  most  harmless  object  to  vent 
his  evil  passions  upon.  But  the  good,  kind-hearted, 
brave  boy  will  always  protect  the  weak  and  helpless, 
even  at  the  risk  of  being  abused  and  injured  by  the 
cowardly  bully! 

We  hope  you  will  now  finish  our  story  for  yourself, 
and  read  in  the  Bible  what  became  of  Joseph  after  he 
had  grown  to  be  a  man — how  his  brethren  sold  him 
as  a  slave  to  a  party  of  black  men,  traders,  who  were 
traveling  through  the  country.  They  took  Joseph  to 
Egypt  and  sold  him  to  a  great  captain  or  general  of 
the  Egyptian  army,  and  then  he  got  into  disgrace  and 
trouble  because  he  vvas  honest  and  virtuous,  and  was 
cast  into  prison,  after  rising  to  be  the  head-man  or 
overseer  of  the  captain's  household.  Finally,  he  be- 
came the  chief  ruler  of  all  the  land,  under  the  king, 


10  CHILDREN'S  HOUR. 

and  after  many  long  years  his  brethren  came  and 
bowed  down  to  him,  just  as  he  had  dreamed  their 
sheaves  of  barley  did.  We  hope  you  will  all  pattern 
after  Joseph,  both  as  boys  and  men. 

CQAI^TIN    liUTHBI^. 

This  great  and  good  man  was  also  a  good  boy. 
He  was  born  November  lo,  A.D.  1483.  This  was 
over  four  hundred  years  ago.  It  "w^as  in  a  little  town 
called,  at  that  time,  Eisleben,  or  Eisloben  (spelled 
both  ways),  in  Saxony,  one  of  the  States  of  Germany, 
a  great  country  in  Europe.  Saxon}^  was  the  country 
from  which  a  great  many  people  emigrated  to  Eng- 
land, nearly  fifteen  hundred  years  ago.  The  Saxons 
settled  in  Southern  and  Central  England,  we  are  told, 
and  hence  both  the  English  and  American  people  are 
called  "Anglo-Saxons,"  being  descendants  of  the  An- 
gles, another  German  people,  and  of  these  Saxons, 
both  of  whom  invaded  England  about  the  time  men- 
tioned, and  conquered  the  ancient  Britons,  or  natives 
of  that  country. 

The  name  of  Martin's  father  was  John  Luther,  and 
his  mother's  maiden  name,  before  she  married  John 
Luther,  was  Margaret  Linderman.  John  Luther  w^as 
a  miner,  or  a  man  who  .worked  in  the  mines,  but  he 
valued  an  education,  and  it  is  said  that  he  frequently 
carried  Martin  to  school  in  his  arms  when  this  little 
boy  was  ill,  or  the  weather  bad,  and  the  mountain  vil- 
lage streets  too  muddy.  The  mother  was  a  woman 
of  great  piety,  and  was  very  careful  of  her  son's  home- 
training.  It  proves  again  the  truth  of  God's  word, 
"  Train  up  a  child  in  the  way  he  should  go,  and  when 
he  is  old  he  will  not  depart  from  it." 


MAR  TIN  L  UTHER.  11 

But  we  are  sorry  to  tell  you  that  his  teachers  were 
not  very  kind  men.  The  boys  and  girls  who  go  to 
school  now  do  not  realize  what  brutal  men  were  cm- 
ployed  as  teachers  many  years  ago.  Martin's  teach- 
ers were  very  cruel  to  him,  and  would  often  whip 
him  severely  because  he  could  not  learn  easily,  or 
was  dull  and  inattentive.  This  was  very  wrong.  We 
believe  that  some  little  boys  and  girls  are  not  good  in 
school,  and  the  only  way  to  govern  them  is  to  make 
them  afraid  of  doing  wrong.  But  we  also  feci  sure 
that  a  good,  warm-hearted,  and  loving  teacher  can 
control  most  pupils  w^ithout  using  the  rod.  Above 
all,  we  are  sure  it  is  not  right  to  whip  a  child  because 
it  cannot  learn  as  fast  as  other  children,  or  as  fast  as 
the  teacher  desires. 

When  Martin  was  fourteen  years  of  age  he  left 
home  and  went  away  to  a  city  called  Magdeburg,  and 
there  attended  school  for  one  year.  It  is  said  that  he 
was  sometimes  forced  by  hunger  to  go  forth  and  beg 
food  upon  the  streets  while  in  this  tow^n.  From  there 
he  went  to  Issenach,  or  Eisenach,  as  the  town  was 
then  named.  A  famous  school  was  there,  and  rela- 
tives also  lived  in  the  town.  But  a  man's  relatives 
are  not  always  his  best  friends,  and  Luther's  could 
not  or  would  not  help  him.  So  he  was  as  hungry  as 
ever.  Out  into  the  street  he  was  forced  to  go,  and 
there  he  would  join  his  schoolmates,  and  together 
they  would  sing  before  the  houses,  hoping  to  receive 
a  bit  of  bread.  Sometimes  the  people  were  kind, 
but  often  they  would  scowl  at  the  singers  and  send 
them  away.  What  should  Martin  Luther  do?  He 
was  hungry,  and  the  scowls  and  scolding  brought 
tears.     Hunger  and  tears  are  sorry  companions  for 


12  CHILDREN'S  HOUR. 

a  lad  away  from  home  that  is  going  to  school.  One 
day,  hungr}^,  Martin  had  sung  before  three  doors, 
and  the  people  behind  the  three  doors  had  only  hard 
words  for  him.  He  turned  away  to  go  to  his  home, 
and  was  about  to  cross  the  square  of  St.  George, 
when  he  stopped  before  a  certain  house.  There  he 
stood  in  gloomy  thought.  What  should  he  do?  Must 
he  give  up  his  studies?  Must  he  go  home  to  work 
in  the  mines  of  Mansfeldt?  While  the  hungry  fellow 
was  thinking,  suddenly  the  door  before  him  opened. 
Martin  looked  up.  There  stood  a  woman  beckoning 
to  him.  It  was  Ursula,  the  wife  of  Conrad  Cotta. 
At  the  church  services  she  had  noticed  his  sweet 
voice.  She  had  seen  him  sent  away  in  hunger  when 
asking  for  bread,  and  now  she  came  to  give  him  food. 
Ursula's  husband,  Conrad,  was  pleased  when  he  heard 
of  his  wife's  kindness,  and  liking  the  lad,  he  soon  gave 
him  a  home  in  his  own  house.  Martin  Luther  ceased 
to  be  a  beggar  for  cold  lunches.  But  what  if  that 
door  had  not  opened  when  \\c  stood  discouraged  in 
St.  George's  square?  What  if  he  had  gone  home  to 
be  only  a  miner?  Where  would  have  been  the  Ref- 
ormation leader?  God  has  no  such  "ifs"  in  his  plans. 
A  door  of  deliverance  will  suddenly  open  when  his 
children  are  hard  pressed.     Let  us  have  faith. 

After  struggling  along  several  years  in  this  school, 
he  was  able  in  the  early  part  of  the  year  A.D.  1502 
to  remove  to  the  University  of  Erfurt,  where  he  made 
very  rapid  progress  in  his  studies,  and  took  the  de- 
gree of  Master  of  Arts,  as  some  say,  in  A.D.  1503, 
when  only  nineteen  years  of  age.  But  perhaps  bet- 
ter authority  places  it  in  A.D.  1505,  when  twenty-one 
years  old.     Now,  wc  wonder  how  many  of  our  little 


MAE  TIN  L  UTHER  1 3 

readers  know  vvliat  the  letters  "A.D."  mean!  They 
are  the  abbreviation  of  Latin  words  "Anno  Domini," 
and  mean  the  "  Year  of  our  Lord,"  or  year  following 
the  birth  of  Jesus.  So  Martin  Luther  graduated  from 
the  great  University  fifteen  hundred  and  five  years 
after  Jesus  came  on  earth. 

He  had  a  friend,  with  whom  he  was  walking  in 
the  open  field  one  day,  who  was  killed  by  a  stroke  of 
lightning,  while  he  remained  uninjured.  Although 
he  was  still  at  school,  Martin  had  resolved  to  study 
law  and  become  a  lawyer,  but  this  terrible  event, 
taking  away  his  bosom-  companion  in  an  instant  of 
time,  made  him  resolve  to  devote  himself  to  the  ser- 
vice of  the  Lord  Jesus,  and  he  resolved  to  become  a 
preacher  of  the  gospel,  or  a  "priest,"  as  all  preachers 
were  then  called;  for  you  must  know  that  four  hun- 
dred years  ago  there  was  only  one  Church  known  to 
the  Christian  world,  and  that  was  what  is  now  called 
the  Roman  Catholic  Church. 

We  hope  you  will  some  day  read  about  what  Martin 
did  after  he  became  a  man,  and  left  the  University — 
how  he  first  taught  school,  and  then  became  a 
preacher,  or  "priest,"  and  the  wonderful  things  he 
did  to  make  people  understand  the  Bible,  and  to  help 
them  serve  God  as  their  consciences  dictated.  He 
became  the  leader  of  a  large  body  of  people  who  are 
called  Protestants  to  this  day,  because  they  protested 
against  many  things  which  they  considered  to,  be 
wrong  in  the  Church.  He  found  that  a  great  many 
errors  had  crept  into  the  Church  in  his  day,  and  de- 
sired to  reform  them,  but  was  turned  out  of  the 
Church  for  doing  so.  But  we  hope  you  may  all  have 
a  happier  time  at  school  than  little  Martin  had! 


14  children '  s  ho  ur. 

Daniel  ^bbstbi=^. 

This  great  man  was  also  a  good  bo}-,  and  was  born 
January  i8th,  in  the  year  1782,  in  Salisbury,  New 
Hampshire.  This  is  in  the  northern  part  of  New 
England,  and  it  was  only  a  few  years  before  his  birth 
that  that  portion  of  our  great  country  was  in  constant 
danger  from  French  and  Indian  raids,  being  so  near 
the  borders  of  Canada.  It  was  no  longer  ago  than 
the  year  1752  that  John  Stark,  on  Baker's  River,  a 
few  miles  from  Salisbury,  was  taken  prisoner  and 
carried  to  Canada  and  sold  as  a  slave  by  his  captors. 
Think  of  that,  children!  A  white  man  in  America 
carried  off  and  sold  as  a  slave  to  other  white  men! 
Let  us  thank  God  that  no  such  thing  as  slavery  exists 
any  longer  in  North  America! 

The  father  of  Daniel  was  Captain  Ebenezer  Web- 
ster, and  his  mother  was  named  Abigail  Eastman  be- 
fore she  married  the  captain.  They  were  very  "ener- 
getic and  venturesome,  for  their  home  was  almost,  if 
not  quite,  the  farthest  away  toward  the  north  and 
west  of  any  in  New  Hampshire.  Daniel's  mother 
was  a  noble-hearted.  Christian  woman,  who  was  very 
ambitious  to  have  her  boys  become  great  men.  But 
she  had  the  good  sense  not  to  spoil  her  boys,  as  some 
mothers  nowadays  are  doing,  by  letting  them  have 
their  own  way,  and  flattering  them  with  praises,  and 
tellijig  them  they  are  much  smarter  and  better  than 
other  boys.  She  did  not  let  them  think  they  were  so 
talented  that  they  did  not  need  to  work  as  hard  as 
other  boys,  nor  tell  them  they  would  become  great 
men  without  half  trying. 

Daniel's    education   was    begun    at    home    by   his 


DANIEL  WEBSTER.  15 

mother,  and  he  afterward  said  that  he  could  not  re- 
member the  time  when  he  was  unable  to  read  the 
Bible.  This  good  book  has  been  the  text-book  from 
which  many  another  great  and  noble  man  has  learned 
to  read.  In  these  quiet,  beautiful  hours  of  home  in- 
struction, when  at  his  mother's  knee  he  learned  to 
spell  out  the  words  which  reveal  the  Divine  will  to 
man,  was  cemented  that  tender  and  touching  affec- 
tion which  ever  existed,  to  the  day  of  her  death,  be- 
tween Daniel  Webster  and  his  mother.  O  that  more 
of  our  American  mothers  would  take  time  in  our 
modern  hurly-burly  times  to  instruct  their  babes  from 
this  Fountain  of  Everlasting  Blessings!  It  was  thus- 
that  the  singular  affection  and  unity  of  purpose  be- 
tween father,  mother,  and  children  was  formed  which 
bore  fruit  in  the  honor  and  distinction  bestowed  upon 
their  sons. 

The  common  or  "  district "  school,  free  to  all  who 
would  come,  was  the  only  means  in  his  childhood, 
aside  from  his  mother's  help,  for  gaining  an  educa- 
tion. As  early  as  1636  a  free  school  had  been  estab- 
lished in  Boston,  and  from  that  time  until  the  present 
the  system  of  free  schools  has  been  universal  in  New 
England.  Daniel's  first  teacher  was  named  Thomas 
Chase;  but  he  was  not  a  very  good  teacher.  His 
second  teacher  was  James  Tappan,  who  was  a  good 
one.  In  his  old  age  Mr.  Tappan  wrote  a  letter  to 
Daniel  Webster,  who  had  become  a  very  great, man, 
and  in  return  Mr.  Webster  wrote  a  kind  and  tender 
letter  from  the  city  of  Washington,  and  sent  the  old 
man  a  present  of  fifty  dollars. 

In  later  years  Mr.  Webster  referred  to  his  earty 
home  in  one  of  his  great  speeches,  and  paid  a  loving 


16  CHILDREN'S  HOUR. 

tribute  to  the  bravery  of  his  father,  and  the  tender 
care  and  humble  piety  which  he  ever  displayed  in  his 
home  and  before  his  children.  Captain  Webster  had 
been  a  soldier  throughout  the  long  revolutionary  war, 
and  Daniel's  early  associations  were  amidst  the  halo 
of  glory  surrounding  victorious  soldiers.  He  says 
that  he  often  took  his  children  back  to  the  old  home- 
stead and  recounted  to  them  the  tales  and  described 
the  scenes  of  those  early  days.  He  says:  "I  weep 
to  think  that  none  of  those  who  inhabited  it  are  now 
among  the  living;  and  if  ever  I  am  ashamed  of  it,  or 
if  I  ever  fail  in  affectionate  veneration  for  him  who 
reared  and  defended  it  against  savage  violence  and 
destruction,  cherished  all  the  domestic  virtues  beneath 
its  roof,  and,  through  the  fire  and  blood  of  seven 
years'  revolutionary  war,  shrunk  from  no  danger,  no 
toil,  no  sacrifice,  to  serve  his  country  and  to  raise  his 
children  to  a  condition  better  than  his  own,  may  my 
name  and  the  name  of  my  posterity  be  blotted  for- 
ever from  the  memory  of  mankind!" 

It  was  during  these  early  years  of  his  life  that  an 
incident  occurred  which  foreshadowed  the  future  ca- 
reer of  the  greatest  of  American  orators. 

Daniel  and  his  brother,  Ezekiel,  had  captured  a 
w^oodchuck,  but  after  the  excitement  was  over,  Dan- 
iel's tender  heart  smote  him  for  being  so  cruel  as  to 
harm  one  of  God's  little  creatures.  He  desired  to 
set  it  at  liberty.  But  Ezekiel  contended  that  it  ought 
to  be  put  to  death,  for  it  destroyed  corn.  The  boys 
agreed  to  leave  the  matter  to  their  father,  and  accord- 
ingly carried  the  woodchuck  to  him,  and  each  one 
requested  him  to  do  as  he  desired — the  one  to  set  the 
animal  at  liberty,  the  other  to  kill  it  on  the  spot.     The 


DANIEL  WEBSTER  17 

captain  proposed  to  his  two  boys  that  they  should 
hold  a  "moot-court"  on  the  spot,  and  he  would  de- 
cide the  case  in  favor  of  the  side  which  made  the 
best  argument.  To  this  the  boys  agreed,  and  Ezekiel 
opened  the  argument,  telling  of  all  the  evil  deeds 
with  which  woodchucks  have  been  charged  from 
time  immemorial.  But  when  Daniel  began  to  speak, 
with  tears  in  his  eyes  he  portrayed  the  sufferings  of  a 
captive,  the  torture  which  was  being  inflicted  on  an 
innocent  little  creature,  whom  God  had  created  with 
instincts  which  he  could  not  avoid,  and  which  led  him 
to  eat  corn  and  fruit.  Finally,  he  turned  to  the  cage 
where  the  animal  lay  panting,  and  with  a  trembling 
voice  spoke  of  the  innocent  eyes,  the  harmless  ex- 
pression, the  helpless  condition,  and  timid  nature  of 
his  little  client.  In  the  midst  of  this  beautiful,  almost 
sublime,  but  perfectly  natural  and  unconscious  pero- 
ration, his  father  melted  to  tears,  and  rushing  from 
his  seat  he  clasped  Daniel  in  his  arms,  while  he 
shouted  to  Ezekiel,  "  You  turn  that  woodchuck  loose 
this  minute! " 

Daniel  was  not  as  robust  and  hardy  as  the  rest  of 
his  family.  His  highly-developed  nervous  system 
was  an  overmatch  for  his  delicate  body  in  his  early 
years,  so  that  he  was  not  able  to  bear  the  heavy  out- 
door work  of  the  farm  as  easily  as  his  brothers. 
Hence  he  was  sent  to  school  with  greater  regularity 
than  his  brothers,  and  made  rapid  progress,  consider- 
ing the  numerous  disadvantages  under  which  he 
labored.  One  of  his  elder  brothers  said:  "Dan  was 
sent  to  school  that  he  might  get  to  know  as  much  as 
the  other  boys." 

In  the  month  of  May,  1796,  he  went  to  the  Exeter 
2 


18  CHILDBEN'S  HOUR. 

Academy,  one  of  the  best  schools  in  New  England  at 
that  time,  where  he  remained  for  a  few  months  only, 
but  made  great  progress  with  his  studies.  His  great 
trouble,  however,  strange  as  it  may  seem,  was  to 
make  a  public  declamation.  Time  after  time  was  ap- 
pointed for  him  to  "  recite  a  piece  "  before  the  school, 
and  as  often  he  found  himself  unable  to  summon  the 
courage  to  rise  from  his  seat  and  face  the  audience 
even.  No  one  could  have  believed  it  possible  that  this 
was  to  be  the  future  great  American  orator,  whose 
eloquence  would  charm  all  English-speaking  people. 
In  February,  1797,  Daniel  was  again  sent  to  school, 
this  time  to  the  Rev.  Samuel  Wood,  in  Boscawan,  a 
neighboring  village.  His  tuition,  board,  ^vashing,  and 
lodging  at  this  place  cost  only  one  dollar  per  week; 
but  the  cheapness  of  the  school  was  not  its  only 
merit.  Mr.  .Wood  was  as  wise  and  full  of  good  man- 
agement as  he  was  liberal.  It  is  related  that  soon 
after  Daniel  came  to  his  house  it  was  noticed  that  he 
had  the  bad  habit  of  holding  his  knife  and  fork  erect 
in  his  hands  beside  his  plate,  while  he  chewed  his 
food,  when  at  the  table.  As  he  was  very  sensitive 
and  easily  hurt,  Mr.  Wood  hit  upon  the  following  ex- 
pedient for  correcting  him:  Taking  one  of  the  older 
boys  into  his  confidence,  he  instructed  him  to  imitate 
Daniel  in  holding  up  his  knife  and  fork,  and  he  would 
reprove  him  before  all  the  assembled  school.  He  was 
to  continue  to  hold  up  his  knife  and  fork  from  time  to 
time,  as  long  as  Daniel  did  the  same,  and  each  time 
the  master  would  reprove  him.  This  remedy  proved 
entirely  successful,  and  only  on  rare  occasions  was 
Daniel  known  ,to  forget  the  proper  position  for  his 
knife  and  fork  after  that. 


DANIEL  WEBSTER.  10 

It  was  while  his  father  was  carrying  him  to  Bosca- 
wan  in  the  old  farm-slcigh  that  he  told  Daniel  of  his 
purpose  to  help  him  take  a  regular  college  course  of 
education.  They  were  passing  through  the  dense 
timber,  with  the  heavy  snow  covering  the  ground, 
and  making  almost  every  thing  a  dead  white,  and' 
Daniel  Webster  said  afterwards  that  the  emotions 
which  filled  his  heart  at  that  time  were  such  that  no 
words  could  utter.  "A  warm  glow  ran  all  over  me, 
and  I  laid  my  head  on  my  father's  shoulder  and 
wept."  His  father  was  poor,  with  a  large  family, 
and  Daniel  knew  what  self-denial  would  be  endured 
for  his  sake  as  few  others  could  know. 

He  completed  his  preparation  for  college  with  Mr. 
Wood,  and  when  fifteen  years  of  .age  entered  college. 
He  graduated  from  Dartmouth  College  in  the  year 
1 80 1,  at  the  age  of  nineteen  years.  He  taught 
school  during  each  winter  vacation,  to  help  him 
through  another  year  at  college.  Soon  after  grad- 
uating he  went  to  Fryeburg,  State  of  Maine,  where 
he  again  taught  school,  receiving  the  sum  of  one 
dollar  per  day  I  What  college  graduade  of  this  day 
would  be  willing  to  do  the  same?  He  paid  his  board 
by  working  on  Saturday  and  after  school  hours  at 
copying  deeds  in  the  county  register's  office.  After 
the  close  of  this  school  he  studied  law,  and  soon  after 
removed  to  the  city  of  Boston. 

One  of  the  most  marked  and  distinguishing  charac- 
teristics of  Daniel  Webster  was  his  great  reverence 
for  the  Bible,  and  for  Christ,  the  Saviour  of  mankind. 
But,  alas!  owing  to  the  custom  of  his  times,  his  brill- 
iant genius,  his  great  and  noble  qualities,  and  his  un- 
wavering allegiance  to  the  cause  of  right,  were  sadly 


20  CHILDREN  S  HOUR. 

marred  by  the  habit  of  drinking  alcoholic  liquors! 
This  need  not  be  the  case  with  any  of  our  little  read- 
ers in  this  day  and  age,  for  it  is  not  now  good  usage 
to  drink  liquor;  and  while  we  wish  you  to  imitate  all 
his  virtues,  I  beg  of  you  to  be  warned  in  time,  and 
avoid  his  vices,  which  marred  and  hindered  his  great- 
est achievements  later  in  life. 

GBN.    I^OBEP^JF   e.    IlBE. 

A  wonderful  resemblance  exists  between  the  char- 
acter oi  this  good  man  and  that  of  George  Washing- 
ton, the  "  father  of  his  country."  Reared  in  the  same 
section  of  the  Union,  though  widely  separated  in  time, 
they  each  seem  to  have  fallen  under  similar  and 
equally  beneficial  influence,  which  molded  and 
rounded  those  characters  Avhich  in  turn  have  served 
to  raise  thousands  to  higher  standards  and  excellence 
of  living. 

Robert  Edward  Lee  first  saw  the  light  at  Stratford,, 
Westmoreland  County,  Virginia,  on  the  19th  of  Janu- 
ary, 1807,  in  the  same  room  in  which  two  of  the 
signers  of  the  Declaration  of  Independence  were 
born — Richard  Henry  Lee  and  Francis  Lightfoot 
Lee. 

"  When  he  was  but  four  years  of  age,  his  father  re- 
moved to  Alexandria,  the  better  to  educate  his  chil- 
dren. There  are  'many  persons  yet  living  in  that  old 
town  who  remember  him  at  that  early  age.  From 
these  sources  we  are  assured  that  his  childhood  was 
as  remarkable  as  his  manhood  for  the  modesty  and 
thoughtfulness  of  his  character,  and  for  the  perform- 
ance of  every  duty  which  devolved  upon  him." 

Thus  we  are  assured,  my  dear  children,  of  the  early 


GEN.  ROBERT  E.  LEE.  21 

• 

traits  of  one  who,  in  his  later  years,  became  a  model 
soldier,  noted  for  his  great  bravery,  his  stern  char- 
acter, and  unswerving  determination.  He  was  obe- 
<lient,  gentle,  kind  to  the.  servants,  attentive  to  his 
elders,  prompt  to  admit  a  mistake,  eager  to  rectify  a 
wrong  or  remedy  an  evil.  He  said  in  his  later  years 
that  he  never,  to  the  best  of  his  belief,  uttered  an  oath 
or  used  a  vulgar  word. 

We  cannot  do  better  than  quote  from  an  excellent' 
sketch  of  his  Life  the  following  paragraphs,  which  tell 
in  better  words  than  we  could  use  the  story  of  this 
good  boy: 

When  he  was  eleven  years  of  age,  his  father  died. 

From  one  of  his  family,  who  knew  him  best,  we  are  told, 
that  from  his  excellent  mother  he  learned,  at  this  early  age,  to 
*' practice  self-denial  and  self-control,  as  well  as  the  strictest 
economy  in  all  financial  concerns" — virtues  which  he  retained 
throughout  his  life. 

This  good  mother  was  a  great  invalid;  one  of  his  sisters  was 
■delicate,  and  many  years  absent  in  Philadelphia  under  the  care 
■of  physicians. 

At  the  hour  when  the  other  school-boys  went  to  play,  he 
"hurried  home  to  order  his  mother's  drive,  and  would  then  be 
seen  carrying  her  in  his  arms  to  the  carriage,  and  arranging 
her  cushions  with  the  gentleness  of  an  experienced  nurse. 
One  of  his  relatives  still  lives  who  was  often  the  companion  of 
these  drives.  She  tells  us  of  the  exertions  he  would  make  on 
these  occasions  to  entertain  and  amuse  his  mother;  assuring 
her,  with  the  gravity  of  an  old  man,  that,  unless  she  was  cheer- 
ful, the  drive  would  not  benefit  her.  When  she  complained  of 
cold  or  "  draughts,"  he  would  pull  from  his  pocket  a  great  jack- 
knife  and  newspaper,  and  make  her  laugh  with  his  efforts 
to  improvise  curtains,  and  shut  out  the  intrusive  wind  which 
■whistled  through  the  crevices  of  the  old  family-coach. 

General  Lee  used  to  say  that  he  was  very  fond  of  hunting 
w^hen  a  boy — that  he  sometimes  followed  the  hounds  on  foot 
all  day.     This  will  account  for  his  well-developed  form,  and  for 


22  .  CHILDREN'S  HOUR. 

that  wonderful  strength  which  was  never  known  to  fail  him  in 
all  the  fatigues  and  privations  of  his  after-life. 

His  first  teacher  was  an  Irish  gentleman,  Mr.  William  B. 
Leary,  who  came  to  Lexington  to  visit  him  after  the  termi- 
nation of  the  w^ar;  and  when  General  Lee  was  returning  from 
Geoi'gia  about  two  years  ago,  this  gentleman  came  a  great  dis- 
tance to  meet  him,  and  they  had  another  most  pleasant  meeting. 

One  of  his  friends  gives  a  remarkable  incident  to  show  the 
influence  which,  even  at  this  early  day,  his  simple  dignity  and 
.high  sense  of  right  exercised  upon  all  who  came  in  contact 
with  him,  the  old  as  well  as  the  young.  Being  invited,  during 
a  vacation,  to  visit  a  friend  of  his  family  who  lived  in  the  gay, 
rollicking  style  then  but  too  common  in  old  Virginia,  he  found 
in  his  host  one  of  the  grand  old  gentlemen  of  that  day,  with 
every  fascination  of  mind  and  manner,  who,  though  not  of  dis- 
sipated habits,  led  a  life  which  the  sterner  sense  of  the  boy 
could  not  approve.  The  old  man  shrunk  before  the  unspoken 
rebuke  of  the  youthful  hei-o.  Coming  to  his  bedside  the  night 
before  his  departure,  he  lamented  the  idle  and  useless  life  into^ 
which  he  had  fallen,  excusing  himself  upon  the  score  of  loneli- 
ness, and  the  sorrow  which  weighed  upon  him  in  the  loss  of 
those  most  dear.  In  the  most  impressive  manner  he  besought 
his  young  guest  to  be  warned  by  his  example;  prayed  him 
to  cherish  the  good  habits  he  had  already  acquired,  and  prom- 
ised to  listen  to  his  entreaties  that  he  would  change  his  own 
life,  and  thereby  secure  more  entirely  his  respect  and  affection. 

When  it  was  decided  that  he  should  go  to  West  Point,  Rob- 
ert was  sent  to  Mr.  Benjamin  Hallowell,  a  fainous  teacher  of 
mathematics  in  Alexandria,  whose  estimation  of  his  pupil  may 
be  seen  in  the  following  extract  from  one  of  his  letters: 

"Robert  E.  Lee  entered  my  school  in  Alexandria,  Virginia,, 
in  the  winter  of  1824-5,  to  study  mathematics  preparatory  tO' 
his  going  to  West  Point.  He  was  a  most  exemplary  student 
in  every  respect.  He  was  never  behind  time  at  his  studies;, 
never  failed  in  a  single  recitation;  was  perfectly  observant  of 
the  rules  and  regulations  of  the  Institution;  was  gentlemanly,, 
unobtrusive,  and  respectful  in  all  his  deportment  to  teachers  and 
his  fellow-students.  His  specialty  was  finishing  up.  He  im- 
parted a  finish  and  a  neatness,  as  he  proceeded,  to  every  thing- 
he  undertook.     One  of  the  branches  of  mathematics  he  studied 


QEN.  ROBERT  E.  LEE.  23 

with  me  was  Conic  Sections,  in  which  some  of  tlie  diagrams 
arc  very  complicated.  He  drew  the  diagrams  on  a  slate;  and 
although  he  well  knew  that  the  one  he  was  drawing  would 
have  to  be  removed  to  make  room  for  another,  he  drew  each 
one  with  as  much  accuracy  and  finish,  lettering  and  all,  as  if  it 
was  to  be  engraved  and  printed.  He  carried  the  same  traits 
he  exhibited  at  my  school  with  him  to  West  Point,  where  I 
have  been  told  he  never  received  a  mark  of  demerit,  and  grad- 
uated head  of  his  class. 

"A  feeling  of  mutual  kindness  and  respect  continued  be- 
tween us  to  the  close  of  his  life. 

•'  He  was  a  great  friend  and  advocate  of  education. 

"  It  was  a  matter  of  great  regret  to  me  that  he  thought  it 
right  to  take  the  course  he  did  in  our  recent  national  diflScul- 
ties;  but  I  never  entertained  the  least  doubt  that  he  was  influ- 
enced by  what  he  believed  to  be  his  duty,  and  what  was 
entirely  in  harmony  with  the  requirements  of  a  gentleman  and 
the  dictates  of  honor." 

In  1825,  when  he  was  eighteen  years  of  age,  he  entered  the 
Military  Academy  at  West  Point,  where  he  remained  four 
years,  graduating  in  1829. 

From  the  first,  he  rose  to  the  head  of  his  class,  and  retained 
this  "standing"  until  he  left  the  Academy.  During  his  whole 
course  he  never  received  a  "  demerit  mark  "  for  any  breach  or 
neglect  of  duty. 

By  his  comrades  he  was  held  in  the  highest  esteem,  and  was 
noted  for  his  studious  habits  and  exemplary  conduct.  He 
never  drank  intoxicating  liquor,  never  used  tobacco,  or  in- 
dulged in  any  of  the  petty  vices  to  which  youth  is  apt.  In- 
deed, one  of  those  who  knew  him  intimately  from  his  boyhood 
to  his  grave,  declared  that  he  never  knew  him  "to  utter  an 
immoral  or  profane  word,  and  never  saw  him  taste  a  drop  of 
intoxiciting  drink." 

Thus  we  have  told  you  of  several  boys  who  became 
noted  as  great  men,  and  whose  boyhood  was  also 
noted  for  their  nobility  of  character,  their  earnest 
desire  to  do  right,  and  the  purity  of  their  hearts.     Are 


24  CHILDREN '  S  HO  UR. 

you  ambitious,  my  dear  young  reader,  to  become 
known  and  loved,  honored  and  praised,  by  your  fel- 
low-men? Then  begin  now,  early  in  life,  to  be  good 
boys  and  good  girls.  We  could  tell  of  many  girls,  also, 
who  were  good  girls,  and  became  great  w^omen;  but 
we  must  not  take  more  room.  We  hope  you  will  all 
find  great  pleasure  in  the  "  Children's  Hour,"  and  be 
made  better  men  and  women  for  reading  it. 


^E  fli^B  Seven. 


BY   WILLIAM   WORDSWORTH, 


I  met  a  little  cottage  girl; 

She  was  eight  years  old,  she  said; 
Her  hair  was  thick,  with  many  a  curl, 

That  clustered  round  her  head. 

She  had  a  rustic,  woodland  air. 

And  she  was  wildly  clad; 
Her  eyes  were  fair,  and  very  fair: 

Her  beauty  made  me  glad. 

"  Sisters  and  brothers,  little  maid, 

How  many  may  you  be?" 
"How  many?  seven  in  all,"  she  said, 

And  wondering,  looked  at  me. 

"And  where  are  they?  I  pray  you  tell." 
She  answered,  "Seven  are  we; 
And  two  of  us  in  Conway  dwell. 
And  two  are  gone  to  sea. 

"Two  of  us  in  the  church-yard  lie. 
My  sister  and  my  brother; 
And  in  the  church-yard  cottage  I 
Dwell  near  them  with  my  riiother." 


WE  ARE  SEVEN.  25 

"You  say  that  two  at  Conway  dwell, 
And  two  arc  gone  to  sea, 
Yet  we  are  seven.     I  pray  you  tell, 
Sweet  maid,  how  this  may  be!" 

Then  did  the  little  maid  reply, 

"Seven  boys  and  girls  are  we; 
Two  of  us  in  the  church-yard  He, 

Beneath  the  church-yard  tree." 

"You  run  about,  my  little  maid; 
Your  Hmbs,  they  are  alive; 
If  two  are  in  the  church-yard  laid, 
Then  ye  are  only  five." 

"  Their  graves  are  green,  they  may  be  seen," 

The  little  maid  replied, 
"Twelve  steps  or  more  from  mother's  door, 

And  they  are  side  by  side. 

"My  stockings  tnere  I  often  knit, 
My  'kerchief  there  I  hem^ 
And  there  upon  the  ground  I  sit; 
I  sit  and  sing  to  them. 

"And  often  after  sunset,  sir, 
When  it  is  light  and  fair, 
I  take  my  little  porringer, 
And  eat  my  supper  there. 

"The  first  that  died  was  little  Jane; 
In  bed  she  moaning  lay, 
Till  God  released  her  from  her  pain. 
And  then  she  went  away. 

"  So  in  the  church-yard  she  was  laid, 
And  all  the  summer  dry 
Together  round  her  grave  we  played. 
My  brother  John  and  I. 

"And  when  the  ground  was  white  with  snow, 
And  I  could  run  and  slide, 
My  brother  John  was  forced  to  go. 
And  he  lies  by  her  side." 


26  CHILDREN'S  HOUR. 

"  How  many  are  you  then,"  said  I, 
"If  they  two  are  in  heaven?" 
The  little  maiden  did  reply, 
"O  master!  we  are  seven." 

"But  they  are  dead;  those  two  are  dead! 

Their  spirits  are  in  heaven!" 
'Twas  throwing  words  away;  for  still 
*  The  little  maid  w^ould  have  her  will. 

And  said,  "Nay,  we  are  seven." 

Baby  Sleeps. 

At  last  the  baby's  fast  asleep, 

The  little  eyelids  close; 
Pray  do  not  talk  above  your  breath, 

And  walk  upon  tiptoes. 

I've  rocked  the  little  one  an  hour, 

And  sung  to  baby  May; 
And  now  at  last  she's  gone  to  sleep. 

So  all  must  keep  away. 

©HE  ^AY   TO   BE   r^APPY. 

Every  child  must  observe  how  much  more  happy  and  be- 
loved some  children  are  than  others.  There  are  some  children 
you  always  love  to  be  with.  They  are  happy  themselves,  and 
they  make  you  happy. 

There  are  others  whose  society  you  always  avoid.  The 
very  expression  of  their  countenances  produces  unpleasant 
feelings.     They  seem  to  have  no  friends. 

No  person  can  be  happy  without  friends.  The  heart  is 
formed  for  love,  and  cannot  be  happy  without  the  opportunity 
of  giving  and  receiving  affection. 

"  'Tis  not  in  titles  nor  in  rank, 
'Tis  not  in  wealth  like  London  bank. 

To  make  us  truly  blest. 
If  happiness  have  not  her  seat 

And  center  in  the  breast, 
We  may  be  wise,  or  rich,  or  great, 

But  never  can  be  blest." 


THE  WA  Y  TO  BE  HAPPY.  27 

But  you  cannot  receive  affection  unless  you  will  also  give  it. 
You  cannot  find  others  to  love  you  unless  you  will  also  love 
them.  Love  is  only  to  be  obtained  by  giving  love  in  return. 
Hence  the  importance  of  cultivating  a  cheerful  and  obliging 
disposition.     You  cannot  be  happy  without  it. 

I  have  sometimes  heard  a  girl  say,  "I  know  that  I  am  very 
unpopular  at  school."  Now,  this  is  a  plain  confession  that  she 
is  very  disobliging  and  unamiablc  in  her  disposition. 

If  your  companions  do  not  love  you,  it  is  your  own  fault. 
They  cannot  help  loving  you  if  you  will  be  kind  and  friendly. 
If  you  are  not  loved,  it  is  a  good  evidence  that  you  do  not  de- 
serve to  be  loved.  It  is  true,  that  a  sense  of  duty  may,  at 
times,  render  it  necessary  for  you  to  do  that  which  will  be  dis- 
pleasing to  your  companions.  But  if  it  is  seen  that  you  have  a 
noble  spirit,  that  you  are  above  selfishness,  that  you  are  willing 
to  make  sacrifices  of  your  own  personal  convenience,  to  pro- 
mote the  happiness  of  your  associates,  you  will  never  be  in 
want  of  friends. 

You  must  not  regard  it  as  your  misfortune  that  others  do  not 
love  you,  but  your  fault.  It  is  not  beauty,  it  is  not  wealth,  that 
will  give  you  friends.  Your  heart  must  glow  with  kindness,  if 
you  would  attract  to  yourself  the  esteem  and  affection  of  those 
by  whom  you  are  surrounded. 

You  are  little  aware  how  much  the  happiness  of  your  whole 
life  depends  upon  the  cultivation  of  an  affectionate  and  oblig- 
ing disposition.  If  you  will  adopt  the  resolution  that  you  will 
confer  favors  whenever  you  have  an  opportunity,  you  will  cer- 
tainly be  surrounded  by  ardent  friends.  Begin  upon  this  prin- 
ciple in  childhood,  and  act  upon  it  through  life,  and  you  will 
make  yourself  happy  and  promote  the  happiness  of  all  within 
your  influence. 

You  go  to  school  on  a  cold  winter  morning.  A  bright  fire 
is  blazing  upon  the  hearth,  surrounded  with  boys  struggling  to 
get  near  it  to  warm  themselves.  After  you  get  slightly  warmed, 
another  schoolmate  comes  in  suft'ering  with  cold.  "Here, 
James!"  you  pleasantly  call  out  to  him,  "I  am  almost  warm; 
you  may  have  my  place." 

As  you  slip  aside  to  allow  him  to  take  your  place  at  the  fire, 

will  he  not  feel  that  you  are  kind?     The  worst  dispositioned 

•boy  in  the  world  cannot  help  admiring  such  generosity.     And 


28  CHILDBENS  hove: 

even  though  he  be  so  ungrateful  as  to  be  unwilling  to  return 
the  favor,  you  may  depend  upon  it  that  he  w^ill  be  your  friend 
as  far  as  he  is  capable  of  friendship.  If  you  w^ill  habitually  act 
upon  this  principle,  you  will  never  want  for  friends. 

Suppose,  some  day,  you  were  out  with  your  companions 
playing  ball.  After  you  had  been  playing  for  some  time,  an- 
other boy  comes  along.  He  cannot  be  chosen  upon  either  side, 
for  there  is  no  one  to  match  him.  "  Henry,"  you  say,  "you 
may  take  my  place  a  little  while,  and  I  will  rest." 

You  throw  yourself  down  upon  the  grass,  while  Henry, 
fresh  and  vigorous,  takes  your  bat  and  engages  in  the  game. 
He  knows  that  you  gave  up  to  accommodate  him;  and  how 
can  he  help  liking  you  for  it?  The  fact  is,  that  neither  man 
nor  child  can  cultivate  such  a  spirit  of  generosity  and  kindness 
w^ithout  attracting  affection  and  esteem. 

.  Look  and  sec  which  of  your  companions  have  the  most 
friends,  and  you  will  find  that  they  are  those  who  have  this 
noble  spirit — who  are  willing  to  deny  themselves  that  they  may 
make  their  associates  happy.  This  is  not  peculiar  to  childhood. 
It  is  the  same  in  all  periods  of  life.  There  is  but  one  way  to 
make  friends — and  that  is,  by  being  friendly  to  others. 

Perhaps  some  child  who  reads  this  feels  conscious  of  being 
disliked,  and  yet  desires  to  have  the  affection  of  his  com- 
panions. You  ask  me  what  you  shall  do.  I  will  tell  you.  I 
will  give  you  an  infallible  rule.  Do  all  in  your  power  to  make 
others  happy.  Be  willing  to  make  sacrifices  of  your  own  con- 
venience, that  you  may  promote  the  happiness  of  others. 

This  is  the  way  to  make  frien4s,  and  the  only  way.  When 
you  are  playing  with  your  brothers  and  sisters  at  home,  be 
always  ready  to  give  them  more  than  their  share  of  privileges. 
Manifest  an  obliging  disposition,  and  they  cannot  but  regard 
you  with  affection.  In  all  your  intercourse  with  others,  at 
home  or  abroad,  let  these  feelings  influence  you,  and  you  will 
receive  a  rich  reward. 

A  little  four-year-old  upset  in  a  boat  was  not  alarmed.  A 
surprised  sailor  asked  her  afterward  why  was  this.  She  said, 
*' I  finked  of  Peter." 

A  little  child  was  once  asked  how  she  became  a  Christian, 
and  answered,  "  Why,  I  just  saw  the  door  open,  and  I  went  in.'\ 


MOLLY'S  PENNIES.  29 

(Dolly's  Pennies. 

The  young  assistant  editor  of  one  of  the  most  important 
magazines  in  New  York  is  also  the  teacRer  of  a  class  of  little 
ragamufHns  in  a  mission  Sunday-school.  These  children  are 
allowed  to  bring  a  penny  each  on  Sunday  for  the  help  of  other 
children  still  worse  off  than  themselves.  Mind,  they  are  allowed, 
as  a  privilege — not  required,  or  even  expected.  It  is  set  before 
them  as  an  honor  to  help  in  the  good  work;  and  many  of  them 
bring  their  penny  regularly — others  when  it  is  convenient — 
others  seldom;  but  there  is  scarcely  one  so  poor  as  not  some- 
times to  produce  it. 

Afnong  the  class  is  one  little  mite,  perhaps  six  years  old,  who 
always  comes  well-patched  and  clean,  yet  whose  whole  aspect 
shows  her  to  be  one  of  the  very  poorest  of  those  poor.  She 
is  not  a  pretty  child.  Life  has  been  hard  on  her,  and  pinched 
her  little  face,  and  made  sharp  angles  where  there  ought  to  be 
soft  outlines  and  dimples;  but  she  has  bright,  eager  eyes,  and 
she  never  loses  a  word  the  teacher  says  to  her,  and  he  feels  that 
she  is  one  of  his  most  hopeful  scholars. 

One  Sunday  of  winter,  when  the  times  were  very  hard,  he 
heard  a  small  voice  at  his  elbow — 

"Teacher!" 

"Well,  Molly?" 

"Please,  sir,  here's  four  pennies,  for  this  Sunday  and  three 
more  Sundays." 

"Why  do  you  bring  them  all  at  once,  Molly?"  the  teacher 
asked,  with  curious  interest. 

"  Because,  please,  father  is  out  of  work,  and  he  said  there 
might  not  he  any  pennies  if  I  did  not  take  them  now,"  and  the 
thin  little  brown  hand  slipped  into  his  a  brown  paper  parcel, 
in  which  the  four  pennies  were  carefully  wrapped. 

So  the  good  work  was  not  to  suffer,  however  hungry  the 
child's  mouth  might  be  before  the  month  was  over.  The 
teacher  wondered  how  many  of  the  rich  men,  playing  with 
fortunes  as  a  child  plays  with  toys,  would  remember,  before 
making  some  desperate  throw,  to  provide  for  the  charities  they 
were  wont  to  help,  lest  there  should  not  be  any  money  in  the 
weeks  to  come. 

Children,  never  say,  "  I  can't."     Always  say,  "  I'll  try." 


30  CHILDREN'S  HOUR. 

fl  Soughing  0)BMoi^iAii. 

The  superintendent  of  a  street  railway  leading  out  of  New 
York  into  the  country  tells  how  a  father  and  mother  erected  a 
memorial  to  their  dead  boy. 

Sitting  alone  in  his  office  one  day,  a  strange  gentleman  en- 
tered, who  proved  to  be  an  officer  in  the  army.  He  carried  a 
little  box  in  his  hand,  and  after  some  hesitation  said: 

"I  have  a  favor  to  ask  of  you.  I  had  a  little  boy,  and  I've 
lost  him.  He  was  all  the  world  to  me.  When  he  was  alive 
iny  wife  used  to  search  my  pockets  every  night,  and  whatever 
loose  change  she  found  she  would  put  it  away  for  the  baby. 
Well,  he's  gone.  Here  is  the  box.  We  talked  the  matter  over, 
and  came  to  the  conclusion  that  we  could  do  no  better  than  to 
bring  the  money  to  you  to  pay  the  fares  of  poor  sick  children 
out  of  town  during  the  summer.  It  would  please  him  to  know 
that  he  is  helping  to  save  the  lives  of  other  poor  children.  As 
soon  as  the  box  is  empty  we  will  fill  it.  While  we  live  we  will 
keep  up  the  bank." 

The  box  has  been  twice  emptied  and  filled,  and  hundreds  of 
sick  or  dying  children  have  owed  to  this  dead  baby  their  one 
breath  of  fresh  air  this  summer. 

©HE   gUBEN   AND   THE   SlGI^  ^HILD. 

Three  or  four  yeai's  ago  Her  Majesty  the  Qiieen  came  to  open 
a  new  wing  of  the  London  Hospital.  For  some  days  previ- 
ously nothing  else  was  talked  about  in  ihe  papers  and  on  the 
streets  but  Her  Majesty's  intended  visit.  There  was  a  little 
orphan  child  lying  in  one  of  the  wards  of  the  hospital,'  and 
she,  too,  had  heard  that  the  queen  was  coming.  She  said  to 
the  nurse:  "Do  you  think  the  queen  will  come  and  see  me?" 

"I  am  afraid  not,  darling,"  said  the  nurse,  "she  will  have  so 
many  people  to  see  and  so  much  to  do." 

"But  I  should  so  much  like  to  see  her,"  pleaded  the  little 
patient;  "I  should  be  so  much  better  if  I  saw  her;"  and  day 
after  day  the  poor  child  was  expressing  her  anxiety  to  see  Her 
Majesty. 

When  the  queen  came  the  governor  told  Her  Majesty;  and 
the  queen,  with  her  large,  kindly  heart  and  motherly  instincts, 
said:  "I  should  like  to  see  that  dear  child;  would  you  just  take 


GOOD  MANNERS.  31 

me  to  the  ward?"  and  Qiieen  Victoria  was  conducted  to  the 
bedside  of  the  orphan  girl. 

The  little  thing  thought  she  was  one  of  the  women  come  in 
the  crowd  to  see  the  opening  of  the  hospital,  and  said  :  "  Do 
you  think  the  queen  will  come  and  see  me?  I  should  like  to 
see  the  queen." 

"  I  am  the  queen,"  said  her  visitor.  "  I  heard  that  you  were 
anxious  to  see  me.  I  hope  you  will  be  so  much  better  now;" 
and  she  stroked  down  her  fevered,  wasted,  pale  brow,  gave 
some  money  to  the  nurse  to  get  some  nice  things  for  the  child, 
and  went  her  way. 

The  child  said:  "I  am 'ever  so  much  better  now  that  I  have 
seen  the  queen." 

A  greater  than  the  queen  is  always  near  to  praying  souls, 
even  the  King  of  kings;  and  we  would  all  be  much  better  if 
by  faith  we  realized  his  presence. 

Selfishness. 

While  shaking  hands  with  an  old  man  the  other  day  I  noticed 
that  some  of  his  fingers  were  quite  bent  inward,  and  he  had 
not  the  power  of  straightening  them.  Alluding  to  this  fact,  he 
said,  "  In  these  crooked  fingers  there  is  a  good  text  for  a  talk 
to  children." 

"  Let  us  have  it,  if  you  please,"  we  said. 

"  For  over  fifty  years  I  used  to  drive  a  stage,  and  these  bent 
fingers  show  the  effect  of  holding  the  reins  for  so  many  years." 

The  old  man's  crooked  fingers,  dear  children,  are  but  an  em- 
blem of  the  crooked  tempers,  words,  and  actions  of  men  and 
women,  actuated  by  selfish  motives  only. 

Good  CQannei^s. 

There  is  nothing  that  we  admire  more  in  a  child  than  its  good 
manners.  A  child  may  be  poor,  and  wear  plain  and  patched 
clothes,  yet,  if  he  behaves  well,  all  will  be  pleased  with  him. 

Now,  dear  children,  I  do  not  mean  that  you  dare  not  laugh, 
and  play,  and  run,  and  hop,  and  jump,  etc.;  but  what  I  mean 
by  good  manners  is,  to  show  kindness  to  your  playmates,  loving 
obedience  to  your  parents  and  teachers,  and  a  respectful  con- 
duct to  every  one  else. 

Your  clothes  may  be  very  beautiful  and  fine,  and  make  you 


32  CHILDREN'S  HOUR. 

look  very  handsome,  yet  they  are  not  enough  to  make  tip  for 
your  ill-manners  if  you  possess  any. 

We  may  grow  old,  our  faces  may  bear  lines  of  care,  our  eyes 
become  dim,  our  cheeks  get  pale,  but  our  manners  will  never 
change.  Men  and  women  are  only  grown-up  children,  with 
their  manners  more  fixed. 

Hence,  would  you  wish  to  be  honorable  and  respectable  men 
and  women,  you  must  begin  when  young  to  cultivate  good 
manners. 

^osip  CQannbi^s. 

Only  the  other  day  I  was  reading  about  what  a  little  boy 
called  "post  manners."  He  said  children  that  had  post  man- 
ners never  answered  when  they  were  spoken  to,  but  stood  still 
and  dumb,  just  like  a  post,  that  had  no  tongue  to  talk  with. 
Now  I  think  post  manners  is  a  good  name  for  this  way  of  act- 
ing, and  I  must  also  say  that  I  do  not  admire  post  manners.  I 
hope  none  of  my  little  friends  will  ever  behave  in  this  way. 
When  you  are  spoken  to  pleasantly,  answer,  and  don't  stand 
like  a  post.  If  it  is  a  stranger  that  is  speaking,  perhaps  you 
will  feel  a  little  bashful,  but  you  will  find  you  do  not  feel  a  bit 
better  for  saying  nothing,  and  people  will  like  you  much  more 
if  you  answer  politely  than  if  you  have  "  post  manners."  It  is 
really  very  rude  not  to  speak  when  you  are  spoken  to.  What 
would  you  think  of  your  mamma  if  she  were  to  put  her  finger 
in  her  mouth  and  hang  her  head  whenever  any  thing  was  said 
to  her? 

fl  Bi^AYB  Boy. 

Just  listen,  boys,  and  let  me  tell  you  what  one  brave  and  true 
little  boy  did.  There  were  four  gentlemen  who  had  an  office 
together,  and  this  boy  ran  errands  for  them.  One  day  these 
gentlemen  were  teasing  him  about  being  so  little,  and  said, 
"  You'll  never  amount  to  much,  you're  too  little." 

"  Well,"  said  he,  "  if  I  am  so  little,  I  can  do  something  which 
none  of  you  four  men  can  do." 

They  thought  it  funny,  and  asked  him  what  it  was.  He 
didn't  like  to  tell  much,  but  they  begged  him  to  tell  what  in 
the  world  he  could  do  that  they,  big  men,  could  not.  Four  big 
men  felt  ashamed  when  the  little  boy  said,  "  I  can  keep  from 
swearing." 


'  "THE  OORNUOOPl/," 


HARRY  AND  HIS  DOG.  33 

F>Ai^i^Y  AND  fjis  Dog. 


BY  MARY  RUSSELL  MITFORD. 


"Beg,  Frisk,  beg!"  said  little  Harry,  as  he  sat  on  an  in- 
vei^ed  basket,  at  his  grandmother's  door,  eating  with  great 
satisfaction  a  porringer  of  bread  and  milk.  His  little  sister 
Annie,  who  had  already  dispatched  her  breakfast,  sat  on  the 
ground  opposite  to  him,  now  twisting  her  flowers  into  gar- 
lands, and  now  throwing  them  away, 

"Beg,  Frisk,  beg!"  repeated  Harry,  holding  a  bit  of  bread 
just  out  of  the  dog's  reach;  and  the  obedient  Frisk  squatted 
himself  on  his  hind  legs,  and  held  up  his  fore  paws,  waiting 
for  Master  Harry  to  give  him  the  tempting  morsel. 

The  little  boy  and  the  little  dog  were  great  friends.  Frisk 
loved  him  dearly,  much  better  than  he  did  any  one  else;  per- 
haps because  he  recollected  that  Harry  was  his  earliest  and 
firmest  friend  during  a  time  of  great  trouble. 

Poor  Frisk  had  come  as  a  stray  dog  to  Milton,  the  place 
where  Harry  lived.  If  he  could  have  told  his  own  story,  it 
would  probably  have  been  a  very  pitiful  one,  of  kicks  and 
cuffs,  of  hunger  and  foul  weather. 

Certain  it  is,  he  made  his  appearance  at  the  very  door  where 
Harry  was  now  sitting,  in  miserable  plight,  wet,  dirty,  and 
half-starved;  and  that  there  he  met  Harry,  who  took  a  fancy 
to  him,  and  Harry's  grandmother,  who  drove  him  off  with  a 
broom. 

Harry  at  length  obtained  permission  for  the  little  dog  to  re- 
main as  a  sort  of  out-door  pensioner,  and  fed  him  with  stray 
bones  and  cold  potatoes,  and  such  things  as  he  could  get  for 
him.  He  also  provided  him  with  a  little  basket  to  sleep  in,  the 
very  same  which,  turned  up  afterward,  served  Harry  for  a  seat. 

After  a  while,  having  proved  his  good  qualities  by  barking 
away  a  set  of  pilferers,  who  were  making  an  attack  on  the 
great  pear-tree,  he  was  admitted  into  the  house,  and  became 
one  of  its  most  vigilant  and  valued  inmates.  He  could  fetch 
or  carry  either  by  land  or  water;  would  pick  up  a  thimble  or  a 
ball  of  cotton,  if  little  Annie  should  happen  to  drop  them;  or 
take  Harry's  dinner  to  school  for  him  with  perfect  honesty, 
3 


34  CHILDREN'S  HOUR. 

"Beg,  Frisk,  beg!"  said  Harry,  and  gave  him,  after  long 
waiting,  the  expected  morsel.  Frisk  was  satisfied,  but  Harry 
was  not.  The  little  boy,  though  a  good-humored  fellow  in  the 
main,  had  turns  of  naughtiness,  which  were  apt  to  last  him  all 
day,  and  this  promised  to  prove  one  of  his  worst.  It  was  a 
holiday,  and  in  the  afternoon  his  cousins,  Jane  and  William, 
were  to  come  and  see  him  and  Annie,  and  the  pears  were  to  be 
gathered,  and  the  children  were  to  have  a  treat. 

Harry,  in  his  impatience,  thought  the  morning  would  never 
be  over.  He  played  such  pranks,  buffeting  Frisk,  cutting  the 
curls  off'  Annie's  doll,  and  finally  breaking  his  grandmother's 
spectacles,  that  before  his  visitors  arrived,  indeed,  almost  imme- 
diately after  dinner,  he  contrived  to  be  sent  to  bed  in  disgrace. 

Poor  Harry!  thei'e  he  lay,  rolling  and  kicking,  while  Jane, 
and  William,  and  Annie,  were  busy  about  the  fine,  mellow 
Windsor  pears.  William  was  up  in  the  tree,  gathering  and 
shaking,  Annie  and  Jane  catching  them  in  their  aprons  and 
picking  them  up  from  the  ground;  now  piling  them  in  baskets, 
and  now  eating  the  nicest  and  ripest,  while  Frisk  was  barking 
gayly  among  them,  as  if  he  were  catching  Windsor  pears  too. 

Poor  Harry!  He  could  hear  all  this  glee  and  merriment, 
through  the  open  window,  as  he  lay  in  bed.  The  storm  of 
passion  having  subsided,  there  he  lay  weeping  and  disconso- 
late, a  gi'ievous^  sob  bursting  forth  every  now  and  then,  as  he 
heard  the  loud  peals  of  childish  laughter,  and  as  he  thought 
how  he  should  have  laughed,  and  how  happy  he  should  have 
been,  had  he  not  forfeited  all  this  pleasure  by  his  own  bad 
conduct. 

He  wondered  if  Annie  would  not  be  so  good-natured  as  to 
bring  him  a  pear.  All  on  a  sudden  he  heard  a  little  foot  on  the 
stair,  pit-a-pat,  and  he  thought  she  was  coming.  Pit-a-pat 
came  the  foot,  nearer  and  nearer,  and  at  last  a  small  head 
peeped,  half-afraid,  through  the  half-open  door. 

But  it  was  not  Annie's  head;  it  was  Frisk's — poor  Frisk, 
whom  Harry  had  been  teasing  and  tormenting  all  the  morning, 
and  who  came  into  the  room  wagging  his  tail,  with  a  great 
pear  in  his  mouth,  and,  jumping  up  on  the  bed,  he  laid  it  in  the 
little  boy's  hand. 

Is  not  Frisk  a  fine,  grateful  fellow?  and  does  he  not  deserve 
a  share  of  Harry's  breakfast,  whether  he  begs  for  it  or  not? 


THE  CLEVER  PHYSICIAN.  35 

And  little  Harry  will  remember  that  kindness  will  always  be 
rewarded,  and  that  ill-nature  and  bad  temper  arc  connected 
with  nothing  but  pain  and  disgrace. 

She  (slbvei^  Physician. 

There  was  once  a  little  boy  who  had  every  thing  his  heart 
could  desire — a  large  house,  a  beautiful  garden,  a  pony,  and  a 
dog,  and  many  playthings.  He  had  an  indulgent  mother  and 
two  nurses,  and  they  all  tried  to  please  him.  If  he  asked  for 
sweetmeats,  they  were  given  to  him;  if  he  wished  for  coffee 
and  cake  for  breakfast,  instead  of  bread  and  milk,  he  had  them. 
In  winter  he  did  not  walk  out  when  it  was  cold,  nor  in  the 
summer  when  it  was  too  hot;  and  yet  in  an  evening  he  would 
look  as  tired  as  if  he  had  worked  all  day. 

When  he  was  twelve  years  old  his  mother  grew  alarmed,  for 
every  day  he  seemed  to  have  a  new  form  of  illness.  She  took 
him  to  the  best  doctors,  but  the  medicines  were  of  no  use,  for 
he  threw  them  in  the  corner  as  he  had  his  lesson-books  and  his 
slate. 

At  length  his  mother  took  him  to  a  very  clever  physician  in 
a  neighboring  town.  The  physician  quickly  found  out  what 
ailed  the  little  boy,  and  he  promised  to  send  a  prescription  that 
would  cure  him.     The  ncKt  morning  this  letter  came: 

"Dear  Sir: — You  have  two  poisonous  serpents  within  you 
that  are  consuming  your  vital  powers  daily  and  hourly.  I  can- 
not cure  you  unless  you  come  and  live  an  hour's  distance  from 
my  house.  Every  morning,  before  breakfast,  you  must  walk 
to  my  house,  and  then  I  will  give  you  a  powder  which,  with  a 
lotion  in  the  afternoon,  will  kill  the  serpents.  But  the  powder 
will  be  of  no  avail  unless  you  go  to  school  two  hours  after  it; 
and  the  lotion  will  require  a  long  walk  before  taking  it.  If 
you  do  not  take  my  medicine,  you  will  not  hear  the  birds  sing 
next  spring." 

The  mother  of  the  little  boy  and  the  nurses  were  very  angry, 
but  the  physician  said  that  if  they  would  not  follow  the  pre- 
scription they  might  go  to  another  doctor. 

Then  the  mother  took  her  little  boy  to  some  lodgings  an 
hour's  distance  from  the  physician's  house. 

The  first  morning  the  little  fellow  could  scarcely  creep  along. 


36  CHILDREN'S  HOUR. 

The  mother  and  the  two  nurses  drove  in  a  carriage  behind  him, 
to  pick  him  up  if  he  should  grow  too  tired. 

"The  cruel  physician!"  said  the  nurses. 

The  next  morning  the  boy  was  very  tired;  but  the  third  and 
fourth  days  he  could  not  help  listening  to  the  cuckoo,  and 
thinking  the  air  was  sweet  and  balmy;  and  the  fifth  day  he 
even  relished  the  bread  and  milk  in  which  the  powder  was 
mixed. 

Thus  for  six  weeks  he  walked  and  went  to  school  every  day; 
his  cheeks  grew  rosy  and  his  eyes  bright,  and  he  no  longer 
pushed  his  bread  and  milk  away,  and  he  slept  soundly  all 
through  the  night.  She  was  going  to  take  him  home,  but  the 
physician  said: 

"The  serpents  may  be  killed,  but  they  may  have  left  3'oung 
ones.  Unless  you  give  him  bread  and  milk  for  breakfast,  and 
send  him  to  school,  and  give  him  no  sweetmeats,  they  will  grow 
within  him  and  kill  him." 

The  mother  gave  the  physician  a  large  fee  and  took  her  little 
boy  home.  But  when  he  was  grown  up,  and  had  become  a 
tall,  strong  man,  he  called  on  the  physician  to  thank  him  for 
his  prescription,  for  he  had  learned  the  names  of  the  two  ser- 
l^ents.     They  were  Laziness  and  Greediness. 

"In    CQOJPHBI^'S   HiiAGB." 

The  following  simple  anecdote,  which  we  find  in  a  recent 
periodical,  has  a  lesson  for  the  whole  family,  but  only  tired 
mothers  can  know  all  of  its  meaning:  • 

"  If  you  want  to  go  and  see  granny,  mother  dear,  you  start 
off  by  the  first  train  to-morrow  morning,"  said  Ted.  "  I  have 
a  holiday,  and  I'll  stay  at  home  and  take  care  of  baby  and  the 
house." 

"Could  you  manage?"  asked  his  mother,  doubtingly. 

"Manage?     Yes,  splendidly;  why,  there's  nothing  to  do!" 

Ted's  mother  smiled,  but  she  accepted  her  boy's  kind  oflfer, 
and  started  off  early  the  following  morning. 

"Now,  I'm  in  mother's  place,"  said  Ted  to  himself  "I  shall 
soon  get  all  the  work  done;  why,  there's  baby  awake  already!" 

Yes,  Master  Baby  was  awake,  and  insisted  upon  being  taken 
up  and  dressed  at  once.     When  that  performance  was  over  he 


DIDN'T  /,  DANf  37 

screamed  with  indignation  because  his  breakfast  was  not  ready 
for  him. 

"Ah,  I  remember,"  said  Ted;  "mother  told  me  she  always 
had  his  bread  and  milk  waiting  for  him.  It  seems  to  me  there's 
a  lot  of  things  to  remember  about  a  house  and  a  baby." 

A  great  number  of  things  poor  Ted  found  to  attend  to.  The 
beds  to  make,  the  rooms  to  sweep  and  dust,  the  fire  to  tend,  the 
meals  to  prepare,  and  Master  Baby  to  amuse. 

"It's  not  so  easy  as  I  thought  being  in  mother's  place,"  he 
said  to  himself  that  night,  as  he  listened  for  his  mother's  wel- 
come footstep. 

"Ah,  there  comes  mother!"  he  cried;  "and  very  glad  I  am 
to  see  her." 

F^B    HAS   NO  0)OTHEI^! 

Sitting  in  the  school-room,  I  overheard  a  conversation  be- 
tween a  sister  and  a  brother.  The  little  boy  complained  of  in- 
sults or  wrongs  received  from  another  little  boy.  His  face  was 
flushed  with  anger.  The  sister  listened  awhile,  and  then  turn- 
ing away,  she  answered,  "  I  don't  want  to  hear  another  word. 
Willie  has  no  mother^  The  brother's  lips  were  silent;  the  re- 
buke came  home  to  him,  and  stealing  away,  he  muttered,  "  I 
never  thought  of  that."  He  thought  of  his  own  mother,  and 
the  loneliness  of  "Willie"  compared  with  his  own  happy  lot. 
'^He  has  a  mother.''^  Do  we  think  of  it  when  want  comes  to 
the  orphan,  and  rude  words  assail  him?  Has  the  little  wan- 
derer 710  mother  to  listen  to  his  little  sorrows?  Speak  gently  to 
him,  then. 

"Didn't  I,  Dan?" 

"Jimmy,  have  you  watered  my  horse  this  morning?" 

"Yes,  uncle,  I  watered  him;  didn't  I,  Dan?"  he  added,  turn- 
ing to  his  younger  brother. 

"Of  course  you  did,"  responded  Dan 

The  gentleman  looked  at  the  boys  a  moment,  wondering  a 
little  at  Jimmy's  words;  then  he  rode  away. 

This  was  Mr.  Harley's  first  visit  with  his  nephews,  and  thus 
far  he  had  been  pleased  with  their  bright,  intelligent  faces  and 
kind  behavior.  Still  there  was  something  in  Jimmy's  appeal 
to  his  brother  that  impressed  him  unfavorably,  he  could  hardly 


38  CHILDREN'S  HOUR. 

tell  why;  but  the  cloud  of  disfavor  had  vanished  from  his  mind 
when,  two  hours  later,  he  turned  his  horse's  head  homeward. 
Just  in  the  bend  of  the  road  he  met  his  nephews,  Jimmy  bear- 
ing a  gun  over  his  shoulder. 

"Did  your  father  give  you  permission  to  carry  that  gun?"  he 
inquired. 

"Yes,  sir,"  replied  Jimmy;  "didn't  he,  Dan?" 

"Of  course  he  did,"  said  Dan. 

"And  of  course  I  believe  you,  Jimmy,  without  your  brother's 
word  for  it,"  said  Mr.  Harley. 

Jimmy's  face  flushed,  and  his  bright  eye  fell  below  his  uncle's 
gaze.  Mr.  Harley  noticed  his  nephew's  confusion  and  rode  on 
without  further  comment. 

"This  map  of  North  America  is  finely  executed;  did  you 
draw  it,  Jimmy  ? "  asked  Mr.  Hai'ley  that  afternoon,  while  look- 
ing over  a  book  of  drawings. 

"Yes,  sir,"  replied  Jimmy,  with  a  look  of  conscious  pride; 
then  turning  to  his  brother  he  added,  "Didn't  I,  Dan?" 

Mr.  Harley  closed  the  book  and  laid  it  on  the  table. 

"Jimmy,"  he  began,  "what  does  this  mean?  To  pvery  ques- 
tion that  I  have  asked  you  to-day,  you  have  appealed  to  Dan 
to  confirm  your  reply.  Cannot  your  own  word  be  trusted 
without  an  appeal  to  Dan?" 

Jimmy's  face  turned  scarlet,  and  he  looked  as  if  he  would 
like  to  vanish  from  his  uncle's  sight. 

"Not  always,"  he  murmured,  looking  straight  down  at  his 
boots. 

"  My  dear  boy,  I  was  afraid  of  this,"  said  Mr.  Harley,  kindly. 
"The  boy  who  always  speaks  the  truth  has  no  need  to  seek 
confirmation  from  another.  Do  you  mean  to  go  through  life 
always  having  to  say,  'Didn't  I,  Dan?'" 

"No,  uncle;  I'm  going  to  try  to  speak  the  truth  so  that  peo- 
ple will  believe  me  as  well  as  Dan,"  said  Jimmy,  quite  impul- 
sively. 

Mr.  Harley  spent  the  season  with  his  nephews,  and  before 
he  left  he  had  the  pleasure  of  hearing  people  say,  "What's 
come  over  Jimmy  Page?  He  never  says  lately,  'Didn't  I, 
Dan?'" 

Mr.  Harley  thought  it  was  because  Jimmy  was  gaining  con- 
fidence in  himself.     Do  you,  children? 


PLAYING  STAGE-COACH.  39 

fl  Sad  Disease. 

There  are  many  very  bad  diseases,  and  some  of  them  have 
very  strange  symptoms.  Some  of  the  sick  are  worse  in  the 
night,  some  are  worse  in  the  daytime,  some  are  worse  on  par- 
ticular days,  and  some  are  quite  sure  to  be  ill  when  work  drives, 
and  when  it  is  very  important  that  they  should  be  well. 

Zion's  Herald  tells  of  a  parsonage  in  Vermont  where  little 
Eddie  and  Georgie  heard  their  mamma  say  one  cold  Sunday 
morning: 

"  I  do  not  feel  very  well  this  morning.  I  have  a  very  hard 
cold,  and  my  lungs  feel  so  bad  and  sore  I  think  I  shall  not  be 
able  to  go  to  church  to-day.  I  shall  be  very  sorry  to  remain  at 
home." 

The  two  little  boys  heard  what  their  mamma  said,  and  re- 
mained in  bed,  after  she  went  down-stairs,  talking  together. 
After  a  little  time  Georgie,  the  younger,  appeared  at  the  foot  of 
the  stairs  and  said: 

"Mamma,  I  don't  feel  very  well  to-day!  And  Eddie  don't 
feel  very  well;  need  he  go  to  church  to-day?  He's  got  the 
head-ache,  and  the  neck-ache,  and  the  back-ache,  a-n-d  the 
stomach-ache,  a-n-d  a-n-d  leg-ache,  a-n-d  a-n-d" — calling  to  Ed- 
die uj^-stairs — "  what  else  is  it,  Eddie?"  Eddie  replies:  " Hand- 
ache!"  "O  yes,  hand-ache;  that's  all!  Need  Eddie  and  I  go 
to  church  to-day?" 

Poor  children!  What  a  dreadful  thing  to  have  all  these  dis- 
eases come  on  so  suddenly  Sunday  morning!  And  we  are 
afraid  poor  Georgie  will  have  a  touch  of  tongue-ache  and  heart- 
ache if  he  tells  such  stories  as  that. 

We  hope  none  of  our  readers  will  ever  have  an  attack  of 
this  disease.  The  true  name  of  it,  we  believe,  is  Sunday-sick- 
ness.    Watch  against  the  first  symptoms. 

^LAYING   SiPAGB-GOAGH. 

"All  wanting  the  same  place  makes  a  great  deal  of  trouble 
in  this  world,"  said  mamma,  thoughtfully.  "  Shall  I  tell  you  a 
little  story  about  it — something  I  know  is  true?" 

"O  yes,  do!"  chimed  the  children. 

"  It  is  a  very  sad  story,  but  I  will  tell  it  to  you,"  she  went  on, 
•'  and  the  next  time  that  you  are  tempted  to  be  selfish,  stop  and 


40  CHILDREN 'S  HOUR. 

think  of  it.  Once,  long  ago,  there  were  four  children  playing 
stage-coach,  just  as  you  have  been  doing  now,  and,  just  like 
you,  they  all  wanted  the  first  place.  Instead  of  playing  on  a 
log,  however,  they  were  in  the  spreading  branches  of  a  wil- 
low-tree. 

" '  I  want  to  drive,'  said  Lucy,  getting  in  the  driver's  seat. 

" '  No,  let  me  drive,'  and  Harry  climbed  up  beside  her.  '  Let 
me  sit  there.' 

"  But  Lucy  did  not  move. 

"''  Let  me  sit  there,'  repeated  Harry,  giving  her  a  slight  push 
and  crowding  his  way  on  the  same  branch  where  she  sat. 
'You  must  let  me  drive.' 

"A  moment  more,  a  sudden  crash,  and  they  were  on  the 
ground.     The  branch  had  broken. 

"  Harry  was  on  his  feet  instantly,  trying  to  raise  his  sister,  but 
there  was  a  sharp  cry  of  pain,  then  she  lay  very  still.  Mother 
and  father  came  running  out  of  the  house  and  gently  lifted  the 
little,  fainting  form,  from  which  the  arm  hung  limp  and  broken. 
There  was  sorrow  and  crying,  but  it  was  too  late;  nothing 
could  turn  aside  the  weeks  of  suffering  and  pain  that  must  be 
borne  before  the  little  girl  could  take  her  place  again  among 
the  other  children,  I  think  they  all  learned  a  lesson  of  loving 
unselfishness  in  those  days,  each  trying  who  could  bring  the 
most  brightness  and  happiness  into  dreary  hours.  I  was  that 
little  girl,  and  I  learned  to  appreciate  little  kindnesses  as  I  had 
never  done  before.  It  was  then  that  I  learned  something  else, 
too — something  that  I  want  you  all  to  remember,"  and  mamma 
looked  at  the  little  group.  "It  is,  'Even  Christ  pleased  not 
himself.' " 

fl  ^iNTEi^  Game. 

A  pleasant  game  to  entertain  the  young  people  on  winter 
evenings  is  simple  word-building.  Each  child  has  a  slate,  or 
paper  and  pencil,  and  writes  the  letters  as  the  mother  gives 
them,  for  instance  :  "  g,  i,  g,  i,  n,  a,  v,  h,  k,  t,  s,  n."  Each  tries 
to  be  the  first  to  see  that  it  makes  "Thanksgiving."  Every  let- 
ter given  must  be  used.  The  one  who  succeeds  first  has  the 
right  to  give  the  next  word.  Of  course  the  words  must  be 
adapted  to  the  capacity  of  the  children.  It  not  only  teaches 
spelling,  but  quick  thinking,  and  demands  close  attention,  and 
if  well  managed  the  little  folks  will  grow  enthusiastic. 


selling  the  baby.  41 

Selling  the  Baby. 


BY  MAY  HAINES. 


Baby  is  fast  asleep  in  his  cradle.  Such  a  wee,  tiny  baby,  only 
four  weeks  old,  with  a  red  face,  pug  nose,  and  a  mouth  that 
looks  larger  than  all  the  rest  of  his  head,  when  he  cries.  A 
baby  that  is  not  waked  up  yet,  for  his  eyes  are  shut  most  of  the 
time  like  a  little  kitten's.  Tommy  and  Bobby  did  not  think 
him  very  nice,  and  said:  "See  Lord  ought  to  have  sent  a  girl 
baby.  Dot  nuff  boys  in  this  house."  Well,  just  the  day  be- 
fore, the  boys  were  down  town  with  Anna,  and  told  the  man 
at  the  store  about  their  baby. 

"Bring  him  down,  and  I'll  buy  him,"  said  the  man.  "I'd 
give  a  bushel  of  candy  for  a  baby." 

A  whole  bushel  of  candy!  Only  think  of  it!  They  could 
eat  candy  instead  of  potatoes  for  dinner,  and  mamma  should 
have  lots  and  lots,  so  she  wouldn't  ever  think  about  her  baby 
again. 

Mamma  is  in  the  kitchen  showing  Anna  how  to  can  berries, 
and  never  dreams  that  her  little  boys  are  lifting  her  baby,  all 
rolled  in  blankets,  out  of  his  cradle  into  the  deep  box  of  their 
little  cart.  * 

"You  wift  his  wheels,  Bobby,  and  I'll  take  his  hears." 

Good  thing  the  blankets  are  so  thick!  Bumpety,  bumpety, 
bump!  bumpety,  bumpety,  bump!  Folks  wonder  what  those 
two  wee  boys  have  all  done  up  in  their  cart,  but  nobotly  thinks 
it  their  business  to  ask.  Baby  opens  his  eyes  and  wonders  why 
they  rock  the  cradle  so  hard,  but  the  harder  they  rock  the  bet- 
ter he  likes  it,  so  he  shuts  his  eyes  again.  Bumpety,  bumpety, 
bump!  The  ponies  all  see  the  boys,  and  are  careful  not  to  step 
upon  them.  Mamma's  little  boys,  who  were  never  down  town 
alone  before! 

"Want  to  sell  a  baby?" 

"Arrh!" 

"Well,  where  is  your  baby?" 

"  In  ee  cart.  Want  butchel  of  tanny.  You  said  so  to-morzow 
arternoon." 

"Ya,  ya,  ya-a-a-a-a-a!"  the  cradle  has  stopped  rocking,  and 
baby  is  awake. 


42  CHILDREN'S  HOUR. 

"Gracious  me!"  cries  the  storeman,  raising  the  blanket,  and 
seeing  two  bright  eyes  wide  open;  "if  these  boys  haven't  got 
a  live  baby  here!  " 

"Ya,  ya,  ya-a-a-a-a-a!"  There  is  a  crowd  in  the  store  now, 
and  every  one  is  talking,  and  no  one  knows  who  the  boys  are, 
nor  whose  the  baby  is. 

"Name  Bobby  and  Tommy,"  says  Tommy;  "wive  in  house 
at  home;  papa's  name  Chorge." 

Dr.  L ,  whose  office  is  across  the  street,  sees  the  crowd, 

and  crosses  over. 

"What's  the  trouble?" 

"Why,  here  is  a  lost  baby,  and  nobody  knows  whose;  per- 
haps he  belongs  to  one  of  your  patients." 

Dr.  L fixes  his  spectacles,  takes  the  baby,  and  looks  very 

wise,  but  does  not  know  whose  it  is  until  he  hears — 

"Papa,  papa,"  and  two  little  boys  catch  the  doctor's  coat-tails. 

"Why,  bless  me!  how  did  you  get  down  here,  boys?" 

Folks  are  laughing  now,  and  say:  "Didn't  know  his  own 
baby!     Good  joke  on  the  doctor!" 

Bumpety,  bumpety,  bump!  Mamma  looks  out  of  the  win- 
dow and  wonders  at  the  crowd  coming  up  the  street.  A  vexed- 
looking  man  drawing  a  cart,  two  little  boys  and  a  baby  crying, 
and  a  flock  of  boys  following  and  shoutingMn  the  rear. 

Mamma  wonders,  too,  what  makes  baby  sleep  so  long  this 
morning;  but  mamma  soon  finds  out,  for  what  mamma  wouldn't 
know  her  own  baby  if  she  found  it  a  thousand  miles  from 
home?  Baby  is  large  now:  a  laughing,  jolly,  little  fellow, 
whom  the  boys  wouldn't  sell  for  his  weight  in  candy. 

Playthings  of  ifhb  (©hildi^bn  in  flPr^iGA. 

The  girls  in  Africa,  as  elsewhere,  are  fond  of  dolls;  but  they 
like  them  best  alive,  so  they  take  puppies  for  the  purpose,  and 
carry  them  about  tied  to  their  backs  as  their  mothers  carry 
babies.  Some  of  them  "  play  baby  "  with  little  pigs.  The  boys 
play  shoot  with  a  gun  made  to  imitate  the  "white  man's  gun." 
Two  pieces  of  cane  tied  together  make  the  barrels,  the  stock  is 
made  of  clay,  and  the  smoke  is  a  turf  of  loose  cotton. 

In  one  African  tribe  the  boys  have  spears  made  of  reeds, 
shields,  bows  and  arrows,  with  which  they  imitate  their  fathers' 


THE  FEAST  OF  LIGHTS  IN  INDIA.  43 

doings;  and  they  make  animals  out  of  clay,  while  their  sisters 
"jump  the  rope."  Besides,  the  African  children,  like  children 
all  over  the  world,  enjoy  themselves  "making  believe."  Thev 
imitate  the  life  around  them,  not  playing  "keep  house,"  "go 
visiting,"  or  "give  a  party,"  because  they  see  none  of  these 
things  in  their  homes;  but  they  pretend  building  a  hut,  making 
clay  jars,  and  crushing  corn  to  eat. 

©HE  Feast  op  InGHTS  in  India. 

There  is  a  feast  in  India  that  the  children  look  forward  to 
with  much  pleasure.  It  is  called  Divali,  or  the  feast  of  lights. 
Just  before  this  festival  comes  on,  people  are  very  busy  clean- 
ing house,  because  they  say  that  at  that  time  a  little  old  god- 
dess, like  a  fairy,  comes  around,  and  goes  into  every  house  after 
dark  to  see  if  it  is  neat  and  clean;  and  she  blesses  all  whom  she 
finds  living  in  the  nice  clean  houses,  and  punishes  all  whom  she 
finds  in  dirty  houses.  When  the  day  comes  for  her  visiting  to 
begin,  they  light  up  their  houses  inside  and  outside  with  little 
oil  lamps.  These  lamps  are  usually  nothing  more  than  little 
saucers,  with  bits  of  cotton  in  them  for  wicks.  They  are 
placed  in  a  row,  a  few  inches  apart  from  each  other,  along  the 
roof  or  over  the  doors  of  the  houses.  Sometimes  there  are 
three  or  four  rows  of  them  on  one  house,  and  they  look  very 
pretty  at  a  distance,  especially  if  you  look  down  a  narrow 
street.     It  seems  as  if  the  houses  had  suddenly  turned  to  gold. 

Of  course,  the  children  enjoy  having  every  thing  lighted  up; 
but  they  enjoy  something  else  that  goes  along  with  the  lighting 
up  a  great  deal  better,  and  that  is  fire-crackers.  You  would 
think  it  was  Fourth  of  July  in  India,  were  you  to  be  there 
when  this  festival  occurs.  The  crackers  come  from  China,  and 
are  just  like  what  you  get  here.  But  besides  the  cannon  crack- 
ers and  the  ordinary  crackers,  there  is  something  the  girls  like 
to  fire  off",  because  it  does  not  make  a  noise  and  because  it  is  so 
pretty.  It  is  a  squib  done  up  in  white  paper,  and,  after  setting 
fire  to  it,  they  hold  it  out  at  arm's  length,  and  beautiful  stars 
flash  out  and  drop  from  it  to  the  ground.  Three,  four,  or  even 
six  stars  drop  from  one  of  these  squibs. 

Besides  these  gunpowder  amusements,  there  is  to  be  had  at 
this  time  a  particular  kind  of  candy  that  is  not  made  by  the 


44  CHILDREN'S  HOUR. 

confectioners  at  other  times.  It  is  made  out  of  sugar  and  milk, 
and  is  very  delicious  to  eat.  It  is  shaped  into  horses,  elephants, 
monkeys,  men,  temples,  balls,  and  all  sorts  of  fancy  things;  but 
the  favorite  way  of  making  it  is  in  the  form  of  large  coins,  as 
big  as  silver  dollars,  with  strings  run  through  them,  so  that 
children  can  wear  a  necklace  of  them.  And  that,  you  see,  is 
very  handy,  for  the  child  can  take  a  bite  every  now  and  then, 
whenever  he  chooses. 

What  with  fire-crackers,  sugar  necklaces,  and  the  illumina- 
tions which  last  three  nights,  no  wonder  the  children  in  India 
think  the  Divdli  a  grand  good  time.  I  think  they  prefer  it,  on 
the  whole,  to  any  of  the  other  great  days  of  the  year. —  Gospel 
in  All  Lands. 

^HII^P  AND   r)OR 

Chirp  and  Hop  lived  in  the  same  field.  Chirp  was  a  little 
cricket.  Hop  was  a  big  grasshopper.  They  were  cousins. 
Some  people  thought  they  looked  alike. 

"  You  will  never  be  as  pretty  as  I  am,"  said  Chirp  to  Hop. 

"Why  not?"  asked  Hop. 

"  Because  you  will  never  be  so  black  and  shiny,"  said  Chirp. 

"Well,"  said  Hop,  "you  will  never  be  so  lovely  and  green 
as  I  am." 

Then  they  shook  feet  to  show  they  were  very  good  friends. 
Crickets  and  grasshoppers  cannot  shake  hands,  for  they  have 
no  hands. 

"Cousin  Chirp,"  said  Hop  one  day,  "let  us  go  on  a  journey 
together." 

"Where  shall  we  go?"  asked  Chirp. 

"To  the  hay-field,  to  see  old  Brindle." 

"Very  well,  Hop.  I  hear  she  has  fine  clover  in  the  field," 
said  Chirp. 

So  they  started.  In  a  minute  Chirp  cried,  "O  dear!  How 
fast  you  go ! " 

Hop  looked  quite  cross.  He  called  out,  "Well,  can't  you 
hurry?" 

"No,  no,"  said  Chirp,  "my  legs  are  not  so  long  as  yours. 
Please  go  slow." 

"  I  will  not,"  said  Hop.  "John  will  soon  come  to  let  down 
the  bars,  and  take  Brindle  home." 


AT  THE  FIRESIDE.  45 

"It  is  very  early,  dear  Hop,"  said  poor  little  Chirp.  "John 
will  not  come  until  night.     Please  wait." 

But  Hop  was  almost  out  of  sight.  Chirp  could  hardly  hear 
his  cross  "no."  Chirp  jumped  along  as  fast  as  he  could,  but 
he  got  to  the  field  long  after  Hoj)  got  there.  * 

,   He  looked  through  a  hole,  but  he  could  not  see  his  cousin. 

In  a  minute  Brindle  came  to  the  fence.  She  liked  Chirp,  be- 
cause he  always  sung  such  a  happy  song. 

"Who  are  you  looking  for,  my  dear?"  said  Brindle. 

"  For  my  Cousin  Hop.  Do  you  know  where  he  is,  dear 
Brindle?" 

"  Yes,  indeed,"  said  Brindle.     She  shook  her  head  sadly. 

"  He  hopped  over  my  fence  just  as  Jocko,  the  rooster,  came 
along." 

"O  my!  O  my!"  said  Chirp. 

"He  could  not  get  out  of  the  rooster's  way,"  said  Brindle. 
"  He  had  come  across  the  field  so  fast  he  was  out  of  breath." 

"O  dear!  O  dear!"  was  all  Chirp  could  say. 

"Yes,"  said  Brindle,  "he  could  not  get  out  of  the  way,  and 
so  Jocko  gobbled  him  up." 

"  I  guess  he  wished  he  had  waited  for  me,"  said  little  Chirp. 

"It  never  pays  to  be  unkind,"  said  Binndle.  "Come  in  and 
have  some  clover,  my  dear."  • 

flip   IPHE-  Fir^ESIDS. 

At  nightfall  by  the  firelight's  cheer 
My  little  Margaret  sits  me  near, 
And  begs  me  tell  of  things  that  were    * 
When  I  was  little  just  like  her. 

Ah,  little  lips,  you  touch  the  spring 
Of  sweetest  sad  remembering. 
And  hearth  and  heart  flash  all  aglow 
With  ruddy  tints  of  long  ago. 

I  at  my  father's  fireside  sit. 

Youngest  of  all  who  circle  it,  ' 

And  beg  him  tell  me  what  did  he 
■    When  he  was  little  just  like  me. 


46  children's  hour. 

Only  a  Boy. 

"I'm  only  a  boy!"  did  you  say? 
Well,  yes,  I'm  only  a  boy — 
A  boy  full  of  mischievous  play; 
Let  me  ask,  Were  you  ever  a  boy? 

I  am  only  a  boy!     What  of  that? 

I  shall  grow,  if  I  live,  to  a  man; 
I  shall  throw  away  tops,  ball  and  bat. 

And  work  on  a  definite  plan. 

I  shall  play  in  right  earnest  till  then, 
I  shall  throw  my  heart  into  each  game; 

You  will  find  that  the  noblest  of  men 
In  their  boyhood  were  ever  the  same. 

I  am  fond  of  historical  books. 

If  they're  writ  in  a  nice  sort  of  way; 

About  Nelson  and  brave  Captain  Cook — 
I  could  ixad  their  adventures  all  day. 

I  am  only  a  boy,  it  is  true; 

It  would  do  you  good,  sir,  by  far, 
To  romp  about  now  as  I  do 

•Than  to  puflf  at  that  sickly  cigar. 

I'm  a  Band  of  Hope  boy,  sir;  I've  signed 
The  pledge  to  abstain  from  strong  drink; 

And  there's  many  a  man  I  could  find 
Would  do  well  to  do  that,  sir,  I  think. 

Yes,  there's  many  a  man  that  I  know 
Would  do  better  to  act  in  that  way, 
Than  to  win  himself  boundless  wealth, 
«  For  wealth  would  but  lead  him  astray. 

I  am  only  a  boy,  it  is  true. 

But  I'm  going  to  do  what  I  can; 

And  if  I  do  that,  sir,  why  you 

Will  believe  I  shall  make  a  good  man. 

I  shall  fight  for  the  right  while  I  can, 
And  my  talents  and  time  well  employ; 

If  I  would  be  a  temperance  man. 
Why,  I  must  be  a  temperance  boy. 


WA  SUING  TON  A  T  SCHO  OL.  47 

05ASHINGTON   AT  SGHOOL. 


BY  8.  E,  8.  8. 


Every  school-boy  is  familiar  with  the  anecdote  illustrating 
George  Washington's  love  of  truth  wljen  a  child.  Perhaps 
some  would  like  to  know  more  about  him  as  a  lad  and  a  youth. 

lie  was  a  strong,  vigorous  boy,  fond  of  active  exercise,  excel- 
ling in  leaping  and  wrestling.  These  sports  assisted  in  giving 
him  extraordinary  power  of  endurance,  which  he  afterwards 
found  of  great  value  in  the  hardships  and  exposure  he  had  to 
undergo  as  a  soldier. 

In  those  unsettled  times,  when  war  was  continually  talked  of, 
it  was  natural  that  the  boys  should  enjoy  forming  little  regi- 
ments among  themselves,  and  George  proved  a  good  leader  in 
their  drills  and  mimic  battles;  but  when  anger  caused  his  com- 
rades to  engage  in  a  real  fight,  it  was  always  he  who  stepped 
between  and  shamed  them  out  of  so  unworthy  a  spirit.  He 
was  their  favorite  umpire,  for  they  relied  on  the  justice  of  his 
decision. 

But  George's  school-days  ended  when  he  was  fifteen,  and  he 
could  not  have  spent  study-hours  in  play,  for  by  that  time  we 
find  he  had  made  long  advances  toward  a  good  education. 
Better  even  than  the  learning  of  books,  he  had  learned  to  study, 
to  think,  for  himself — train  and  watch  his  thoughts  and  acts. 

Washington  is  admired  the  world  around,  not  only  for  his 
noble  deeds  as  a  general  and  as  the  ruler  of  a  great  nation,  but 
being  a  perfect  gentleman  in  manner,  and  strictly  moral  in  char- 
acter. He  did  not  wait  until  manhood  to  begin  to  lay  the  foun- 
dation for  this  grand  reputation. 

There  are  yet  preserved  several  small  square  blank-books, 
which,  when  only  twelve  years  old,  he  filled,  in  a  neat,  clear 
hand,  with  carefully  worked  mathematical  examples,  copies  of 
legal  forms,  and  with  poetical  selections  of  a  religious  kind, 
besides  quotations  from  a  book  by  the  good  and  learned  Sir 
Matthew  Hale,  called  "  Contemplations,  Moral  and  Divine," 
which  his  mother  had  been  used  to  read  to  him  with  his  daily 
lesson  in  the  Bible.  This  work  had  a  deep  influence  in  im- 
planting in  him  the  reverence  for  God,  the  devotion  to  right. 


48  CHILDREN'S  HOUR. 

and  the  sense  of  the  value  of  time,  which  distinguished  him 
through  life. 

The  rules  which  he  laid  down  for  his  personal  conduct,  even 
at  this  eai'ly  age,  and  which  were  also  written  in  one  of  his 
little  books,  may  be  of  interest  to  some  of  our  school-boys,  who 
are  beginning  to  think  what  kind  of  men  shall  bear  their  names 
a  few  years  from  now: 

"  Every  action  in  company  should  be  with  some  sign  of  re- 
spect to  those  present. 

"  Be  no  flatterer. 

"  Show  not  yourself  glad  at  the  misfortune  of  another,  though 
he  were  your  enemy. 

"  Strive  not  with  your  superiors  in  argument,  but  always  sub- 
mit your  judgment  to  others  with  modesty. 

"When  a  man  does  all  he  can,  though  it  succeeds  not,  blame 
not  him  that  did  it. 

"  Take  all  admonitions  thankfully,  in  what  tithe  or  place  soever 
given;  but  afterwards,  not  being  culpable,  take  a  time  or  place 
convenient  to  let  him  know  it  that  gave  them. 

"Wherein  you  reprove  another  be  unblamable  yourself,  for 
example  is  more  prevalent  than  precept. 

"  Be  not  hasty  to  believe  flying  reports  to  the  disparagement 
of  any. 

"Associate  yourself  with  men  of  good  quality,  if  you  esteem 
your  own  reputation;  for  it  is  better  to  be  alone  than  in  bad 
company. 

"When  another  speaks,  be  attentive  yourself,  and  disturb  not 
the  audience.  If  any  hesitate  in  his  words,  help  him  not,  nor 
prompt  him  without  being  desired;  interrupt  him  not,  nor  an- 
swer him  until  his  speech  be  ended. 

"  Be  not  apt  to  relate  news  if  you  know  not  the  truth  thereof. 
In  discoursing  of  things  you  have  heard,  name  not  your  author 
always.     A  secret  discover  not. 

"  Speak  not  evil  of  the  absent  ones,  for  it  is  unjust. 

"When  you  speak  of  God,  or  his  attributes,  let  it  be  seriously, 
in  reverence.  Honor  and  obey  your  natural  parents,  though 
they  be  poor. 

"  Let  your  recreations  be  manful,  not  sinful. 

"  Labor  to  keep  alive  in  your  breast  that  little  spark  of  celes- 
tial fire  called  conscience." 


choosing  a  kitten. 
Choosing  a  I^tipen. 

There  were  five,  and  they  found  them  in  the  hay- 
Five  httle  kittens,  stowed  away 

So  snug  and  warm 

And  far  from  harm 
That,  had  it  not  been  for  the  children's  play, 
They'd  have  lived  in  secret  to  this  day. 

Jack  put  the  yellow  one  in  his  hat; 
The  black  one  nimble,  the  white  one  fat, 
He  claimed  beside. 
Then  Teddy  cried: 
"I  speak  for  this!"  and  "I  speak  for  that!" 
(None  left,  you  see,  for  the  poor  old  cat!) 

Old  Puss  had  thought  herself  so  wise; 
But  what  can  you  hide  from  the  children's  eyes? 
"So  beautiful!"  said 
The  breathless  Ted, 
They're  all  asleep,  and  all  of  a  size!" 
And  they  bore  to  the  house  the  wondrous  prize. 

Did  mamma  smile?     Ah,  no!  she  frowned; 
And  the  rest  of  the  children  gathered  round, 
And  Teddy  heard 
The  dreadful  word: 
'"Tis  very  fortunate  they  were  found — 
Keep  one,  but  the  others  must  be  drowned!" 

Then  each  would  choose!     So  down  they  sat; 
'Twas  this  one  first,  and  then  'twas  that: 

Each  making  choice. 

With  eager  voice. 
Of  the  white  or  the  gray,  the  slim  or  the  fat — 
Just  which  he  chanced  to  be  looking  at. 

Ted  said,  at  last:  "We  can't  spare  none!" 
(His  grammar  was  poor,  but  his  tactics  won.) 
"We'll  hide  them  away 
Again  in  the  hay! 
Put  two  in  your  hat  and  run.  Jack,  run! 
We'll  save  them  all!"     And  it  was  done. 
4 


50  CHILDREN'S  HOUR. 

flSI^ING  gUBSiPIONS. 

An  old  owl  lived  in  a  hollow  tree, 

And  in  her  nest  were  owlets  three; 

They  were  soft  and  downy,  and  all  of  a  size, 

And  they  had  such  eyes — such  great  round  eyes. 

The  mother  dearly  loved  her  brood. 
But  her  habits  were  not  very  good; 
She  stayed  at  home  the  whole  day  through, 
And  at  night  went  hooting  about,  "Tu  whoo! 
"Tuwhoo!" 

The  owlets  loved  the  moonlight  well. 
But  if  ever  a  speck  of  sunshine  fell 
By  any  chance  through  a  leafy  chink, 
It  dazzled  them  so  and  made  them  blink. 

And  if  in  the  twilight,  dim  and  still, 
A  voice  declared  'twould  whip-poor-will, 
They  fluttered,  and  wondered  what  to  do. 
And  each  one  faintly  squeaked,  "Ah  whoo! 
"Ah  whoo!" 

Once  in  a  while  to  her  hollow  house 

Old  gray-wing  bore  a  shuddering  mouse, 

And  the  eager  owlets  over  the  prize 

Would  open  their  eyes — their  great  round  eyes. 

They  would  flap  their  wings  at  the  tempting  sight, 
Yet  after  all  were  so  polite. 
That  if  the  mother  asked,  "Tu  whoo?" 
They  would  all  three  answer  her,  "Ah  whoo! 
"Ah  whoo!" 

Little  two-year-old  Grace  was  with  her  parents  at  church, 
seated  in  the  Amen-corner,  and,  like  all  good  Methodists,  the 
brethren  and  sisters  in  the  corner  kneeled  during  prayer,  her 
mamma  with  the  others.  Her  papa,  not  being  so  reverential, 
chose  to  sit  upon  the  bench.  Grace,  observing  that  all  others 
around  them  were  down,  said,  to  the  embarrassment  of  her 
papa,  "I^nee'  down,  papa,  knee'  down!" 


TWO  PENNIES.  61 

CtJATGHiNG  One's  Selp. 

"When  I  was  a  boy,"  said  an  old  man,  "we  had  a  school- 
master who  had  an  odd  wajj^of  catchnig  the  idle  boys.  One 
day  he  called  out  to  us,  '  Boys,  I  must  have  closer  attention  to 
your  books.  The  first  one  that  sees  another  idle  I  want  you  to 
inform  me,  and  I  will  attend  to  the  case.' 

"'Ah,'  thought  I  to  myself,  'there  is  Joe  Simmons  that  I  don't 
like.  I'll  watch  him,  and  if  I  see  him  look  off  his  book,  I'll 
tell.'  It  was  not  long  before  I  saw  Joe  look  off  his  book,  and 
immediately  I  informed  the  master. 

"'Indeed!'  said  he,  'how  did  you  know  he  was  idle?' 

"'I  saw  him,'  said  I. 

"'Yow  did?  And  were  your  eyes  on  your  book  when  you 
saw  him? ' 

"  I  was  caught,  and  I  never  watched  for  idle  boys  again. 

"  If  we  are  sufficiently  watchful  over  our  own  conduct,  we 
shall  have  no  time  to  find  fault  with  the  conduct  of  others." 

©WO   l^BNNIES. 

It  was  a  bright  spring  evening  when  little  Polly  stole  softly 
into  her  father's  room,  with  shoeless  feet,  and  her  golden  hair 
falling  lightly  over  her  night-gown;  for  it  was  bed-time,  and 
she  had  come  to  say  "  Good-night." 

"  Father,"  said  the  little  one,  raising  her  blue  eyes  to  his  kind 
face,  "father,  may  I  say  my  prayers  beside  you,  for  mother  is 
too  ill  for  me  to  go  to  her  to-night?" 

"  Yes,  pet,"  he  answered,  tenderly  stroking  the  curly  head. 

And  reverently  the  child  knelt  down  beside  him,  and  repeated 
her  evening  prayer,  adding  at  the  close,  with  special  earnest- 
ness, "  God  bless  my  two  pennies." 

What  can  the  child  mean?  thought  her  father  in  surprise; 
and  when  the  little  white-robed  figure  was  gone,  he  went  and 
asked  her  mother  if  she  knew  what  her  little  daughter  meant, 

"  O  yes,"  said  the  lady.  "  Polly  has  prayed  that  prayer  every 
night  since  she  put  her  two  pennies  into  the  plate  at  the  last 
missionary  meeting." 

Dear  children,  have  you  ever  prayed  to  God  for  a  blessing  on 
the  pennies  you  have  put  into  the  missionary  box?  If  not,  be 
sure  you  never  forget  to  do  so  in  the  future. 


62  children's  hour. 

Baby's  Fif^st  Bii^iphday. 


BY  KATE  C.  NELSON. 


'Tis  baby's  first  birthday.     O  what  shall  we  say 
To  this  dear  little  boy,  who's  a  year  old  to-day? 
Shall  we  kiss  him,  and  give  him  some  beautiful  toy? 
Shall  we  greet  him,  and  wish  him  a  life  full  of  joy? 
Shall  we  chide  him,  and  tell  him  he's  been  a  great  care? 
Shall  we  praise  his  bright  eyes  and  his  soft,  silky  hair? 

Shall  we  laugh  when  he's  happy, 
And  weep  when  he's  sad? 

Be  proud  when  he's  funny, 
And  grieve  when  he's  bad? 
Speak  quickly,  and  tell  me  just  what  we  should  say 
To  this  dear  little  boy,  who's  a  year  old  to-day. 

May  his  childhood  be  sweet  as  the  blossoms  of  spring; 
May  his  boyhood  be  free  as  the  birds  on  the  wing; 
May  his  manhood  be  pure  as  this  first  year  has  been; 
May  his  whole  life  be  noble,  untarnished  by  sin; 
May  God  send  his  blessing,  we  earnestly  pray. 
To  this  dear  little  boy,  who's  a  year  old  to-day. 

Let  us  try  so  to  live  that  in  us  he  may  see 

The  model  of  all  we  would  wish  him  to  be; 

Let  our  looks  be  most  gentle,  our  words  always  kind, 

That  no  thought  of  harshness  may  enter  his  mind; 

Let  us  ever  be  mindful  of  all  that  we  say 

To  this  dear  little  boy,  who's  a  year  old  to-day. 

Yes,  we'll  kiss  him,  and  give  him  some  beautiful  toy. 
And  we'll  greet  him  and  wish  him  "a  life  full  of  joy; 
We'll  not  scold  him  or  chide  him  for  being  a  care. 
For  the  love  he  brought  with  him  is  precious  and  rare 

We'll  laugh  when  he's  happy, 
And  weep  when  he's  sad; 

Be  proud  when  he's  funny, 
And  grieve  when  he's  bad. 
We'll  do  all  that  we  can  to  brighten  the  way 
Of  this  dear  little  boy,  who's  a  year  old  to-day. 


JOHNNY'S  REASON.  53 

"^HANGED   THE    I5{ULB." 

A  bright  little  girl,  three  years  old,  said  to  her  mamma  one 
day:  "If  anybody  calls  me  a  nuisance  again,  I  shall  leave  the 
room." 

The  mother,  to  try  her,  said,  "You're  a  nuisance." 

The  little  miss  arose  from  her  seat,  and  walked  with  dignity 
across  the  room;  but  when  she  saw  she  would  be  obliged  to  go 
alone,  with  no  particular  pleasure  in  prospect,  she  came  back, 
sat  down,  and  said:  "  I've  changed  the  rule;  whoever  calls  me 
a  nuisance  must  leave  the  room." 

Do  not  a  great  many  children  "change  the  rule"  they  have 
once  made,  and  thus  their  good  intentions  about  early  rising, 
hard  study,  obedience  to  parents,  etc.,  come  to  naught  because 
they  are  not  willing  to  bear  the  self-denial  they  require? 

(ilOHNNY'S   FjBASON. 

A  circus  came  to  town,  and  everybody  knows  how  the  music 
and  the  grand  tent  and  horses  set  all  the  boys  agog.  Quarters 
and  shillings  are  in  great  demand,  and  many  a  choice  bit  of 
money  have  the  circus-riders  carried  away  which  was  meant 
for  better  purposes. 

A  little  boy  was  s>een  looking  around  the  premises  with  a 
great  deal  of  curiosity.  "Halloo,  Johnny,"  said  a  man  who 
knew  him,  "going  to  the  circus?" 

"  No,  sir,"  answered  Johnny,  "  father  don't  like  'em." 

"  O  well,  I'll  give  you  the  money  to  go,  Johnny,"  said  the 
man. 

"  Father  don't  approve  of  them,"  answered  Johnny. 

"Well,  go  in  for  once,  and  I'll  pay  for  you." 

"  No,  sir,"  answered  Johnny,  "  my  father  would  give  me  the 
money  if  he  thought  'twere  best;  besides,  I've  got  twenty-five 
cents  in  my  strong  box — twice  enough  to  go." 

"I'd  go,  Johnny,  for  once;  it's  wonderful  the  way  the  horses 
do,"  said  the  man.     "  Your  father  needn't  know  it." 

"  I  can't,"  said  the  boy. 

"Now,  why?"  asked  the  man. 

"  'Cause,"  said  Johnny,  twirling  his  bare  feet  in  the  sand, 
"  after  I've  been,  I  couldn't  look  my  father  right  in  the  eye,  but 
I  can  now." 


64  children's  hour. 

Paii^y-Foli^. 

"Do  I  believe  in  fairy  stories?" 
Darling,  of  course  I  do;  ♦ 

In  giants  so  tall; 
Asd  Titania  small, 
I  believe  in  them  all; 
Don't  you? 
"Was  there  ever  any  Red  Riding  Hood?" 
O  yes,  without  a  doubt.  < 

There  are  wolves  to-day, 
To  lead  you  astray; 
When  they  come  in  your  way. 
Look  out! 
"And  was  there  really  a  Cinderella, 
With  haughty  sisters?"     Why,  yes, 
I've  met  w^ith  her  since; 
And,  though  proud  ones  may  wince, 
She'll  marry  the  Prince, 
I  guess. 
-  And  the  fairy-folk  will  never,  no,  never 
Refuse  to  help  you  along. 
If  you  form  an  alliance 
With  first-class  giants. 
And  bid  defiance 
To  wrong. 
Love  and  Duty  are  real  twin  fairies, 
Beautiful,  good,  and  true; 
By  them  we're  attended; 
By  them  we're  commended; 
I  think  they're  just  splendid — 
Don't  you? 

F^OLD  On. 

Hold  on  to  your  hand  when  you  are  about  to  strike,  pinch„ 
scratch,  steal,  or  do  any  disobedient  or  improper  act.  Hold  on 
to  your  foot  when  you  are  on  the  point  of  kicking,  running 
away  from  duty,  pursuing  the  path  of  sin,  shame,  or  crime. 
Hold  on  to  your  temper  when  you  are  angry,  excited,  or  im- 
posed upon,  or  others  are  angry  about  you. 


A  FOURTH  OF  JULY  CELEBUATION.  55 

P   POUI^TH   OP  ^UliY   ^BLBBI^ATION. 

It  was  a  grand  day  at  Mellontown,  for  the  people  had  all 
joined  in  celebrating  the  Fourth  of  July.  One  man  read  the 
famous  "  Declaration  of  Independence;"  another  made  a  grand 
speech;  the  brass  band  made  a  great  deal  of  noise,  and  the 
"milintary,"  as  Sophie  called  the  soldiers,  "hurrahed"  and 
thumped  the  floor  with  their  muskets.  Then  they  had  a  grand 
parade.  Everybody  said  it  was  splendid,  and  even  the  chil- 
dren caught  the  spirit  of  the  day. 

"Let  us  have  a  Fourf  o' July  celebration!"  said  Sophie. 

"Good!"  cried  Hal.  "Fred  and  I  can  beat  our  drums,  and 
Eva  can  blow  her  horn.     That  will  be  the  band." 

"Yes,"  said  Sophie,  "that  will  be  fine!  And  you  must  make 
the  speech,  too,  Hal." 

"Who'll  read  the  Declaration,  then?"  asked  Hal. 

"Why,  I  will;  while  Marie  can  be  the  aujence." 

"What's  that?"  asked  Hal. 

"Why,  the  aujence  is  the  people,  who  come  to  hear  and  see." 

"Ah,  yes!  And  she'll  be  a  very  pretty  aujence,  too!  Here 
goes!  "  and  Hal  beat  his  drum  with  all  his  might.  Fred  did  the 
same,  while  little  Eva  blew  several  loud  blasts  on  her  tin 
trumpet.  With  a  piece  of  music  in  her  hand  Sophie  read  the 
Declaration  of  Independence,  and  this  was  what  she  said: 

"  Of  course  human  events  made  it  necessary  for  us  to  be  free. 
And  we  want  to  tell  all  the  world  so,  and  let  everybody  know 
what  a  great  people  we  ai'c." 

"Hurrah!  hurrah! "  shouted  Hal.  "Now  for  some  music!" 
and  the  way  he  did  beat  his  drum!  You  would  have  thought 
he  tried  to  burst  it.  Fred  did  the  same,  and  Eva's  eyes  almost 
popped  out  of  her  head,  she  blew  her  trumpet  so  hard. 

"Stop  your  music,  and  let  me  read  on!"  cried  Sophie.  "I 
can't  hear  my  own  voice." 

"  Music  is  better  celebration  than  reading,"  cried  Hal,  and  he 
made  more  noise  than  ever. 

"Stop,  I  say!"  exclaimed  Sophie,  stamping~he<  feet  until 
both  of  her  stockings  slipped  down  to  her  ankles.  But  the 
drums  kept  on  beating,  and  the  trumpet  kept  on  blowing. 

Sweet  little  Marie,  who  stood  looking  on*  calmly,  with  her 
hands  behind  her  back,  at  last  said- 


66  CHILDREN'S  HOUR. 

"You  all  make  so  much  noise  that  I  mean  to  show  my  inde- 
pendence by  leaving.     Good-bye! " 

Away  she  went,  and  that  broke  up  the  Fourth  of  July  cele- 
bration. 

CQamma's  Baddish  Boy. 

Cutting  steamships  on  the  chair, 
Cutting  off  the  dolly's  hair, 
Cutting  papers  on  the  stair, 
Cutting  capers  everywhere — 
That's  Willie. 

Making  doggies  on  the  wall, 
Making  mud-pies  in  the  hall, 
Making  horse-lines  of  my  shawl, 
Making  trouble  for  us  all — 
That's  Willie. 

Hammering  upon  the  floor, 
Shouting  till  his  throat  is  sore, 
Making  all  youth's  batteries  roar. 
All  this  and  even  more — 
That's  Willie. 

Soiling  all  his  finest  clothes. 
Stubbing  out  his  French  kid  toes. 
Dirty  cheeks  and  dirty  nose. 
Caring  little  how  he  goes — 
That's  WiUie. 

Ah!  my  heart  is  sore  and  sad, 
Thinking  of  my  naughty  lad. 
Other  mammas  never  had, 
Never  had  a  boy  so  bad 
As  Willie. 

But  when  cuddled  down  to  sleep, 
And  his  arms  around  me  creep, 
Asking  God  his  soul  to  keep, 
Then  in  tender  love  I  weep. 
Then  I  know  I  hold  too  cheap 
My  precious  Willie. 


the  story  of  the  doll  that  spoke.    57 
6hb  Stoi^y  op  the  Doll  thaii  Spoils. 

In  one  of  the  fairest  provinces  of  the  East  there  lived  a  mer- 
chant. He  had  a  lovely  wife  and  a  beautiful  daughter.  The 
wife  was  suddenly  taken  ill,  and  the  doctor  told  her  that  she 
must  die. 

She  called  her  little  daughter  to  her  bedside,  and  said: 

"  Vasilissa,  I  am  going  away.  I  give  you  my  blessing;  may 
it  protect  you  in  the  hour  of  evil.  With  my  blessing  I  leave 
you  this  doll.  Keep  it  always  with  you,  and  never  let  any  one 
see  it.  It  is  a  wonderful  doll.  It  can  speak.  Whenever  any 
misfortune  comes  upon  you,  give  it  food  to  eat,  and  ask  its  ad- 
vice. When  it  has  fed  it  will  tell  you  how  to  escape  from  mis- 
fortune, and  will  help  you  to  perform  any  service  you  may 
need." 

Then  the  poor  woman  kissed  her  little  girl,  and  died. 

In  time  the  merchant  married  a  widow  who  had  daughters 
of  her  own,  and  the  woman  and  her  daughters  began  to  treat 
Vasilissa  very  ill. 

Now  Vasilissa  was  the  prettiest  girl  in  the  province,  and 
many  young  men  of  noble  birth  and  character  came  to  seek  her 
hand. 

But  the  envious  step-mother  said:  "Vasilissa  shall  never 
marry  until  I  have  married  my  own  daughters.  They  are 
older  than  she,  and  it  is  not  fitting  that  the  youngest  should 
marry  first." 

Then  she  set  Vasilissa  to  do  the  work  in  the  garden  and 
kitchen,  hoping  she  would  become  tanned  by  the  sun  and  wind, 
and  would  lose  her  queenly  grace  by  drudgery. 

But  whenever  she  was  left  alone,  Vasilissa  would  take  the 
beautiful  doll  from  her  pocket,  and  say, 

"Little  dolly,  feed! 
Help  me  in  my  need!" 

Then  the  doll  would  eat  and  comfort  Vasilissa,  and  perform  for 
her  all  the  work  she  had  been  set  to  do.  She  would  weed  the 
garden  while  Vasilissa  sat  in  the  cool  shade  of  the  trees;  she 
would  wash  the  dishes  while  Vasilissa  listened  to  the  birds  that 
came  to  sing  to  her  in  the  rose  bushes  by  the  lattice. 

One  summer  the  merchant  must  needs  2:0  to  foreisrn  lands. 


58  CHILDREN'S  HOUR. 

He  removed  his  family  to  a  summer-house  in  a  great  forest,  and' 
left  them  there.  Here,  as  elsewhere,  Vasilissa  was  set  to  do 
the  hard  work;  but  the  doll  helped  her,  and  she  always  looked 
like  a  beautiful  lady,  and  not  like  a  slave. 

Now,  in  the  forest,  not  far  from  where  the  merchant's  family 
lived,  there  was  a  lonely  hut,  and  in  it  lived  a  very  wicked  old 
woman,  whom  all  persons  shunned  and  feared.  It  was  said 
that  many  people  who  had  gone  to  visit  her  from  time  to  time 
were  never  seen  again,  nor  did  any  searching  of  the  foresters 
reveal  what  had  become  of  them. 

The  jealous  step-mother  ordered  Vasilissa  several  times  to  go 
to  the  hut  of  the  wicked  old  woman  and  borrow  things  of 
which  there  was  need  in  the  kitchen. 

But  Vasilissa  did  nothing  without  consulting  the  doll.  And 
as  often  as  she  said, 

"Feed,  dolly,  feed! 
Help  me  in  my  need!" 

and  asked  if  she  should  go  to  the  hut  of  the  old  woman  to  bor- 
row, the  doll  replied,  "  Do  not  go;  the  woman  is  a  Baba  Yaga! " 

Now,  a  Baba  Yaga  means  a  scolding  old  woman,  a  fault- 
finder; but  it  was  also  applied  to  dangei'ous  people  who  are 
suspected  of  destroying  life. 

Autumn  came.  The  leaves  turned  crimson,  gold,  and  russet,, 
and  the  wind  rustled  mournfully  among  them  at  evening,  and 
the  forests  began  to  lose  their  bird  songs,  and  to  be  dreary  and 
lone.     The  weather  grew  cold,  and  the  evenings  long. 

One  day  the  fire  went  out  in  the  house  towards  evening. 

"  Never  mind,"  said  the  merchant's  wife,  "  we  have  still  a 
lighted  candle,  and  before  that  burns  down  we  will  rekindle 
the  fire.': 

She  set  her  daughters  and  step-daughter  to  work — one  of 
them  to  making  lace,  one  to  knitting  socks,  and  Vasilissa  to 
weaving.     Then  she  fell  asleep  in  her  chair. 

At  last  the  candle  needed  snuffing,  and  one  of  the  girls  took 
the  snuffers,  and,  thinking  to  do  the  work  thoroughly,  snuffed 
out  the  candle. 

The  meixhant's  wife  awoke. 

"What  have  you  done?"  said  she. 

"  Snuffed  out  the  light,"  said  one  of  the  girls. 


THE  STORY  OF  THE  DOLL  THAT  SPOKE.      69 

''  What  are  we  to  do?"  said  she.  "  We  have  no  light  nor  fire. 
We  must  send  to  the  Baba  Yaga  for  a  light." 

"My  pins  give  me  light  enough,"  said  the  lace-maker.  "Let 
Vasilissa  go." 

"My  knitting-needles  give  me  light  enough,"  said  the  other 
daughter.     "  Let  Vasilissa  go." 

"Vasilissa,"  said  the  mother,  "go  to  the  Baba  Yaga's  and 
borrow  a  light." 

Vasilissa  went  to  her  room  in  the  dark  and  gave  the  doll  some 
food. 

"Feed,  dolly,  feed! 
Help  me  in  my  need!" 

Then  the  doll  said,  "Go  to  the  Baba  Yaga's;  I  will  protect 
you." 

Out  into  the  cold,  under  the  light  of  the  round  moon,  went 
Vasilissa  to  the  Baba  Yaga's. 

The  way  was  long  and  dreary;  but  at  last  she  saw  under  the 
branches  of  some  tall  trees  the  light  in  the  hut  of  the  Baba 
Yaga. 

She  went  to  the  door  and  knocked. 

"Faugh!  faugh!  who  is  there?" 

"  It  is  I,  granny.  My  step-mother  has  sent  me  to  borrow  a 
light." 

"  I  know  her  well.     Come  in." 

She  went  in  and  found  the  Baba  Yaga  sifting  poppy-seed 
through  her  fingers,  clearing  it  from  dirt,  grain  by  grain. 

"It  is  slow  work,  granny,"  said  Vasilissa.  "It  must  take  a 
long  time  to  sift  a  measure  full.  If  you  will  get  me  a,  light  I 
will  help  you." 

The  old  woman  went  into  another  room  as  if  for  a  light  and 
a  lantern. 

Then  Vasilissa  said, 

"Feed,  dolly,  feed! 
Help  me  in  my  need!" 

And  she  gave  the  doll  a  bit  of  cake,  and  in  a  twinkling  all  the 
poppy-seed  was  sifted  and  changed  from  one  measure  to  the 
other. 

Presently  the  Baba  Yaga  said,  "  Little  maiden,  come  here  and 
,  see  what  you  will  see." 


60  CHILDREN'S  HOUR. 

Then  the  doll  said,  "  Stay  where  you  are." 

"No,  granny,  come  here;  I  have  sifted  the  seed.'* 

The  Baba  Yaga  came  back,  looking  very  fierce. 

"How  did  you  sift  the  seed  so  quickly?" 

"  I  do  all  my  work  quickly." 

"How?" 

"  My  mother's  blessing  assists  me." 

"Have  you  been  blessed?" 

"Yes;  my  mother  blessed  me,  when  dying,  in  the  name  of 
God." 

"Then  I  cannot  harm  you.  This  is  no  place  for  blessed 
people.  Here  is  a  lantern;  go,  go,  and  never  come  here 
again!" 

As  Vasilissa  was  returning  with  the  light,  she  met  the  prince 
of  the  country.  As  soon  as  he  saw  her  he  fell  in  love  with  her, 
and  took  her  to  the  royal  palace  and  married  her.  She  made  a 
good  queen,  and  one  greatly  beloved,  because  she  always,  in 
trouble,  consulted  the  doll,  which  she  carried  in  her  pocket. 
The  prince  called  her  Vasilissa  the  Fair;  and  her  life  was  as 
beautifully  crowned  with  graces  as  her  head  with  the  jewels  of 
the  diadem. 

St.  Higholas,  oi^  Santa  (^laus. 

The  patron  saint  of  boys.  He  is  said  to  have  been  bishop  of 
Myra,  and  to  have  died  in  the  year  326.  The  young  were  uni- 
versally taught  to  revere  him,  and  the  popular  fiction,  which 
represents  him  as  the  bearer  of  presents  to  children  on  Christ- 
mas-eve, is  well  known.  He  is  the  Santa  Claus  (or  Klaus)  of 
the  Dutch. 

St.  Nicholas  is  said  to  have  supplied  three  destitute  maidens 
with  marriage  portions  by  secretly  leaving  money  at  their  win- 
dow, and  as  his  day  occurred  just  before  Christmas,  he  thus  was 
made  the  purveyor  of  the  gifts  of  the  season  to  all  children  in 
Flanders  and  Holland,  who  put  out  their  shoes  or  stockings  in 
the  confidence  that  Santa  Klaus,  or  Kneckt  Clobes,  as  they  call 
him,  will  put  in  a  prize  for  good  conduct  before  morning. 

Another  legend  described  the  saint  as  having  brought  three 
children  to  life  again,  and  this  rendered  him  the  patron  of  boys, 
especially  school-boys. 


OUTHS'  -^  DEPARTMENT. 

yOUNG   flMEI^IGAN   Gl^IT. 


BY  W.  W.  BREESE. 


T  is  certainly  characteristic  of  the  "  Young 
America  "  of  our  day  to  do  whatever  he  does 
with  all  his  might.  Sometimes  he  does  him- 
self and  others  a  vast  deal  of  harm  by  this 
method;  but  if  he  has  only  taken  hold  of  the  right 
thing,  in  the  right  way,  he  is  tolerably  sure  of  success. 
The  great  weakness  of  young  men  in  this  countr}' 
is  that  they  do  not  take  time  enough  to  learn  thor- 
oughly to  do  what  they  undertake.  The  fact  is,  they 
have  too  much  confidence  in  the  magic  power  of 
energy,  or,  in  other  words,  of  "Grit."  Alas!  that 
they  cannot,  one  and  all,  understand  that  care,  pains- 
taking, close  application,  hard  study,  are  all  needed  to 
make  any  business  or  profession  a  success.  Occasion- 
ally a  genius  may  arise  of  such  wonderful  capabilities 
that  he  can  accomplish  what  he  undertakes  withoGt 
the  worry  and  vexation  of  "taking  care"  for  any 
thing.  But  when  you  find  one  such,  there  are  a  thou- 
sand who  learn  sooner  or  later  the  necessity  of  heed- 
ing old  Davy  Crockett's  injunction,  "  Be  sure  you're 
right,  then  go  ahead!" 

(61) 


€2  YOUTHS'  DEPARTMENT. 

A  very  valuable  motto  for  the  young  men  and  young 
women  of  this  day  is  to  be  found  in  these  words:  "Do 
not  despise  the  day  of  Little  Things!  " 

The  great  Benjamin  FrankHn,  who  stands  out  well 
as  the  typical  "Young  America"  of  his  times,  says: 
"  Take  care  of  the  pennies,  and  the  pounds  will  take 
care  ■  of  themselves!"  But  it  is  not  many  of  our 
bright,  capable  young  men  or  women  who  realize  all 
there  is  in  these  words  :  "O  pshaw!  it's  only  a  trifle. 
What  is  the  use  of  minding  such  Httle  things?" 

Trifles  make  up  the  greater  portion  of  this  life,  and 
the  caring  for  trifles,  or  despising  them,  makes  all  the 
difference  between  success  and  failure,  the  greater 
degree  in  each  case  depending  upon  the  complete- 
ness of  regard  or  disregard  on  the  part  of  the  per- 
son. Therefore,  as  a  fundamental  trait  in  the  success- 
ful life,  we  bid  you  cultivate  a  habit  of  close  observation 
in  all  the  details  of  life. 

A  good  story  is  told  of  a  great  Eastern  Prince,  who 
was  marching  victoriously  home,  and  in  crossing  the 
river  Euphrates  he  discovered  the  true  Philosopher's 
Stone.  One  of  the  iron  shoes,  worn  by  an  elephant, 
w^as  turned  into  gold!  .  He  immediately  stopped  his 
army,  dug  a  canal,  turned  the  river  out  of  its  natural 
channel,  and  began  his  search.  Each  soldier  was  pro- 
vided with  an  iron  tool,  and  commanded  to  touch  each 
stone  he  picked  up  in  the  river-bed  to  this  iron,  and 
then,  if  it  did  not  turn  to  gold,  to  throw  it  behind  him. 
Day  after  day  the  search  continued,  until  one  of  the  sol- 
diers found  the  stone.  But  alas!  so  mechanical  was  his 
labor,  that  he  had  not  noticed  his  shovel  turning  into 
gold  until  he  had  flung  the  stone  behind  him,  and  no 
amount  of  search  ever  revealed  the  spot  where  it  fell. 


YOUNG  AMERICAN  GRIT.  68 

"  Tall  oaks  from  little  acorns  grow,"  and  a  little  op- 
portunity often  comes  to  a  man,  which,  if  he  have  the 
good  sense  to  use  it,  will  make  his  fortune.  A.  T. 
Stewart,  the  greatest  of  America's  merchant  princes, 
lent* a  small  shop-keeper  some  money;  but  the  man 
got  sick  of  his  business,  and  to  save  what  was  already 
invested,  Stewart  took  the  business  out  of  the  man's 
hands,  who  was  only  too  glad  to  get  rid  of  it  thus. 
This  was  the  beginning  of  Stewart's  remarkable  ca- 
reer as  a  merchant.  This  also  well  illustrates  the 
maxim,  "  There's  a  tide  in  the  affairs  of  men,  which, 
taken  at  the  flood,  leads  on  to  victory." 

One  of  the  grand  secrets  of  success  in  life  is  em- 
bodied in  a  firm  resolution  to  keep  your  promise.  But 
this  is  one  of  the  weakest  points  in  American  charac- 
ter.    Do  you  want  to  so  live  that  you  may, 

"  Departing,  leave  behind  you 
Footprints  on  the  sands  of  time?" 

Then  we  charge  you  fix  this  as  an  undying  principle 
in  your  heart,  and  never  allow  yourself  to  swerve 
from  it.  How  many  people  there  are  who  make  a 
promise,  sign  their  names,  perhaps  to  a  subscription, 
charitable  or  otherwise,  and  then  deliberately  repudi- 
ate their  obligation  without  the  shadow  of  an  excuse, 
or  with  one  so  flimsy  that  they  shame  the  devil  in 
offering  it! 

Let  us  consider  another  matter,  about  which  the 
youth  of  our  land  are  often  much  wiser  than  their 
elders.  It  is  not  best  for  all  young  men  to  go  through 
college.  Some  are  spoiled  by  the  study  of  books, 
who  would  have  been  finely  educated  had  they  been 
put  to  business;  for  there  is  an  educational  power  in 


64  YOUTHS'  DEPARTMENT. 

business,  as  conducted  nowadays,  that  is  perfectly 
wonderful,  and  by  no  means  to  be  despised.  Many, 
seeing  this  fact,  discredit  the  value  of  literary  training, 
and  account  it  a  waste  of  time  for  a  young  man  to 
spend  three  or  four  years  at  college.  This,  however, 
is  a  great  mistake,  and  if  carried  to  its  full  results, 
would  do  immense  harm  to  future  society.  Let  young 
men  go  to  college.  All  who  have  a  thirst  for  letters 
should  be  sent,  where  parents  are  able  to  do  so;  and 
where  they  are  not,  the  young  men  would  do  well  to 
go  in  debt  for  the  sake  of  the  advantages  of  college 
life  and  training,  and  pay  for  it  after  graduation.  But 
there  is  really  no  need  for  any  young  man,  worthy  to 
be  intrusted  with  a  liberal  education,  to  go  in  debt. 
There  is  plenty  of  paying  work  waiting  for  every 
young  man,  and  woman,  too,  in  our  land,  by  which, 
with  patience,  an  education  can  be  earned  as  he  goes 
along.  There  are  thousands  of  our  leading  American 
citizens  who  paid  their  own  way  through  college  by 
hard  v^ork  during  vacations,  and  who  never  received 
a  dollar  from  friends  to  aid  them.  Most  of  these 
made  their  money  by  traveling  as  canvassing  agents 
for  some  useful  article  or  other.  It  requires  very  Httle 
capital,  develops  self-reliance,  furnishes  an  educated 
knowledge  of  human  nature,  and  in  itself  becomes  an 
education  of  as  great  use  as  a  knowledge  of  books 
gained  in  college. 

In  closing  this  article,  we  can  do  no  better  than  rec- 
ommend to  you  the  maxims  of  the  greatest  banker 
the  world  has  ever  known;  and  although  not  an  Amer- 
ican, he  exempHfies  all  the  noble  traits  of  character 
which  we  fain  would  see  ingrafted  into  the  lives  of 
our  young  fellow-countrymen.    Baron  Rothschild  had 


NOT  ABOVE  WORK.  65 

the  following  maxims  framed  and  hung  up  in  his  bank- 
ing-house: 

Attend  carefully  to  the  details  of  your  business. 
Be  prompt  in  all  things. 
Consider  well,  then  decide  positively. 
Dare  to  do  right.     Fear  to  do  wrong. 
Endure  trials  patiently. 
Fight  life's  battles  bravely,  manfully. 
Go  not  into  the  society  of  the  vicious. 
Hold  integrity  sacred. 

Injure  not  another's  reputation  or  business. 
Join  hands  only  with  the  virtuous. 
Keep  your  mind  from  evil  thoughts. 
Lie  not  for  any  consideration. 
Make  few  acquaintances. 
Never  try  to  appear  what  you  are  not. 
Observe  good  manners. 
Pay  your  debts  promptly. 
Question  not  the  veracity  of  a  friend. 
Respect  the  counsel  of  your  parents. 
Sacrifice  money  rather  than  principle. 
Touch  not,  taste  not,  handle  not  intoxicating  drinks. 
Use  your  leisure  time  for  improvement. 
Venture  not  upon  the  threshold  of  wrong. 
Watch  carefully  over  your  passions. 
Extend  to  every  one  a  kindly  salutation. 
•    Yield  not  to  discouragements. 
Zealously  labor  for  the  right. 
Success  is  yours. 

Uom  fiBOYB  ^OI^I^. 

"  Never  be  ashamed  of  your  business,"  is  a  wholesome  prov- 
erb. If  one  has  an  honest  business,  he  need  not  feel  ashamed 
of  it.  Some  young  persons  act  as  if  they  thought  many  kinds 
of  honest  toil  menial  and  degrading.     But  they  are  wrong. 

"Man  hath  his  daily  work  of  body  and  njind 
Appointed,  which  declares  his  dignity." 

When  the  service  is  for  the  good  of  man  or  the  glory  of  God, 
5 


66  YOUTHS'  DEPARTMENT. 

and  is  performed  in  the  right  spirit,  it  must  ever  be  ennobling. 
It  is  the  work  'we  do  in  an  unwilHng,  slavish  spirit,  that  de- 
grades us.  Toil  is  manly,  even  if  it  be  that  of  a  boot-black, 
"  If  I  were  a  boot-black,"  said  a  noble  Christian  man,  "  I  would 
strive  to  be  the  best  boot-black  in  the  world."  The  lad  who 
determines  to  do  his  best  every-where,  in  every  place,  however 
lowly,  where  honest  work  is  needed,  will  soonest  rise  to  honor. 

"If  little  labor,  little  are  our  gains: 
Man's  fortunes  are  according  to  his  pains." 

Not  long  since  a  young  man  was  asked  to  carry  a  small  pack- 
age of  written  paper  to  his  sick  relative,  but  he  turned  up  his 
nose  with  the  answer,  "No  you  don't,  now;  send  it  by  an  ex- 
pressman." 

One  evening,  near  the  hour  for  closing  a  store  in  Philadel- 
phia, a  bundle  of  prints  was  ordered  in  haste  by  a  house  not' 
more  than  a  block  distant.  The  carts  and  porters  had  gone. 
The  merchant  requested  one  of  his  young  men  to  deliver  the 
bundle,  but  as  he  did  so  he  perceived  a  look  of  disgust  in  the 
clerk's  face,  and  without  saying  another  word  he  turned  to  his 
desk,  put  on  his  hat,  picked  up  the  bundle,  and  walked  off  to 
deliver  it  himself,  leaving  his  proud  clerk  dumb  with  mortifica- 
tion as  well  as  with  fear  of  losing  a  good  position. 

There  are  some  city-bred  boys  who  act  as  if  they  were  "  above 
carrying  a  market-basket  home."  Even  when  mother  is  bear- 
ing a  heavy  load  for  their  sakes,  they  think  it  "  degrading  "  to 
be  seen  doing  such  service.  They  soon  get  too  big  to  wait  on 
themselves.  They  grow  up  to  be  of  less  use  in  the  world  than 
butterflies. 

She  Impoi^jfangb  of  QJbll-spentp  yoUTH.    ^ 

As  the  beauty  of  summer,  the  fruitfulness  of  autumn,  and  the 
support  of  winter,  depend  upon  spring;  so  the  happiness,  wis- 
dom, and  piety  of  middle-life  and  old  age  depend  upon  youth. 
Youth  is  the  seed-time  of  life. 

If  the  farmer  does  not  plow  his  land,  and  commit  the  precious 
seed  to  the  ground  in  spring,  it  will  be  too  late  afterward;  so  if 
we,  while  young,  neglect  to  cultivate  our  hearts  and  minds  by 
not  sowing  the  seeds  of  knowledge  and  virtue,  our  future  lives 
will  be  ignorant,  vicious,  and  wretched.     "The  sluggard  will 


BOYS,  MEAD  AND  HEED  THIS.  67 

not  plow  by  reason  of  the  cold;  he,  therefore,  shall  beg  in  har- 
vest, and  have  nothing." 

The  soil  of  the  human  heart  is  naturally  barren  of  every  thing 
good,  though  prolific  of  evil.  If  corn,  flowers,  or  trees,  be  not 
planted,  and  carefully  cultivated,  nettles  and  brambles  will 
spring  up;  and  the  mind,  if  not  cultivated  and  stored  with  use- 
ful knowledge,  will  become  a  barren  desert  or  a  thorny  wilder- 
ness. 

As  the  spring  is  the  most  important  part  of  the  year,  so  is 
youth  the  most  important  period  of  life.  Surely,  God  has  a 
claim  to  our  first  and  principal  attention,  and  religion  demands 
the  morning  of  our  days,  and  the  first  season,  the  spring  of  our 
lives:  before  we  are  encumbered  by  cares,  distressed  by  afflic- 
tions, or  engaged  in  business,  it  becomes  us  to  resign  our  souls 
to  God. 

Perhaps  you  may  live  for  many  years;  then  you  will  be  happy 
in  possessing  knowledge  and  piety,  and  be  enabled  to  do  good 
to  others.  But  if,  just  as  youth  is  showing  its  buds  and  blos- 
soms, the  flower  should  be  snapped  from  its  stalk  by  the  rude 
hand  of  death,  O  how  important  that  it  shoul'd  be  transplanted 
from  earth  to  flourish  forever  at  the  foot  of  the  tree  of  life,  and 
beside  the  waters  of  the  river  of  life  in  heaven! 

Boys,  FJbad  and  F^bbd  ©his. 

Many  people  seem  to  forget  that  character  grows;  that  it  is  not 
something  to  put  on  ready-made  with  womanhood  or  manhood; 
but  day  by  day,  here  a  little  and  there  a  little,  grows  with  the 
growth,  and  strengthens  with  the  strength,  until,  good  or  bad, 
it  becomes  almost  a  coat  of  mail.  Look  at  a  man  of  business- 
prompt,  reliable,  conscientious,  yet  clear-headed  and  energetic. 
When  do  you  suppose  he  developed  all  those  admirable  quali- 
ties? When  he  was  a  boy?  Let  us  see  how  a  boy  of  ten  years 
gets  up  in  the  morning,  works,  plays,  studies,  and  we  will  tell 
you  just  w^hat  kind  of  a  man  he  will  make.  The  boy  that  is 
too  late  at  breakfast,  late  at  school,  stands  a  poor  chance  to  be  a 
prompt  man.  The  boy  who  neglects  his  duties,  be  they  ever  so 
small,  and  then  excuses  himself  by  saying,  "I  forgot!  I  didn't 
think!"  will  never  be  a  reliable  man;  and  the  boy  who  finds 
pleasure  in  the  sufferings  of  weaker  things  will  never  be  a 
noble,  generous,  kind  man — a  gentleman. 


68  YOUTHS'  DEPARTMENT. 

lilPB   CQEANS    r^AI^D  ^OI^I^. 


BY  ROBERT  COLLIER. 


Remember  that  with  health  and  strength  to  back  you,  hfe 
means  hard  work;  and  hard,  work  on  long  lines,  with  native 
ability  and  good  conduct,  means  success.  I  will  venture  to  say 
that  this,  as  a  rule,  we  can  trust  is  always  the  story  of  the  young 
man  who  begins  life  with  no  advantage  of  position  or  patronage, 
and  makes  his  way  to  a  good  place.  He  gives  his  heart  to  what 
he  has  to  do — not  half  the  time,  but  all  the  time;  not  grudg- 
ing, but  gladly;  and  not  merely  for  the  sake  of  a  salary,  but  be- 
cause he  loves  to  be  at  it,  and  makes  the  work  in  good  measure 
its  own  reward.  It  shall  come  to  pass,  if  you  take  hold  like 
this,  that  men  will  say  you  have  a  genius  for  what  you  take  in 
hand.  But  you  well  know  that  one  of  the  fine  qualities  in  a 
genius  for  any  thing  is  an  absorbing  love  for  it,  and  the  power 
of  intense  application,  by  which  every  other  power  is  set  to  its 
finest  edge,  and  directed  to  the  one  great  purpose  the  man  holds 
in  his  heart  and  "brain.  You  may  set  this  truth  in  whatever 
light  you  will — of  business,  or  work  on  the  common  levels,  or 
work  on  the  loftiest  heights — to  give  your  heart  to  it  is  one  of 
the  grandest  secrets  of  success.  It  might  seem  to  you  that  a 
great  many  men  go  from  the  bottom  to  the  top  of  the  ladder  at 
one  jump.  It  is  not  true.  It  is  never  true.  And  all  the  men 
I  know  who  have  made  a  real  success  of  their  lives  are  hard 
climbers. 

If  I  Only  I^ad  (sapital. 

"If  I  only  had  capital,"  we  heard  a  young  man  say,  as  he 
puffed  away  at  a  ten-cent  cigar,  "  I  would  do  something." 

"If  I  only  had  capital,"  said  another,  as  he  walked  away 
from  a  dram-shop,  where  he  had  _pist  paid  ten  cents  for  a  drink, 
"  I  would  go  into  business."  * 

The  same  remark  might  have  been  heard  from  the  young 
man  loafing  on  the  street-corner.  Young  man  with  a  cigar, 
you  are  smoking  away  your  capital.  You  from  the  dram-shop 
are  drinking  yours,  and  destroying  your  body  at  the  same  time; 
and  you  upon  the  street-corner  are  wasting  yours  in  idleness, 
.and  forming  bad  habits.     Dimes  make  dollars.     Time  is  money. 


PERFECT  IN  LITTLE  THINGS.  69 

Do  not  wait  for  a  fortune  to  begin  with.  If  you  had  ten  thou- 
sand dollars  a  year,  and  spent  it  all,  you  would  he  poor  still. 
Our  men  of  power  and  influence  did  not  start  with  fortunes. 
You,  too,  can  make  your  mark,  if  you  will.  But  you  must  stop 
spending  your  money  for  what  you  do  not  need,  and  cease 
squandering  your  time  in  idleness. 

^BI^PBGT   IN    LlITTLB   ©KINGS. 

Doubtless  many  boys  are  tired  of  the  story  about  the  boy  who 
began  life  with  twenty-five  cents,  and  who,  by  forming  the 
habit  of  attending  to  details,  grew  up  to  be  a  rich  merchant. 
Yet,  sneer  as  they  may  at  the  old  saying,  "Perfection  in  little 
things  means  success  in  great  things,"  yet  its  truthfulness  is  at- 
tested by  scores  of  facts.  The  following  curious  little  incident 
shows  that  carrying  one's  conscience  into  the  little  things^  of 
every-day  work  may  sometimes  turn  accidents  into  helps: 

Two  years  ago,  a  young  man  living  in  a  Vermont  village, 
having  finished  his  academical  education,  was  ready  to  enter 
college.  But  just  before  the  day  appointed  for  his  examination 
he  was  taken  ill.  After  several  weeks  of  suffering  he  slowly 
recovered  his  health,  but  discovered  that  his  mind  had  lost  the 
knowledge  acquired  by  six  years  of  hard  study.  Latin,  Greek, 
and  Mathematics,  all  were  gone,  and  his  mind  was  a  blank  in 
respect  to  his  preparatory  studies.  His  doctor  prescribed  that 
he  should  rest  his  mind,  and  familiarize  himself  with  the  simple 
details  of  light  work. 

He  obeyed  the  advice,  and  found,  in  his  old  habit  of  doing 
little  things  carefully,  the  schoolmaster  that  brought  ,back  his 
old  knowledge. 

Before  his  illness  the  young  man,  in  order  to  earn  a  little 
money,  had  taken  care  of  the  village  church,  sweeping  it  out, 
cleaning  the  lamps,  and  doing  all  the  work  of  a  sexton.  He 
now  resumed  this  work,  and  by  the  physician's  advice  tried  to 
keep  his  mind  from  puzzling  itself  about  its  loss  of  memory. 
Several  weeks  went  by  without  bringing  any  change  in  his 
mental  condition. 

One  Sunday  evening  a  stranger  entered  the  church,  and,  as 
the  sermon  ,was  a  dull  one,  gazed  carelessly  around,  until  his 
attention  was  attracted  by  the  lamps  on  the  wall.     He  noticed 


70  YOUTHS'  DEPARTMENT. 

that  all  the  wicks  were  so  carefully  trimmed  that  there  was  not 
an  irregular  flame  to  be  seen.  He  wondered  as  to  who  could 
be  the  careful  sexton,  and  happening  to  be  in  the  place  the  fol- 
lowing Sunday,  he  again  noticed  the  same  uniform  trimming 
of  the  wicks. 

Passing  the  church  the  next  day,  and  seeing  the  door  open, 
he  walked  quietly  in,  and  saw  the  young  sexton  sweeping  out 
the  central  aisle.  Looking  closely  at  the  young  man,  the 
stranger  asked,  "Do 'you  do  all  the  work  about  the  church?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"Do  you  trim  the  lamps?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"Why  do  you  trim  them  in  such  a  peculiar  way?" 

"  I  don't  know  what  you  mean." 

"  Why,  the  flames  are  all  alike." 

"O!  But  they  ought  to  be.  You  would  not  have  them  un- 
even, would  you?" 

"  No,"  answered  the  stranger  with  a  smile.  "  But  it  speaks 
well  for  your  carefulness.  Why,  I  should  think  one  of  the 
flames  would  fit  all  the  others  exactly  if  it  were  superimposed 
on  them." 

" '  Superimposed!'     Isn't  that  word  used  in  geometry?" 

"  Certainly.     If  polygons,  having  equal  sides  and  angles  " — 

Before  the  stranger  could  finish  his  sentence  the  student 
threw  down  his  broom,  rushed  frantically  out  of  the  church, 
ran  across  the  street  and  into  his  house,  where  he  astonished 
his  mother  by  exclaiming,  in  tones  of  triumph,  "Mother,  I 
know  that  .the  square  of  the  hypothenuse  of  a  right-angled 
triangle  is  equal  to  the  sum  of  the  squares  of  the  other  two 
sides!" 

In  a  moment  his  school  knowledge  had  come  back  to  him, 
flashed  into  his  mind  by  the  mention  of  the  superimposed 
figures.  It  is  more  than  doubtful  if  a  long  course  of  medical 
treatment  would  have  accomplished  what  the  stranger's  word 
did.  Nor  would  the  young  man  have  met  the  stranger  had  he 
not  been  in  the  habit  of  doing  little  things  with  conscientious 
care. 

Whatever  you  are  undertaking  to  do,  do  it  with  all  your 
strength. 


THE  MOSS- COVERED  BUCKET.  71 

She   fflOSS-GOYBI^ED   BUGI^ET. 


BY  SAMUEL  WOODWORTIL 


How  dear  to  my  heart  are  the  scenes  of  my  childhood, 

When  fond  recollection  presents  them  to  view! 
The  orchard,  the  meadow,  the  deep-tangled  wildwood. 

And  every  loved  spot  which  my  infancy  knew; 
The  wide-spreading  pond,  and  the  mill  that  stood  by  it; 

The  bridge  and  the  rock  where  the  cataract  fell; 
The  cot  of  my  father,  the  dairy-house  nigh  it, 

And  even  the  rude  bucket  which  hung  in  the  well! 
The  old  oaken  bucket,  the  iron-bound  bucket. 

The  moss-covered  bucket,  which  hung  in  the  well. 

That  moss-covered  vessel  I  hail  as  a  treasure; 

For  often,  at  noon,  when  returned  from  the  field, 
I  found  it  the  source  of  an  exquisite  pleasure, 

The  purest  and  sweetest  that  nature  can  yield. 
How  ardent  I  seized  it,  with  hands  that  were  glowing, 

And  quick  to  the  white-pebbled  bottom  it  fell; 
Then  soon,  with  the  emblem  of  truth  overflowing. 

And  dripping  with  coolness,  it  rose  from  the  well: 
The  old  oaken  bucket,  the  iron-bound  bucket, 

The  moss-covered  bucket  arose  from  the  well. 

How  sweet  from  the  green  mossy  brim  to  receive  it. 

As,  poised  on  the  curb,  it  inclined  to  my  lips! 
Not  a  full  blushing  goblet  could  tempt  me  to  leave  it, 

Though  filled  with  the  nectar  which  Jupiter  sips. 
And  now,  far  removed  from  thy  loved  situation. 

The  tear  of  regret  will  intrusively  swell, 
As  fancy  reverts  to  my  father's  plantation. 

And  sighs  for  the  bucket  which  hangs  in  the  well; 
The  old  oaken  bucket,  the  iron-bound  bucket, 

The  moss-covered  bucket,  which  hangs  in  the  well 

you  ^AN   SUGGEED. 

Success  is  not  easy  of  attainment;  yet  the  man  who  wishes 
success  in  any  particular  department  can  generally  have  it,  if 
he  is  able  and  willing  to  give  a  fair  equivalent  for  it. 


72  YOUTHS'  DEPARTMENT. 

^^Y,   ©I^Y  fiGAIN. 


BY  T.  H.  PALMEE. 


'Tis  a  lesson  you  should  heed, 

Try,  try  again; 
If  at  first  you  don't  succeed. 

Try,  try  again; 
Then  your  courage  should  appear, 
For,  if  you  will  persevere. 
You  will  conquer,  never  fear; 

Try,  try  again. 

Once  or  twice  though  you  should  fail, 

Try,  try  again; 
If  you  would,  at  last,  prevail, 

Try,  try  again; 
If  we  strive,  'tis  no  disgrace, 
Though  we  may  not  win  the  race; 
What  should  you  do  in  the  case? 

Try,  try  again. 

If  you  find  your  task  is  hard, 

Try,  try  again; 
Time  will  bring  you  your  reward, 

Try,  try  again; 
All  that  other  folks  can  do, 
Why,  with  patience,  should  not  you? 
Only  keep  this  rule  in  view: 

Try,  try  again. 

©AJPIENGE. 

The  man  who  knows  how  to  wait  is  master  of  the  situation. 
In  mechanics,  time  is  power.  Time  saves  friction  in  dealing 
with  men  as  with  metals.  There  is  no  department  of  human 
endeavor  in  which  patience  is  not  power. 

Galileo  had  learned  the  art  of  patience  in  giving  the  world 
the  telescope;  Watt,  in  giving  us  the  revelation  of  steam;  and 
Stephenson,  in  launching  the  locomotive  upon  its  track.  Co- 
lumbus would  never  have  unveiled  the  New  World  but  for  his 
patience;   Luther  would  never  have  christened  Protestantism 


PATIENCE.  73 

without  it,  nor  Washington  have  led  America  to  independence. 
The  late  Rebellion  met  its  doom  when  Grant  sent  from  the  field 
in  the  hottest  of  the  fight  this  memorable  dispatch:  "Five  days' 
fight  at  Spottsylvania  Court-house.  I  propose  to  fight  it  out  on 
this  line  if  it  takes  all  summer." 

As  we  would  be  rich  in  that  which  this  world  has  to  give,  we 
must  be  patient;  as  wc  would  receive  honor  from  our  fellow- 
men,  we  must  be  patient;  as  we  would  have  our  characters  en- 
riched and  mellowed,  and  our  dispositions  tempered,  we  must 
learn  the  art  and  attain  the  grace  of  patience. 

The  Creator  has  never  been  in  a  hurry.  The  geologist,  who 
in  the  beautifully  folded  leaves  of  earth  reads  the  story  of  crea- 
tion, from  the  time  when  the  thought  of  God  flashed  forth  the 
laws  by  which  all  things  are  made,  sees  no  hint  or  sign  of  sug- 
gestion that  Jehovah  was  ever  in  haste.  In  that  earth-shrined 
story  it  appears  with  marvelous  grandeur  that  with  God  "  one 
day  is  as  a  thousand  years,  and  a  thousand  years  as  one  day." 
"A  thousand  years  in  his  sight  are  but  as  yesterday  when  it  is 
past."  The  greater  man's  patience,  the  more  nearly  does  he  ap- 
proach the  image  of  his  Maker.  Patience  knits  the  character 
firmly,  giving  it  its  hickory-like  properties;  it  enables  us  to  be 
unruffled  in  temper,  unswerving  in  purpose,  unyielding  in  temp- 
tation. It  is  the  key  that  unlocks  every  gate  in  the  avenues  of 
success.  Patience  matures  faith,  gives  persistency  to  prayer, 
wins  the  blessing  of  peace.  It  is  the  soul's  ballast  when  temp- 
tations, trials,  and  vexations  threaten  to  engulf  us  in  sin.  It 
keeps  us  from  tossing  with  fear  and  anxiety,  enabling  us  to  wait 
initil  our  experiences  are  lulled  into  restful  quiet;  teaches  us  that 
it  is  the  surface  that  rolls  and  trembles — the  great  deeps  are  un- 
moved. Patience  is  the  great  reformer  of  our  disposition  and 
character.  It  is  ever  at  war  with  jealousy,  envy,  and  pride. 
It  gives  us  command  of  all  that  is  best  in  our  natures,  gives 
time  for  the  development  of  all  that  is  true  and  lovely  in  our 
character.  It  wearies  our  enemies,  and  crowns  the  battle  of 
life  with  eternal  victory. 

The  poplar  grows  from  seed  to  maturity  in  a  short  time,  and 
as  speedily  dies;  while  the  oak,  a  centuiy  in  maturing,  lives  and 
dies  at  leisure.  So  faith  that  does  not  mature  with  patience  is 
short-lived,  while  that  which  is  woven  and  toughened  by  patient 
continuance  in  well-doing  is  eternal  in  its  effects.     Islands  of 


74  YOUTHS'  DEPARTMENT. 

sand  soon  gather  and  are  sooner  washed  away,  while  the  mass- 
ive coral  islands,  whose  masonry  has  been  laid  by  the  centuries, 
will  outlast  the  continents.  Steel  suddenly  cooled  snaps  at  the 
slightest  provocation,  while  the  blade  that  is  patiently  tempered 
may  be  bent  double,  and  will  spring  back  as  straight  as  an  arrow. 
People  who  ai"e  sanctified  at  a  "jump"  can  stand  no  test,  while 
those  who  have  learned  in  patience  to  possess  their  souls  are 
like  the  Damascus  blade  in  the  elasticity  with  which  they  fly 
back  to  God  when  their  faith  is  swerved. 

We  incline  in  this  age  of  the  world  to  pray  upon  the  wing, 
ejaculating  our  petitions  as  the  bird  screams  in  her  flight.  We 
can  no  more  offer  our  best  prayers  thus  than  the  bird  can  sing 
its  sweetest  melodies  in  flight.  We  need  to  nestle  among  the 
branches  of  faith,  and  call  patiently  upon  the  Lord,  singing, 
out  of  the  fullness  of  our  heart's  love,  praises  unto  our  God. 
"  Ye  have  need  of  patience  that  after  ye  have  done  the  will  of 
God  ye  might  receive  the  promise."  "God's  delays  are  not 
denials." 

Be   ^ATIBNIP. 

There  is  an  impatience  in  many  young  people  that  causes 
them  many  failures  in  life.  They  are  ever  ready  to  kill  the 
goose  that  lays  the  golden  eg^.  They  build  air-castles  as  high 
as  the  peak  at  Etna,  and  decorate  them  with  all  the  ornaments 
their  feverish  brain  can  imagine.  They  suppose  there  is  an  easy 
road,  a  flowery  path,  that  leads  to  wealth  and  fame,  and  it  only 
remains  for  them  to  find  it.  They  wish  to  be  wise,  but  they 
cannot  spend  many  years  in  storing  their  minds  with  knowl- 
edge. They  desire  to  climb  the  hill  of  science,  but  they  expect 
to  find  some  near  and  easy  way  to  its  summit.  They  fail  to  find 
such  a  way,  and  are  often  ready  to  say,  "  I  have  not  time  nor 
money  to  spend."  They  desire  a  good  occupation,  trade,  or  pro- 
fession, and  a  high  position  in  society,  yet  they  cannot  bear  to 
spend  a  few  years  of  hard  mental  and  physical  labor  to  obtain 
it.  They  have  a  kind  of  aspiration  often  excited  by  some  self- 
ish motive.  They  have  no  system  in  their  study.  They  never 
study  one  subject  long  enough  to  understand  it.  They  often 
seem  to  have  energy  enough  for  awhile  in  one  direction,  but 
before  success  can  crown  their  eflforts  they  have  changed  to 
something  else.    They  have  no  object  in  view,  and  like  the  man 


ODD  MINUTES.  75 

that  shoots  at  random,  they  almost  invariably  miss  the  mark. 
They  seem  to  forget  that  life  is  made  up  of  little  things,  and 
the  weight  of  those  little  things  we  cannot  conceive. 

"Every  wise  observer  knows, 
Every  watchful  gazer  sees, 
Nothing  grand  or  beautiful  grows, 
Save  by  gradual,  slow  degrees." 

Youth  is  too  precious  to  spend  in  worrying  over  trifles.  Life 
is  so  short  that  no  one  has  any  right  to  throw  any  part  of  it 
away.  One's  life  does  not  belong  to  him  alone,  but  to  his  Cre- 
ator and  to  his  fellow-men;  and  it  behooves  him  to  make  the 
best  use  of  it  he  can.  It  should  be  the  object  of  eveVy  teacher 
and  parent  to  cultivate  in  the  youthful  mind  patience,  and  a  de- 
termination to  do  well  whatever  he  undertakes. 

Nearly  all  if  not  all  greatness  is  achieved  by  hard,  patient 
labor,  either  mental  or  physical.  Socrates,  Newton,  Cicero, 
Napoleon,  Franklin,  Washington,  and  most  all  other  great  men 
of  the  past,  were  noted  for  their  patience  and  resolution. 

In  the  theater  of  life  every  one  should  select  that  part  to 
which  he  is  adapted,  and  then  remember  "  the  honor  consists 
in  acting  well  his  part." 

Odd  CQiNLfJFBS. 

What  is  commonly  called  "luck"  among  men  and  boys  is 
only  a  genius  for  using  the  odd  minutes  to  advantage. 

Two  boys  were  in  a  carpenter's  shop.  One  determined  to 
make  himself  a  thorough  workman,  the  other  "didn't  care," 
One  read  and  studied,  and  got  books  that  would  help  him  to 
understand  the  principles  of  his  trade.  He  spent  his  evenings 
at  home  reading.  The  other  liked  fun  best.  He  went  off  with 
other  boys  to  have  fun. 

"Come,"  he  often  said  to  his  shopmate,  "leave  your  books; 
go  with  us.     What  is  the  use  of  all  this  reading?" 

"  If  I  waste  the  golden  moments,  I  shall  lose  what  I  can  never 
make  up,"  was  the  reply. 

While  the  two  boys  were  still  apprentices,  an  offer  of  two 
thousand  dollars  appeared  in  the  newspapers  for  the  best  plan 
for  a  State-house,  to  be  built  in  one  of  the  Eastern  States.  The 
studious  boy  saw  the  advertisement,  and  determined  to  try  for 


76  YOUTHS'  DEPARTMENT. 

it.  After  a  careful  study,  he  drew  the  plans  and  sent  them  to 
the  committee.  I  suppose  he  did  not  I'eally  expect  to  win  the 
prize,  but  there  is  nothing  like  trying. 

It  was  not  long  before  a  committee  of  gentlemen  arrived  at 
the  carpenter-shop  and  asked  if  an  architect  by  the  name  of — 
mentioning  the  boy's  name — lived  there. 

"No,"  said  the  carpenter,  "no  architect;  I  have  an  apprentice 
by  that  name." 

"  Let  us  see  him,"  said  the  committee. 

The  young  man  was  called,  and,  sure  enough,  his  plan  had 
been  accepted,  and  the  two  thousand  dollars  were  his. 

The  corpmittee  thfen  said  he  must  put  up  the  building;  and 
the  employer  was  so  proud  of  his  success  that  he  willingly  gave 
him  his  time  and  let  him  go. 

The 'Studious  carpenter's-boy  became  one  of  the  best  archi- 
tects of  our  country.  He  made  a  fortune,  and  stands  high  in 
the  esteem  of  everybody,  while  his  fellow  -  apprentice  can 
scarcely  earn,  by  his  daily  labor,  bread  for  himself  and  family. 

He  who  loses  a  moment  of  improvement  loses  the  best  be- 
ginning which  a  boy  can  make  in  it. 

P    Day   (qOO    IJAIPE. 

Not  long  ago  an  influential  man  in  London  made  the  acquaint- 
ance of  a  new  friend — a  man  singularly  interesting  and  gifted, 
but  as  singularly  unfortunate.  "Unmerciful  disaster"  seemed 
to  follow  upon  his  steps.  If  he  sought  for  a  place,  it  had  just 
been  taken;  if  he  wrote  an  article,  some  one  else  had  preceded 
him  with  one  on  the  same  subject. 

He  struggled  honestly,  bravely,  vainly,  until,  when  he  met 
Mr.  Blank,  he  was  in  the  very  depths  of  despair.  The  new 
friendship  gave  him  a  little  hope.  Mr.  Blank  liked  him,  be- 
lieved in  him,  hoped  for  him,  and  promised  to  use  his  influence 
to  help  him. 

"I'll  hold  out  as  long  as  I  can,"  said  the  poor  fellow^.  "If 
you  can  get  me  any  thing  to  do,  I'll  do  it.  If  not- — I'll  end  it  all 
I  will  not  live  to  be  a  burden  on  my  friends." 

"Nonsense I"  Mr.  Blank  said,  cheerfully.  "I'll  find  you 
something  to  do.     I'll  write  next  week." 

"You  will  write  next  week.'"'  said  the  poor  fellow,  piteously; 


THE  DIFFERENCE.  77 

and  Mr.  Blank  recalled  afterwards  a  gleam  of  wildness  in  his 
eyes, 

Mr.  Blank  went  to  work  to  find  a  place  suited  to  the  unfor- 
tunate man's  needs;  used  all  his  influence,  but,  unfortunately, 
he  did  not  fulfill  his  promise  to  write.  He  went  out  of  town  for 
a  little  visit;  he  was  not  well;  half-a-dozen  trifles  interfered,  and 
the  week  during  which  he  had  promised  a  letter  went  by  with 
no  word. 

On  the  Monday  of  the  next  week  he  sat  dining  with  his 
friend,  and  chatting  cheerfully,  as  good  friends  will.  Suddenly 
there  was  a  ring  at  the  street-door,  and  presently  a  policeman 
was  shown  in.  He  had  come  to  say  that  a  man  had  committed 
suicide  in  the  railway  station  near  by,  and  in  his  pocket  had 
been  found  a  letter  for  Mr.  Blank. 

Such  a  simple  yet  heart-breaking  letter  it  was!  ^'He  knew," 
so  he  wrote,  "  that  Mr.  Blank  was  his  best  friend,  and  he  would 
have  helped  him  if  any  one  could.  But  as  no  letter  had  come, 
he  understood  that  this,  his  last  hope,  had  failed,  and  the  end  of 
things  here  had  come,  and  there  was  nothing  for  him  but  to 
begin  again  somewhere  else.  He  did  not  wish  to  make  a  dis- 
turbance in  the  house  of  his  landlady,  and  he  had  a  weak  long- 
ing to  die  near  some  friend  ;  so  he  would  come  to  the  station 
near  Blank,  who,  he  knew,  must  have  tried  in  vain  to  help  him, 
and  so  he  would  say.  Thank  you,  and  good-bye." 

Self-murder,  yes!  but  who  shall  limit  God's  mercy  to  the  poor 
wretch  crazed  with  trouble?  Blank  felt  that  it  was  he  rather 
who  needed  a  forgiveness  for  which  he  hardly  dared  to  hope. 
The  very  next  day  came  the  news  that  the  place  for  which  he 
had  asked,  and  used  his  influence  to  obtain,  was  secured.  If 
only  he  had  written  of  his  hopes — ^but  it  was  one  day  too  late! 

©HE   DlPPBI^ENGE. 

Some  fifty  years  ago  two  young  men  began  business  in  New 
York  on  their  own  account.  One  had  served  an  apprentice- 
ship— it  was  the  proper  and  descriptive  word  in  those  days — in 
a  dry-goods  house. 

The  other  had  just  graduated  from  Yale  College,  and  was  the 
son  of  a  rich  man,  who  supplied  most  of  the  capital  on  which 
the  young  firm  ran  their  small  dry-goods  store. 


78  YOUTHS'  DEPARTMENT. 

Among  the  customers  was  an  old  peddler  from  Wheeling, 
Va.,  who,  having  become  attached  to  the  young  clerk,  had  fol- 
lowed him  into  his  own  store.  He  was  wealthy,  and  ran  a 
number  of  peddling  wagons  throughout  the  West.  But  he 
dressed  as  he  did  when  he  himself  drove  a  one-horse  peddler's 
wagon. 

The  partner  who  was  fresh  from  a  theoretical  school  had  not 
yet  had  his  unpractical  ideas  corrected  by  experience.  His 
pride,  irritated  at  the  presence  of  the  roughly-dressed  man  in 
the  store,  prompted  him  to  remonstrate  with  his  more  courteous 
and  sagacious  partner  at  the  degradation  of  having  such  a  rough 
man  about  the  store. 

But  the  protest  of  a  foolish  pride  was  vainly  urged  against 
the  good  sense  of  the  senior,  who  had  learned  courtesy  and 
business  in  the  rough-and-tumble  life  of  a  hard-worked  clerk. 
He  treated  the  old  peddler  with  the  same  attention  that  he  paid 
to  the  best-dressed  customer.  The  result  was  that  he  bought 
largely,  wisely,  and  always  paid  promptly.  But  he  gave  his 
confidence  to  the  "clerk,"  and  not  to  the  "graduate."  He 
understood  the  value  of  experience. 

This  incident  recalls  a  remark  once  made  to  the  writer  by  a 
journalist  of  experience.  "  What  sort  of  work,"  he  asked, 
"  are  those  fresh  from  the  schools  in  the  habit  of  doing  when 
employed  on  a  daily  newspaper?" 

"Very  good,  after  six  months'  training;  it  takes  all  of  that 
time  to  get  the  nonsense  out  of  them.  Then  they  are  willing 
to  learn,  and  their  trained  talents  enable  them  to  do  first-class 
work.  At  fir^t,  however,  they  know  every  thing,  and  conse- 
quently make  many  blunders." 

A  word  to  the  wise  graduate  should  be  sufficient.  After  the 
best  school  education  he  can  secure,  he  is  to  accept  experience 
as  his  best  teacher!  The  school  and  experience  are  alike  parts 
of  education. 

SUI^MIKG-^OINItS. 

President  Garfield  is  said  to  have  attributed  the  turning-point 
in  his  career  to  a  remarkable  escape  from  drowning  when  he 
was  a  boy.  He  was  led  to  believe  that  God  had  spared  his  life 
for  a  purpose;  and  what  the  Lord  set  such  value  upon  he  was 
determined  to  make  valuable. 


THE  CASH  SYSTEM  IN  BUSINESS.  79 

Si^iitE  Sayings. 


BY  JOHN  PLOWMAN. 


It  is  bad  beginning  business  without  capital. 

It  is  hard  marketing  with  empty  pockets. 

We  want  a  nest-egg,  for  hens  will  lay  where  there  are  eggs 
already. 

It  is  true  you  must  bake  with  the  flour  you  have,  but  if  the 
sack  is  empty,  it  might  be  quite  as  well  not  to  set  up  for  a  baker. 

Making  bricks  without  straw  is  easy  enough  compared  with 
making  money  when  you  have  none  to  start  with. 

You,  young  gentleman,  stay  as  a  journeyman  a  little  longer, 
till  you  have  saved  a  few  dollars;  fly  when  your  wings  have 
got  feathers;  but  if  you  try  it  too  soon,  you  will  be  like  the 
young  rook  that  broke  its  neck  through  trying  to  fly  before  it 
was  fledged. 

Every  minnow  wants  to  be  a  whale,  but  it  is  prudent  to  be  a 
little  fish  while  you  have  but  little  water;  when  your  pond  be- 
comes the  sea,  then  swell  as  much  as  you  like. 

Trading  without  capital  is  like  building  a  house  without 
bricks,  making  a  fire  without  sticks,  burning  candles  without 
wicks:  it  leads  men  into  tricks,  and  lands  them  in  a  fix. 

She  dJASH  System  in  Business. 

A  good  business  man  must  be  a  practical  financier.  It  is  not 
necessary  that  he  should  understand  all  about  English  consols, 
be  acquainted  with  the  exchange  markets  in  the  great  money 
centers  of  the  globe,  and  master  the  principles  of  quadratic 
equations;  but  he  should  understand  thoroughly  the  difference 
between  profit  and  loss,  know  how  to  use  his  capital  to  good 
advantage,  and  see  that  his  expenses  are  kept  snugly  within  his 
income. 

A  clearly  defined  purpose  of  honest  money-making  should 
be  his  great  intent.  With  this  object  in  view,  and  steadily  pur- 
suing it,  success  will  crown  his  efforts.  The  capital  may  be 
small  at  the  commencement,  but  its  careful  expenditure,  dili- 
gent attention  to  profits,  and  necessary  economy  in  living  and 
details,  will  cause  it  to  grow  year  by  year  until  it  becomes  suf- 


80  YOUTHS'  DEPARTMENT. 

ficient  to  conduct  the  business  without  the  aid  of  credit.  Just 
here  is  the  important  point  in  any  business  career. 

When  a  business  man  can  manage  his  affairs  without  the  help 
of  friends  or  credit,  it  is  then  he  becomes  truly  independent. 
He  is  free  to  buy  in  any  market,  take  advantage  of  the  rise  or 
fall  of  values,  and  is  enabled  to  compete  successfully  with  com- 
petition in  trade.  The  manufacturer  who  pays  prompt  cash  for 
all  his  raw  materials,  and  conducts  his  whole  operations  on  that 
system,  can  make  goods  at  less  cost  than  the  one  who  buys  on 
credit.  The  credit  manufacturer  labors  at  a  disadvantage,  and 
can  only  make  both  ends  meet  on  a  strong  rising  market. 

It  is  the  same  way  with  the  merchant.  The  one  who  buys 
for  strict  cash  is  the  most  sought  after  by  the  trade;  his  money 
gives  him  importance  and  position,  and  he  commands  the  situ- 
ation. He  takes  advantage  of  all  discounts,  secures  the  best 
bargains,  and  occupies  the  lead  in  business.  If  he  is  opposed 
to  those  who  buy  on  credit,  that  kind  of  competition  is  to  be 
feared,  as  the  advantage  is  all  on  the  cash  side.  It  is  impor- 
tant, therefore,  for  every  business  man  to  reach  the  point  where 
he  can  conduct  his  affairs  on  a  cash  basis.  This  position 
reached,  the  worst  half  of  the  conflict  is  over.  To  buy  and 
sell  for  cash  is  the  safe  mode  of  mercantile  management. 

This  system  relieves  the  mind  of  much  worriment  and  anx- 
iety, enables  the  active  prosecution  of  business  to  become  a 
pleasure,  and  the  man  so  engaged  to  be  independent.  This 
should  be  the  aim  of  every  merchant,  manufacturer,  and  busi- 
ness man:  a  fixed,  steady  purpose  to  make  money,  save  it  w^hen 
made,  conduct  all  operations  on  a  cash  basis  as  soon  as  possible, 
so  as,  in  a  certain  sense,  to  defy  competition,  dull  market,  or 
panic  tevulsions. 

Money  is  a  great  power  in  the  commercial  world,  a  sheet- 
anchor  in  business  panics,  and  an  important  factor  in  the  pur- 
suits of  life.  It  should  be  the  firm  purpose  of  every  business 
man  to  make  it  honestly,  spend  it  judiciously,  and  thereby  be- 
come independent 

The  talent  of  turning  men  into  ridicule,  and  exposing  to 
laughter  those  one  converses  with,  is  the  qualification  of  little 
minds  and  ungenerous  tempers.  A  young  man  with  this  cast 
of  mind  cuts  himself  off  from  all  manner  of  improvement. 


THE  UNKNOWN  ARTIST.  81 

She  Uni^nown  flf^jpisip. 

John  Conover  is  now  known  as  one  of  the  leading  artists  in 
a  Western  city,  but  he  had  a  hard  struggle  while  a  lad.  His 
mother,  Mary  Conover,  was  the  widow  of  an  Irish  patriot  who 
fell  a  victim  to  the  cruel  English  laws  which  govern  his  native 
Emerald  Isle.  He  was  shot  while  riding  along  the  public  high 
way;  after  lingering  in  great  agony  for  some  days,  he  bade  a 
sorrowful  farewell  to  his  young  wife  and  baby-boy.  Acting  in 
accordance  with  his  advice,  she  sold  all  her  possessions  soon 
after  her  husband's  death,  and  moved  to  the  New  World. 

In  New  York  city  she  found  a  cousin  of  her  late  husband, 
who  kindly  aided  her  in  finding  suitable  lodgings,  and  in  invest- 
ing her  money  safely,  after  which  her  independent  spirit  would 
allow  her  to  accept  nothing  further.  But  she  found,  with  all 
her  energy  and  accomplishments — for  she  was  well  educated — 
that  her  life  was  a  constant  round  of  drudgery,  and  but  for  the 
sweet  companionship  of  little  John,  would  have  been  bitter  in 
its  hardness.  First  as  a  seamstress,  then  as  a  private  tutor  or 
governess,  then  again  with  a  small  school  in  her  own  house,  she 
struggled  on.  Gradually  she  made  a  few  influential  and  earnest 
friends,  and  these  made  it  possible  for  her  to  live  comfortably, 
though  without  an  hour's  leisure. 

Little  John  had  early  shown  artistic  skill,  and  as  his  mother 
had  received  fair  instruction  in  the  art  of  drawing,  he  was  not 
without  an  early  teacher.  Some  of  Mrs.  Conover's  friends 
chided  her  for  indulging  the  boy  in  what  they  considered  a  use- 
less waste  of  time,  but  others,  with  better  judgment,  encouraged 
her  to  give  him  all  the  aid  she  could. 

At  last  John's  perseverance  and  his  mother's  faith  met  with 
great  encouragement,  for  a  young  artist  near  Madison  Square 
consented  to  give  him  special  lessons  in  return  for  the  lad's 
work  about  his  studio.  The  artist  was  a  man  of  great  talent, 
but  indolent  habits,  fostered  largely  by  the  circumstance  of  his 
inheriting  large  wealth,  and  having  no  need  to  labor  for  a  living 
But  with  John's  advent  he  was  stirred  into  a  new  enthusiasm, 
from  seeing  the  earnest  desire  of  the  lad  to  excel  in  his  studies. 

For  one  year  John  drudged  on  with  his  master,  while  his 
mother  dwelt  in  blissful  anticipation  of  her  son's  future  success. 
At  the  end  of  the  year  John  began  his  first  painting  for  the 
6 


82  YOUTHS'  DEPARTMENT. 

public  eye.  It  was  an  Irish  scene,  made  familiar  by  his  mother's 
description,  and  aided  by  her  criticisms,  he  worked  it  over  again 
and  again,  adding  a  little  here,  and  taking  out  a  little  there, 
until,  as  his  mother  said,  "it  was  true  to  the  life!" 

A  beautiful  gilt  frame  was  bought,  the  picture  carefully 
wrapped,  and  the  "  Unknown  Artist,"  with  his  mother,  went  to 
a  down-town  picture  dealer  to  dispose  of  the  precious  treasure. 
The  boy  wore  a  pair  of  trousers  and  a  cloak  which  his  wealthy 
master  had  given  him,  both  of  which  were  too  large  for  the 
wearer;  but  in  their  eagerness  to  test  the  final  result,  they  for- 
got all  but  the  beautiful  picture. 

The  proprietor  of  the  store  where  they  first  applied  would  not 
take  time  to  examine  the  picture.  A  second  and  a  third  at- 
tempt ended  in  like  manner;  and  at  last,  when  they  came  back 
through  Madison  Square,  a  dealer  in  chromos,  stationery,  and 
notions,  who  occupied  a  little  room  below  a  large  hotel,  con- 
sented to  look  at  the  picture.  After  a  critical  examination  he 
offered  t\yenty-five  dollars  and  received  the  picture.  It  is,  per- 
haps, needless  to  say,  that  many  a  poorer  picture  executed  by 
John  Conover  has  sold  for  moi'e  than  twenty-five  hundred  dol- 
lars since  that  eventful  day. 

This  story  illustrates  the  fact  that  all  unknown  artists,  authors, 
and  professional  men  must  toil  for  a  mere  pittance  at  first.  Al- 
though .they  may  do  much  more  careful  and  better  work  at  first, 
when  time  is  of  small  consequence,  and  there  is  plenty  in  which 
to  perfect  their  work,  and  to  study  its  details,  yet  the  lack  of 
reputation  belittles  the  value  in  which  the  public  holds  their 
productions.  You  must  therefore  be  patient  if  you  would  rise 
to  honor  and  success,  and  do  the  best  you  can  with  what  you 
get.  It  will  do  little  good  to  rail  at  mankind  as  fools  and  sim- 
pletons. Many  know  this  as  well  as  you  do,  yet  they  are  still 
afraid  to  trust  their  own  judgment,  but  wait  for  the  "bell- 
wether" to  take  the  lead,  when  they  quickly  follow. 

I  want  to  give  you  this  advice:  Don't  try  to  be  happy.  Hap- 
piness is  a  shy  nymph,  and  if  you  chase  her  you  will  never  catch 
her.     Go  quietly  on  and  do  your  duty,  and  she  will  come  to  you. 

When  you  are  asked  to  drink,  my  son,  and  have  half  a  mind 
to  accept  the  invitation,  remember  this:  If  you  had  a  whole 
mind  you  wouldn't. 


RUDDERLESS.  88 

I^UDDBI^LBSS. 

Mr.  F ,  a  passenger  on  one  of  our  ocean  steamers  lately, 

found  an  old  college  friend  in  the  captain,  and  they  passed  some 
of  their  leisure  time  in  discussing  their  former  classmates  and 
their  fate. 

"  I  never  could  understand,"  said  Mr.  F ,  one  day,  "  why 

Will  Pettit  did  not  succeed.  He  left  college  equipped  with 
every  qualification  for  the  struggle  of  life.  He  had  sound 
health,  a  vigorous  intellect,  warm  affections,  and  a  competence. 

"  He  proposed  to  enter  the  ministry,  but,  just  before  leaving 
college,  fell  in  with  some  free-thinking  fellows  and  gave  up  that 
idea.  Then  he  studied  law  and  was  admitted,  but  after  a  year's 
practice  he  closed  his  office  and  went  to  farming.  I  met  him 
now  and  then.  He  had  become  a  skeptic,  but  talked  little  of 
his  religious  doubts. 

"Then  he  left  the  farm  and  his  wife,  and  went  to  California, 
gold-hunting. 

"  In  1876  I  was  in  Idaho,  and  there  I  met  Will.  He  had  lost 
every  thing,  and  supported  himself  by  odd  jobs  of  worlc,  prin- 
cipally driving  cattle.  He  was  neither  a  drunkard  nor  a  gam- 
bler, yet  he  had  never  succeeded  in  any  thing  which  he  under- 
took.    He  tried  a  new  road  to  luck  two  or  three  times  a  year. 

"  He  was  now  almost  insane  in  his  opposition  to  Christianity, 
and  talked  incessantly  of  religion,  with  the  vilest  and  most  pro- 
fane abuse.  A  month  or  two  later  he  died,  in  the  same  bitter 
humor,  a  rebel  against  God  if  there  ever  was  one.  It  is  a  mys- 
tery to  me  why  such  a  man  should  have  made  such  an  end." 

After  a  short  silence,  the  captain  said: 

"  Old  sailors  have  a  superstition  that  there  are  phantom  ships 
that  traverse  the  sea.  I  saw  a  vessel  once  that  explained  to  me 
how  the  idea  originated.  It  was  a  full-rigged  bark,  under  sail, 
and  driving  before  a  brisk  sou'-wester.  There  was  not  a  living 
man  on  board.  I  surmised  that  some  virulent  disease  had 
broken  out  on  her,  and  that  the  crew  were  all  dead,  or  had  de- 
serted her.     I  tried  to  capture  her,  but  could  not. 

"  Several  months  later  I  passed  her  again.  Her  topmast  was 
gone,  her  sails  hung  in  rags,  and  the  wind  drove  her  where  it 
would.  A  year  after  she  came  across  our  bows  one  stormy 
winter  evening.     She  was  a  shattered  hulk,  with  every  plank 


84     ■  YOUTHS'  DEPARTMENT. 

started;  tlie  waves  washed  her  back  and  forth.  She  went  down 
at  last  into  the  darkness  and  storm. 

"  She  was  a  good  ship  at  first,  but,"  he  added,  significantly, 
"she  had  lost  her  rudder!" 

How  many  young  lads  who  read  this  are  starting  out  on  the 
one  long  voyage  which  waits  for  every  man,  well-equipped, 
and  apparently  promising,  but  without  a  rudder? 

0)AN,    I<;N0W   ©HYSELP. 

The  worst  of  it  is,  that  the  ambitious  do  not  always  consider 
what  are  the  chances  of  their  ambition  proving  successful. 
They  do  not  wait  to  see  whether  the  ladder  by  which  they  seek 
toclimb  is  planted  upon  firm  ground;  and  before  they  are  half- 
way up,  it  slips,  and  precij^itates  them  headlong.  Sometimes 
the  ladder  itself  is  no  trusty  fabric,  and  yields  to  the  steps  of 
the  unlucky  climber.  Every  day  presents  us  with  melancholy 
instances  of  men  who  attempt  a  w^ork  for  which  they  are  not 
fitted,  or  which  they  have  not  the  means  to  carry  out,  and 
whose  labors  necessarily  result  in  melancholy  failures  "Know 
thyself,"  said  the  Greek"  sage;  and  doubtless  he  meant  that  we 
should  know  the  measure  of  our  faculties,  the  range  of  our 
powers,  in  order  that  we  might  undertake  nothing  we  could 
not  accomplish.  Before  we  enter  upon  a  labor  that  must  con- 
sume the  best  part  of  our  lives,  it  is  essential  then  that  we 
should  consider  how  far  w^e  are  adapted  to  prosecute  it  to  a 
successful  end,  lest  we  should  simply  prepare  for  ourselves  an 
old  age  of  unavailing  regret. 

What  is  wanted  in  our  present  social  condition  is  not  so  much 
this  feverish  effort  to  rise  from  one  class  into  another,  as  a  bet- 
ter feeling,  a  more  cordial  understanding,  between  classes.  It 
was  supposed  that  this  better  feeling,  this  more  cordial  under- 
standing, would  be  arrived  at  as  education  advanced,  and  as  the 
increasing  prosperity  of  the  nation  improved  the  position  of 
the  lower  orders;  but,  on  the  contrary,  the  gulf  between  the 
"upper"  and  the  "lower,"  between  the  "privileged"  and  the 
"  unprivileged,"  has  deepened  and  widened,  and  I  believe  there 
exists  at  present  a  stronger  antagonism  than  has  ever  before 
been  known.  How  this  antagonism  may  be  neutralized  or  dis- 
sipated, it  scarcely  falls  within  my  province  to  inquire;   but  I 


MAN,  KNOW  THYSELF.  85 

may  point  out  that  something  may  be  done  by  a  stricter  adher- 
ence on  the  part  of  the  privileged  to  the  principles  on  which 
every  code  of  good  manners  is  based.  The  upper  classes  have 
been  largely  re-inforced  by  men  w^ho  have  raised  themselves 
and  their  families  to  opulence;  and  these  men  have  been  found 
wanting  in  those  habits  of  delicate  consideration  and  genuine 
sympathy  which  had  become  traditional  among  the  English 
gentry.  They  have  treated,  they  still  treat,  the  classes  beneath 
them  with  supercilious  arrogance,  trampling  on  their  feelings, 
and  neglecting  their  susceptibilities.  It  would  be  idle  to  deny 
that  this  is  the  real  cause  of  much  of  the  irritation  with  which 
the  working-classes  now  regard  the  doings  and  sayings  of  their 
superiors.  A  rudely  arrogant  speech  often  rankles  in  the  mind 
long  after  an  unjust  action  has  been  forgotten.  A  wound  to  a 
man's  vanity  leaves  a  permanent  scar.  I  am  persuaded  that  a 
good  effect  would  be  produced  if  "superiors"  would  more  gen- 
erally behave  to  their  "inferiors"  with  courtesy,  addressing 
them  as  if  they  acknowledged  their  right  to  breathe  God's  air 
and  dwell  in  God's  sunshine — a  right  which  some  wealthy  par- 
venus, by  the  insolence  of  their  speech  and  conduct,  seem  almost 
to  question.  I  believe  that  good  manners  never  fail  to  exercise 
a  pacific  influence,  and  that  they  would  do  as  .nuch  toward 
bridging  over  the  differences  between  classes  as  the  nostrum  of 
any  political  reformer  or  moral  philosopher.  A  polite — that  is, 
a  polished — man  puts  his  neighbor  at  his  ease,  and  by  so  doing 
confirms  his  self-respect;  and  no  one  can  be  ungrateful  toward 
the  man  who  renders  him  so  inestimable  a  service.  For  what 
greater  obligation  can  be  conferred  upon  us  than  to  raise  us  in 
our  own  esteem,  and  restore  that  confidence  in  ourselves,  that 
sense  of  our  dignity,  which,  perhaps,  a  series  of  misfortunes  or 
a  long  course  of  contumely  has  broken  down?  It  is  in  this  way 
that  the  truth  may  be  proved  of  the  essayist's  saying:  "Fine 
manners  show  themselves  formidable  to  the  uncultivated  man." 
But  the  uncultivated  man  may,  in  his  turn,  submit  to  a  test  of 
his  own  good  manners,  and  convince  the  observer  that  he  is 
qualified  for  a  higher  position  by  not  being  ashamed  of  the  one 
he  occupies.  He  will  preserve  his  independence  by  reflecting 
that  the  work  he  does  is  in  its  way  a  nobler  and  more  useful 
work  than  that  which  is  done  by  the  creatures  of  fashion. 
With  this  knowledge  at  his  heart  he  will  maintain  a  manly  de 


86  YOUTHS'  DEPABTMEI^T. 

meaner,   not  churlish  or  aggressive,  but  firm,  resolved,  com- 
posed, and  self-reliant.     Do  you  know  Emerson's  apologue? 

"  The  mountain  and  the  squirrel 

Had  a  quarrel; 

And  the  former  called  the  latter  'Little  Prig.' 
•You  are  doubtless  very  big; 

But  all  sorts  of  things  and  weather 

Must  be  taken  in  together. 

To  make-  up  a  year 

And  a  sphere. 

And  I  think  it  no  disgrace 

To  occupy  my  place. 

If  I'm  not  so  large  as  you, 

You  are  not  so  small  as  I, 

And  not  half  so  spry. 

I'll  not  deny  you  make 

A  very  pretty  squirrel  track; 

Talents  differ,  all  is  well  and  wisely  put; 

If  I  cannot  carry  forests  on  my  back, 

Neither  can  you  crack  a  nut.' " 

This  assertion  by  each  class  of  its  peculiar  strength,  and  of 
its  place  in  the  general  economy,  will,  if  made  in  a  moderate 
and  patient  spirit,  tend  to  establish  an  amicable  sentiment  be- 
tween all  classes,  and  promote  the  growth  of  fine  manners, 
based  on  the  ground  of  self-respect. 

.She  FJighjf  05a y. 

Some  years  ago  a  well-known  Boston  merchant,  then  a  new- 
ly-fledged junior  in  the  house  of  which  he  is  now  a  leading 
partner,  was  sitting  at  a  desk  surrounded  by  samples,  with  a 
newly-bought  memorandum-book  before  him. 

He  had  a  magnifier,  and  was  examining  the  different  sam- 
ples, carefully  counting  the  number  of  threads  to  the  inch,  and 
duly  recording  the  results  of  his  investigations. 

"What  are  you  up  to  now?"  asked  the  senior  partner,  taking 
a  seat  on  the  corner  of  the  desk. 

"  I'm  examining  these  goods,  sir,"  answered  the  junior.  "  I 
want  to  find  out  all  I  can  about  this  business." 

"Of  course  you  do,"  continued  the  head  of  the  house,  "but 


A  SCHOLARS  ENTHUSIASM.  87 

that's  no  way  to  do  it.  Put  your  glass  in  your  pocket.  You 
may  need  it  some  day,  although  it  isn't  likely.  Burn  up  that 
memorandum-book.  If  you  write  down  all  you  know  some 
clerk  will  get  it  all  away  from  you.  Go  among  the  goods,  look 
at  them,  feel  of  them,  learn  to  know  them  as  I  do,  ask  all  the 
questions  you  choose,  and  remember  what  you  hear,  and  before 
you  know  it  you  will  be  able  to  tell  the  value  of  a  piece  of 
goods  in  the  dark.  You  can't  learn  this  business  by  rule,  young 
man.     You've  got  to  absorb  it." 

XJoumu. 

'Mid  all  the  ills,  the  sorrows,  cares,  and  strife, 

And  dangers  thick  unseen  by  mortal  eye, 
Rejoicing  in  the  budding  joys  of  life, 

Youth  passes,  as  a  cloud  flits  through  the  sky, 

And  age  finds  many  unprepared  to  die. 

How  happy  those  who  in  their  early  days 

Give  God  their  hearts — to  his  protection  fly. 
And  spend  their  lives  in  wisdom's  pleasant  ways; 

Yield  up  their  breath  with  joy,  and  dwell  with  him  on  high! 

\ 

fl  Sgholaf^'s  €njphusiasm. 

The  career  of  M.  Korosi,  a  Hungarian,  illustrates  the  toil, 
want,  and  hardships  that  assail  the  scholar's  life,  but  which  his 
enthusiasm  overcomes. 

One  day,  about  sixty  years  ago.  Count  Telsky,  a  Hungarian 
nobleman,  was  standing  in  front  of  his  house,  when  he  saw  a 
young  neighbor  passing  by.  The  thin,  yellow  garment  in 
which  he  was  clad,  the  staff*  he  carried  in  one  hand,  and  the 
small  bundle  in  the  other,  excited  the  count's  curiosity. 

"Where  are  you  going,  M.  Korosi?"  he  asked. 

"To  Asia,  in  search  of  our  kinsmen,"  replied  the  young  man, 
walking  sturdily  on. 

Wearily,  but  with  a  will  that  overcame  many  obstacles,  the 
enthusiastic  scholar  made  his  way  to  Thibet,  hoping  to  find  the 
central  home  of  those  Huns  from  whom  the  Hungarians  are 
supposed  to  have  descended.  On  the  high,  bleak  table-land 
of  that  country  he  lived  fot  years,  studying  in  Buddhist  monas- 


88  YOUTHS'  DEPARTMENT. 

teries,  discovering  a  vast  unknown  religious  literature,  and  pro- 
ducing a  grammar  and  dictionary  of  the  Thibetan  language. 

His  enthusiasm  made  him  defiant  of  the  intense  cold  of  that 
elevated  region.  He  vs^ould  sit  day  after  day  in  a  hut,  at  the 
door  of  a  monastery,  reading  aloud  Buddhistic  works  with  a 
Lama  by  his  side.  When  a  page  was  finished  the  two  readers 
would  nudge  each  other;  for  it  was  a  serious  question  which  of 
them  should  turn  over  the  leaf,  as  the  momentary  extension  of 
the  hand  out  of  the  long,  furred  sleeve  exposed  it  to  the  risk  of 
being  frost-bitten. 

He  ended  his  days,  a  victim  to  his  devotion  to  study,  in  an 
Indian  hut,  where  he  sat,  ate,  slept,  and  studied,  with  a  box  of 
books  on  the  four  sides.  He  never  undressed  at  night,  and 
rarely  went  out  during  the  day.  The  dream  of  his  youth  was 
never  realized,  but  he  was  one  of  the  first  to  make  known  to 
Europe  the  sacred  books  of  Thibetan  Buddhism. 

"  Put  money  in  thy  purse,"  said  lago,  and  hundreds  echo  the 
advice,  or  quote  Pope's  lines: 

"Get  place  and  wealth;  if  possible,  with  grace; 
If  not,  by  any  means  get  wealth  and  place." 

But  no  money  will  buy  the  enthusiasm  which  this  Hungarian 
scholar  exhibited. 

GXPEI^IBNGE. 

A  man  might  easily  speculate  whether  there  is  any  such  emo- 
tion as  patriotism.  It  is  of  doubtful  usefulness  to  argue  with 
him.  "He  who  scrubs  the  head  of  an  ass  wastes  his  soap,"  said 
that  great  philosopher,  the  dab  of  fiction.  Dr.  Riccabocca. 
And  equally  he  who  reasons  on  a  matter  that  is  to  be  known 
only  by  expei'ience,  wastes  his  reasons. 

SGHUBEr^ip. 

Schubert  died  at  the  age  of  thirty-two.  He  had  been  a  hard 
worker,  and  Schumann  said  when  he  heard  of  his  death,  "  Well, 
he  had  done  enough." 

If  you  keep  the  door  of  your  soul  wide  open,  for  your  mother 
to  enter  when  she  likes,  there  is  little  fear  of  much  sin  lodging 
in  it. 


side-shows.  89 

Side-shows. 


[FROM  "OUK  BUSINESS  B0Y8."1 


One  of  the  business  men  of  Portland,  in  speaking  of  dangers 
which  beset  boys,  writes  the  single  word  Side-shows.  He  did 
not  explain  his  meaning,  but  I  will  tell  you  what  I  think  he 
meant.  You  have  all  been  at  some  show  where,  beside  the 
main  building  in  which  the  fair  was  held,  there  were  several 
other  buildings,  or  tents,  covered  all  over  the  outside  with  flam- 
ing pictures  of  the  Fat  Woman,  and  the  Living  Skeleton,  and 
the  Human  Midget,  and  an  impossible  boa-constrictor  swallow- 
ing an  impossible  sheep,  and  the  Albino  Children,  with  their 
long  white  hair,  and  ever  so  many  other  wonders.  The;  admis- 
sion to  this  side-show  was  only  ten  cents,  whereas  you  had  to 
pay  twenty-five  or  fifty  cents  to  go  into  the  fair-grounds,  and  so 
you  concluded  you  would  go  into  the  side-show,  and  see  the 
fat  woman  and  the  skeleton  man,  and  the  snake  swallow  the 
sheep.  But  when  you  got  in  you  found  that  the  attractions  of 
the  side-show  were  all  on  the  outside:  the  fat  woman  wasn't 
nearly  so  fat,  or  the  skeleton  so  thin,  as  they  were  painted,  nor 
could  the  latter  draw  himself  out  in  long  sections,  flute  fashion, 
as  the  picture  represented.  Moreover,  the  Albinos  were  very 
ordinary  girls  with  fluffy  hair,  and  the  snake  was  stuffed,  nor 
could  he  have  swallowed  a  sheep  if  he  had  not  been.  In  short, 
the  side-show  wasn't  what  it  was  represented;  the  best  part  of 
it  was  on  the  outside,  and,  as  you  had  spent  ten  cents,  you  had 
not  enough  left  to  pay  for  the  entrance  ticket  to  the  fair;  so  you 
lost  all  that  was  really  good,  and  saw  nothing  worth  seeing 
after  all. 

I  think  this  side-show  tent  represents,  as  my  correspondent 
indicated,  a  real  danger  in  every  boy's  life;  and  other  business 
men  mentioned  some  of  the  particular  side-shows  which  you 
must  guard  against.  For  instance,  there  is  the  variety  theater 
side-show;  bad  reading — flash  papers,  magazines,  and  novels; 
the  public  billiard-hall;  drinking  saloons,  horse-races,  midnight 
dances,  and  the  like.  You  can,  too,  make  a  side-show  of  almost 
any  thing,  even  of  things  which  are  perfectly  proper  in  them- 
selves. The  skating-rink,  the  fish-pond,  the  marble-ring,  the 
base-ball   ground — if  they  take  time  and  strength  which  you 


90  YOUTHS'  DEPARTMENT. 

ought  to  devote  to  work  or  study — all  become  dangerous  side-^ 
shows.  Every  bo}'  ought  to  know  how  to  skate,  and  fish,  and 
shoot,  and  play  base-ball;  but  be  sure  not  to  make  any  of  these 
things  the  main  business  of  life. 

For  remember:  No  boy  that  goes  into  many  of  the  side-sho\y 
tents  at  the  fair  will  be  likely  to  get  into  the  main  exhibition. 

Bad  r^ABIiPS. 
The  boy  who  spends  an  hour  each  evening  lounging  idly  on 
the  street-corners  wastes  in  a  year  three  hundred  and  sixty-five 
precious  hours,  which  if  applied  to  study  would  familiarize  him 
with  the  rudiments  of  almost  any  science.  If  in  addition  to 
wasting  an  hour  each  evening  he  spends  ten  cents  for  a  cigar, 
which  is  usually  the  case,  the  amount  thus  worse  than  wasted 
would  pay  for  ten  of  the  leading  periodicals  of  the  country. 
Boys,  think  of  these  things.  Think  of  how  much  money  you 
are  wasting,  and  for  what.''  The  gratification  afforded  by  the 
lounge  on  the  corner,  or  the  cigar,  is  not  only  temporary,  but 
positively  hurtful.  You  cannot  indulge  in  them  without  seri- 
ously injuring  yourselves.  You  acquire  idle  and  wasteful 
habits,  which  will  cling  to  you  with  each  succeeding  year  and 
grow  on  you  for  life. 

Sowing  ^ild  Oajps. 

The  most  magnificent  specimen  of  young  manhood  that  I 
have  ever  known  was  a  young  fellow-student  named  Henry 
Haines.  As  an  athlete  on  the  campus,  as  a  scholar  in  the  arena 
of  debate^  he  was  facile  pi'ineeps,  every-where  and  always.  We 
were  not  so  much  envious  of  him  as  pi-oud  of  him,  and  we 
fondly  fancied  that  there  could  be  no  height  of  fame  or  fortune 
too  difficult  for  his  adventurous  feet  to  climb,  and  that  the  time 
would  come  when  he  would  fill  the  world  with  the  echo  of  his 
fame,  and  it  would  be  a  proud  thing  for  any.  of  us  to  declare 
that  we  had  known  him.  A  little  tendency  to  dissipation  was 
by  some  of  us  observed,  but  this  was  only  the  wild-oats  sowing 
which  was  natural  to  youth  and  genius,  and  which  we  did  not 
doubt  that  after-years  would  chasten  and  correct. 

But  the  years  came  and  the  years  went,  and  the  young  col- 
legians were  scattered  through  the  world,  and  ever  and  anon 
would  some  of  us  wonder  what  had  become  of  Henry  Haines. 


SOWING  WILD  OATS.  91 

We  looked  in  vain  for  his  rising  star,  and  listened  long  for  his 
coming  feet. 

Some  time  ago,  for  a  single  Sabbath,  I  was  preaching  in  New 
York.  My  theme  in  the  morning  had  been,  "The  Ghost  of 
Buried  Opportunity."  On  my  way  to  the  hotel  I  discovered 
that  I  was  shadowed  by  a  desperate-looking  wretch,  whose 
garb,  whose  gait,  whose  battered,  bloated  look  all  unmistaka- 
bly betokened  the  spawn  of  slums.  What  could  the  villain 
want  with  me?  I  paused  at  my  door,  and  faced  about  to  con- 
front him.     He  paused,  advanced,  and  then  huskily  whispered : 

"Henson,  do  you  know  me?'' 

I  assured  him  I  did  not,  whereupon  he  continued: 

"Do  you  remember  Henry  Haines?" 

"Aye,  aye,  well  enough;  but  surely  you  are  not  Henry 
Haines?" 

"I  am  what  is  left  of  him — I  am  the  ghost  of  him." 

I  shuddered  as  I  reached  for  his  hands,  and  gazing  intently 
into  his  face,  discovered  still  some  traces  of  my  long-lost  friend, 
still  doubly  lost,  though  found  again.  I  put  my  arms  about  him 
in  brotherly  embrace,  and  drew  him  to  my  room,  and  drew 
from  his  lips  the  story  of  his  shattered  life.  I  begged  him  by 
the  old  loves  and  unforgotten  memories  of  better  days  to  go 
back  with  me  to  my  home  in  Philadelphia,  and  under  new 
auspices  and  with  new  surroundings  to  strike  out  for  a  noble 
destiny,  which  I  hoped  might  still  be  possible.  But,  striking 
his  clenched  fist  on  my  table,  he  said: 

"Henson,  it's  no  use  to  talk  to  me.  I'm  a  dead-beat,  and  am 
dead  broke.  I'm  a  burnt-out  volcano,  and  there's  nothing  left 
of  me  but  cinders  now.  I  have  come  to  New  York  to  bury 
myself  out  of  sight  of  all  that  ever  loved  me.  I  know  the 
ropes  here,  and  shall  stay  here  till  I  rot.  I  live  in  a  muskrat 
hole  near  the  wharf.  I  shall  die  as  I  have  lived,  and  I  have 
lived  like  a  dog." 

In  vain  were  my  earnest  protests  and  brotherly  pleading. 
He  tore  himself  from  me  and  went  shambling  off  to  his  den 
by  the  wharf. 

He  had  sown  the  wind,  and  was  reaping  the  whirlwind.  He 
had  sown  to  the  flesh,  and  was  reaping  corruption.  He  had 
sown  "  wild  oats,"  and  the  oats  were  now  yielding  a  di'ead  har- 
vest of  woe. 


92  YOUTHS'  DEPARTMENT. 

UiGIOUS   LXIIFEI^AIFLII^B. 


BY  THE  REV.  J.  T.  CHRISTIAN. 


The  practical  influence  of  the  printing-press  is  almost  beyond 
bounds.  Wendell  Phillips  earnestly  said:  "Let  me  make  the 
newspapers  of  a  country,  and  I  care  not  who  makes  their  re- 
ligion or  their  laws."  Napoleon,  in  his  busy,  impetuous  life, 
had  time  to  remark:  "Four  hostile  newspapers  are  more  to  be 
feared  than  one  hundred  thousand  enemies."  And  you  who  so 
often  quote  Thomas  JefTerson,  will  you  listen  to  the  most  prac- 
tical words  of  his  life:  "I  had  rather  live  in  a  country  with 
newspapers  and  no  govei'nment  than  in  one  possessed  of  a 
government  without  a  newspaper."  The  practical  outgrowth 
in  every  department  of  arts  and  inventions  has  been  very^  great, 
and  every  decade  has  put  to  blush  the  one  preceding.  The 
printing-press  has  been  in  the  van  of  progress. 

A  while  ago  it  took  ten  years  to  print  a  book  of  six  hundred 
pages,  and  no\N^  twenty  thousand  copies  of  a  newspaper  are 
printed,  folded,  and  addressed  in  one  hour  on  one  press.  In 
1704  the  Boston  News  Letter  was  the  only  paper  on  this  conti- 
nent, and  now  there  is  printed  every  ten  days  a  paper  for  every 
man,  woman,  and  child  in  America;  and  the  output  of  books 
is  so  enormous  that  figures  can  scarcely  tell  the  tale.  I  am  not 
now  speaking  against  any  class  of  literature,  but  merely  show- 
ing the  immense  influence  it  must  exert.  A  good  newspaper 
is  the  right  hand  of  authority  and  order;  a  bad  newspaper  is 
the  engine  of  destruction  and  death. 

The  average  citizen  reads  the  morning  paper,  eats  his  break- 
fast, smokes  a  cigar,  and  rushes  headlong  after  the  phantom  of 
gold  until  the  late  hours  of  night.  I  call  a  halt!  One  moment, 
if  you  please!  Think  what  you  are  doing,  and  where  you  are 
going.  An  hour  with  your  family  will  be  better  than  gold,  and 
a  while  to  meditate,  read,  and  inwardly  digest,  than  much  silver. 

But  for  all  this,  there  is  reading  going  on  in  the  city,  and  much 
of  it  is  not  of  the  right  character.  Indeed,  its  very  want  of 
character  is  our  main  objection  against  it.  .  It  is  a  great  and 
terrible  wilderness  full  of  scorpions  and  fiery  serpents;  clouds 
that  float  with  the  forebodings  of  a  storm,  but  contain  no  water 
for  the  nourishment  of  the  earth;    not  the  rolling  wave  that 


VICIOUS  LITERATURE.  93 

purifies  the  waters,  but  the  angry  billows  that  wash  up  mire  and 
dirt;  and  woe  to  that  man  whose  garments  are  stained  by  it! 

You  will  notice  that  this  form  of  reading-matter  is  character- 
ized by  flashy  and  attractive  pictures.  These  pictures  are  found 
every-where — in  books  and  out  of  them.  They  are  generally 
in  the  hands  of  young  men,  and  sometimes,  I  am  sorry  to  say, 
an  old  man  so  far  forgets  his  gray  hairs  as  to  carry  them  in  his 
pocket.  The  young  man  can  plead  the  indiscretions  of  youth, 
but  the  old  man  deserves  no  compassion,  and  should  receive  none. 
These  pictures  are  base  in  their  character,  and  tend  to  destroy 
every  good  impulse  of  the  heart.  Sir,  if  you  have  such  a  picture, 
pluck  it  from  your  pocket  as  you  would  a  burning  coal;  take 
the  tongs,  so  that  it  will  not  pollute  your  hands,  and  put  it  in 
the  fire,  and  with  its  fading  ashes  make  a  resolution  to  be  a 
better  man. 

There  is  a  class  of  works  that  at  first  sight  would  seem  to  be 
harmless.  It  is  like  the  serpent  that  strikes  before  it  gives  an 
alarm.  I  refer  to  certain  medical  works.  They  are  freely  ad- 
vertised in  the  papers,  and  can  be  had  for  the  asking.  They 
are  full  of  the  vilest  insinuations  and  the  most  immoral  pictures. 
They  are  mostly  circulated  among  the  boys,  but  may  be  found 
locked  up  in  the  trunks  of  some  older  people  as  a  "  Medical 
Adviser."  A  father  rebels  at  once,  and  says,  "  My  boy  has  no 
such  book."  I  hope  not.  I  only  raise  the  warning  cry,  attend 
to  it  who  will.  If  you  need  medical  care,  consult  your  physi- 
cian, but  don't  send  for  some  low  book. 

I  have  reason  to  know  that  trashy  novels  have  an  immense 
circulation  in  our  cities.  Somebody  springs  up  and  inquires, 
"What!  do  you  condemn  the  reading  of  all  novels?"  I  very 
frankly  say.  No.  A  good  novel  is  to  be  read  as  quickly  as  any 
other  good  book.  The  imagination  needs  cultivating  and  stim- 
ulating as  much  as  any  other  faculty  of  the  mind.  But  that 
does  not  mean  that  you  are  to  fill  your  head  with  rubbish  and 
your  heart  with  slime  and  pitch.  Standard  novels?  Well,  yes. 
More  people  talk  about  standard  works  than  read  them.  You 
borrow  a  copy  of  Scott,  dream  over  the  few  first  pages,  set  it 
down  as  intolerably  dry,  and  send  it  back,  or  more  probably  let 
the  children  tear  it  up. 

I  had  occasion  to  inquire  not  long  since  for  a  half-dozen 
"  standard  "  works,  and  could  not  find  a  copy  in  stock,  but  the 


94  YOUTHS'  DEPARTMENT. 

trashy  kinds  were  around  me  as  thick  as  the  leaves  of  Vallam- 
brosa.  If  you  read  one  of  these,  and  there  is  no  positive  harm, 
you  have  wasted  your  time  with  the  sheerest  nonsense,  and  a 
boy  will  lose  his  dinner  reading  wild  Western  scenes,  and  get 
his  war-paint  on  any  time  in  fighting  the  Indians. 

To  say  nothing  of  certain  American  novels,  French  novels 
are  almost  invariably  corrupt  and  evil,  and  evil  only,  in  their 
tendency.  This  trouble  is  augmented  unfortunately  by  our 
fashions  coming  from  that  country,  and  that  we  Americans 
have  an  idea  to  be  Frenchy  is  something  amazing;  well,  truly, 
it  is  something  amazing  to  God  and  men.  We  want  no  atlieistical 
French  Revolutions.  We  want  no  importations  that  pull  down 
the  palisades  of  home,  and  destroy  the  family  relation.  A  cor- 
rupt book  has  more  than  once  caused  a  Sir  Lancelot  to  fall,  and, 
as  he  sorrowfully  said,  hell  did  not  atone  for  his  sin.  It  was 
honest  old  Thomas  Carlyle  who  bluntly  said,  "Loving  my  own 
life  and  senses  as  I  do,  no  power  shall  induce  me,  as  a  private 
individual,  to  open  another  fashionable  novel." 

We  come  to  speak  of  the  newspapers.  Of  the  better  class 
of  papers,  including  the  dailies,  although  they  are  somewhat 
sensational  at  times,  I  have  nothing  to  say.  We  will  make  a 
comparison  of  the  monthly  circulation  of  certain  journals  which 
can  be  relied  upon  as  tolerably  accurate.  The  Century,  Harp- 
er's Monthly,  and  the  North  American  Review  will  represent  the 
.  higher  class  of  magazines,  and  they  are  really  the  only  ones 
that  have  a  circulation  here  worth  mentioning,  and  they  have  a 
combined  monthly  sale  of  one  hundred  and  thirteen  copies. 
This  is  a  manufacturing  town,  so  the  American  Machinist  reaches 
one  hundred  and  sixty  copies,  and  the  Scientific  American  sixty- 
eight.  From  among  a  number  we  have  selected  six  papers 
which  are  trashy.  They  are  Beadle's  Weekly,  Family  Story 
Paper,  Saturday  Night,  New  York  Weekly,  Fireside  Companion, 
and  The  New  York  Ledger,  with  a  combined  monthly  circulation 
of  two  thousand  four  hundred  and  forty-two.  And  represent- 
ing the  positively  corrupt  and  pernicious  are  the  Police  News 
and  Gazette,  with  a  circulation  of  four  hundred  and  sixty-five. 
And  right  here  we  mention  that  it  is  almost  impossible  to  find  a 
barber's  shop  that  has  not  one  or  both  of  these  papers  lying 
around.  The  customers  demand  it?  All  the  worse  for  the  cus- 
tomers. 


JEFFERSON'S  TEN  RULES.  96  . 

The  laws  of  the  land  should  suppress  these  papers  as  obscene. 
We  believe  in  an  unlimited  supply  of  pure  water,  but  we  also 
believe  that  every  foul  pond  and  stagnant  sewei*  should  be 
drained.  But  to  the  comparison.  From  these  figures  we 
learn  that  in  our  city  there  is  bought  twenty-two  times  more 
trashy,  and  five  times  more  corrupt,  literature  than  there  is  of 
good  journals.  Apd  where  one  mechanical  journal  is  bought 
three  of  the  Police  News  and  Gazette  is  sold,  and  fifteen  trashy 
papers.  To  say  the  least,  this  is  a  poor  showing,  and  somewhat 
■damaging  to  our  self-esteem. 

What  about  infidel  books.?  This  is  the  only  place  we  have 
reached  solid  rock,  and  could  cry,  hallelujah!  I  was  informed 
that  there  was  absolutely  no  sale  for  them.  Thank  God,  this 
people  are  not  going  through  that  wilderness!  A  leading  pub- 
lisher said,  not  long  ago,  about  the  only  people  who  buy  infidel 
works  are  Christian  ministers  who  answer  them.  I  have  never 
seen  but  one  copy  of  Tom  Paine's  Age  of  Reason  in  this  city, 
and  when  its  owner  was  converted  he  gave  it  to  a  minister.  As 
long  as  this  state  of  things  continues  our  hope  for  the  future  is 
bright,  and  our  ardent  hope  is  that  the  future  may  be  our  best 
days.  To  the  north  of  Ireland  there  are  some  dangerous  rocks 
hid  just  beneath  the  surface  of  the  water,  and  many  noble  ves- 
sels have  been  wrecked  upon  them.  Along  the  track  we  have 
pursued  this  day  are  dangerous  shoals.  Many  noble  young  men 
have  found  here  their  ruin.  Avoid  the  danger,  seek  the  truth, 
and  find  life. 

^EPPEF^SON'S  ©EN    I^ULES. 

Take  things  always  by  the  smooth  handle. 

We  seldom  repent  of  having  eaten  too  little. 

Nothing  is  troublesome  that  we  do  willingly. 

Pride  costs  more  than  hunger,  thirst,  and  cold. 

Never  spend  your  money  before  you  have  it. 

Never  buy  what  you  don't  want  because  it  is  cheap. 

Never  trouble  another  for  what  you  can  do  yourself. 

Never  put  off  till  to-morrow  what  you  can  do  to-day. 

How  much  pain  the  evils  have  cost  us  that  have  never  hap- 
pened! 

When  angry,  count  ten  before  you  speak;  if  very  angry, 
count  a  hundred. 


96  YOUTHS'  DEPARTMENT. 

INPLUENGE. 


BY  T.  DE  WITT  TALMAGE. 


Last  Sabbath  morning,  at  the  close  of  the  service,  I  saw  a 
gold  watch  of  the  world-renowned  and  deeply-lamented  violin- 
ist, Ole  Bull.  You  remember  he  died  last  summer  in  his  island 
home  off  the  coast  of  Norway.  That  gold  watch  he  had 
wound  up  day  after  day  through  his  last  illness,  and  then  he 
said  to  his  companion:  "Now,  I  want  to  wind  this  watch  as 
long  as  I  can,  and  then,  when  I  am  gone,  I  want  you  to  keep 
it  wound  up  until  it  gets  to  my  friend,  Dr.  Doremus,  in  New 
York;  and  then  he  will  keep  it  wound  up  until  his  life  is  done; 
and  then  I  want  the  watch  to  go  to  his  young  son,  my  especial 
favorite." 

The  great  musician  who  more  than  any  other  artist  had  made 
the  violin  speak,  and  sing,  and  weep,  and  laugh,  and  triumph — 
for  it  seemed  when  he  drew  the  bow  across  the  strings  as  if  all 
earth  and  heaven  shivered  in  delighted  sympathy — the  great 
musician,  in  a  room  looking  off  upon  the  sea,  and  surrounded 
by  his  favorite  instruments  of  music,  closed  his  eyes  in  death. 
While  all  the  world  was  mourning  at  his  departure,  sixteen 
crowded  steamers  fell  into  line  of  funeral  procession  to  carry 
his  body  to  the  mainland.  There  were  fifty  thousand  of  his 
countrymen  gathered  in  an  amphitheater  of  the  hills  waiting  to 
hear  the  eulogium,  and  it  was  said  when  the  great  orator  of  the 
day  with  stentorian  voice  began  to  speak,  the  fifty  thousand 
people  on  the  hillsides  burst  into  tears. 

O  that  was  the  close  of  a  life  that  had  done  so  much  to  make 
the  world  happy  I  But  I  have  to  tell  you,  young  man,  if  you 
live  right  and  die  right,  that  was  a  tame  scene  compared  with 
that  which  will  greet  you  when  from  the  galleries  of  heaven 
the  one  hundred  and  forty  and  four  thousand  shall  accord  with 
Christ  in  crying,  "Well  done,  thou  good  and  faithful  servant." 
And  the  influences  that  on  earth  you  put  in  motion  will  go 
down  from  generation  to  generation — the  influences  you  wound 
up  handed  to  your  children,  and  their  influences  wound  up 
handed  to  their  children — until  watch  and  clock  are  no  more 
needed  to  mark  the  progress,  because  time  itself  shall  be  no 
longer. 


the  vanity  of  riches.  97 

She  Uanijpy  op  F{i6HES. 

When  our  Successful  Man  was  a  boy,  and  lived  in  a  manu- 
facturing village  of  New  Hampshire,  a  widow's  son,  the  great- 
est luxury  be  knew  was  to  eat  apples.  So  he  told  us  the  other 
day,  when  we  fell  into  conversation  about  old  times. 

"  Yes,"  said  he,  "  when  I  was  ten  years  old  I  used  to  think 
that  if  ever  I  was  rich  enough  to  have  as  many  apples  as  I 
wanted  all  the  year  round,  I  should  be  perfectly  happy.  And 
now!" 

He  went  on  to  say  that  he  had  one  of  the  finest  orchards,  on 
a  small  scale,  to  be  found  anywhere  in  Massachusetts,  which 
produced  last  year  ninety-four  barrels  of  apples  of  the  best 
varieties  yet  produced.  But  he  did  not  eat  two  apples  per  an- 
num. He  could  not,  for  while  he  was  making  his  fortune  he 
worked  so  hard,  and  confined  himself  so  closely,  as  to  contract 
a  chronic  weakness  of  digestion.  With  all  the  luxuries  of  the 
world  at  his  command,  he  was  obliged  to  live  principally  upon 
oatmeal  and  milk. 

Later  in  his  youth,  his  ambition  soared  above  apples.  He 
was  beginning  to  get  a  little  more  money  than  he  absolutely 
needed,  and  was  able  occasionally  to  indulge  in  a  ride.  He 
then  thought  that  if  he  could  ever  own  a  horse  fast  enough  to 
pass  every  thing  on  the  road,  and  take  no  man's  dust,  he  should 
be  the  proudest  and  the  happiest  of"  men. 

"  Well,"  he  continued,  "  I  have  a  horse  that  I  think  is  the 
fastest  in  my  county;  but  I  never  drive  him.  I  gave  him  to  my 
son  last  summer,  and  for  my  own  use  I  keep  an  old  plug  that 
jogs  along  six  miles  an  hour  without  my  troubling  myself 
about  him." 

At  this  point,  our  poor  Successful  Man  wearily  took  out  his 
watch  to  see  how  tirrie  was  getting  on,  and  we  observed  that 
the  watch  was  of  a  peculiar  pattern  rarely  seen  in  this  country. 

"This  watch,"  said  he,  "is  another  case  in  point.  One  of 
my  young  ambitions  was  to  possess  as  good  a  watch  as  mortal 
man  could  make.  I  have  one.  I  gave  $600  in  gold  for  it,  at  a 
time  when  gold  was  a  more  expensive  article  than  it  is  now. 
But  knocking  about  the  world  in  sleeping-cars  and  Mediterra- 
nean steamboats,  I  was  always  a  little  anxious  for  the  safety  of 
my  watch;  and  besides,  the  possession  of  so  costly  an  article 
7 


98  YOUTHS'  DEPARTMENT. 

by  a  traveler  is  a  temptation  to  robbers.  One  day  in  Paris  I 
noticed  in  a  shop-window  this  curious  little  watch,  marked 
twenty-five  francs.  A  five-dollar  watch  was  a  novelty,  and  I 
bought  it.  I  deposited  my  six-hundred  dollar  timekeeper  with 
my  banker,  and  it  has  been  ever  since  in  an  iron  safe.  I  find 
that  this  little  watch  keeps  time  as  well,  for  all  the  ordinary 
purposes  of  life,  as  the  other,  and  have  carried  it  ever  since." 

The  Successful  Man  said  these  things  with  what  we  mav 
call  a  good-humored  despair.  He  made  no  complaint;  but  at 
the  age  when  he  ought  to  be  in  the  full  tide  of  cheerful  activity, 
he  appeared  to  have  exhausted  life. 

Years  ago,  there  lived  in  the  interior  of  New  York  a  boy, 
the  son  of  a  farmer,  who  also  worked  at  the  trade  of  a  potter. 
The  boy  was  a  marked  youth,  because  he  would  do  with  might 
whatever  he  undertook.  He  was  a  leader  in  the  ordinary  sports 
of  boyhood,  and  whenever  the  farm  or  the  pottery  relaxed  their 
hold  upon  him,  he  would  be  found  repairing  some  damaged 
article,  or  devising  a  new  implement. 

His  father  was  poor;  the  farm  was  small,  and  could  only  be 
enlarged  by  clearing  up  the  primeval  forest.  The  boy  vs^as 
anxious  to  acquire  knowledge,  but  his  services  were  so  neces- 
sary to  his  father  that  he  could  not  be  spared  to  attend  the  win- 
ter term  of  the  common  school. 

But  the  boy  was  in  earnest.  With  the  aid  of  his  brother,  one 
year  his  junior,  he  chopped  and  cleared  four  acres  of  birch  and 
maple  woodland,  plowed  it,  planted  it  with  corn,  hai-vested 
the  crops,  and  then  asked,  as  his  compensation,  to  be  allowed 
to  attend  school  during  the  winter.  Of  course,  the  father 
granted 'his  wish. 

When  the  boy  was  seventeen,  the  father's  pottery  business 
had  so  increased  as  to  demand  a  more  extensive  factory.  A 
carpenter  was  hired  to  build  the  new  building,  and  the  boy 
assisted  him. 

So  familiar  did  he  become  with  the  tools  and  the  trade,  that 
he  determined,  with  the  aid  of  the  younger  brother,  to  erect  a 
two-story  frame  dwellipg-house  for  his  father's  family. 

The  two  boys  cut  the  timber  from  the  forest,  planned  and 
framed  the  structure,  and  then  invited  the  neighbors  to  assist  at 


RULES  FOR  BOYS  AND  GIRLS.  99 

the  "raising."  They  came  from  far  and  near  to  see  what  a  lad 
of  seventeen  had  done.  When  every  mortise  and  tenon  was 
formed  to  fit  its  place,  and  the  frame  was  seen  to  stand  perfect 
and  secure,  the  veterans  cheered  the  young  architect  and 
builder.  From  that  day  he  was  in  demand  as  a  master-car- 
penter. 

That  boy  was  Ezra  Cornell,  the  founder  of  Cornell  University. 

"Seest  thou  a  man  diligent  in  his  business?  he  shall  stand  be- 
fore kings;  he  shall  not  stand  before  obscure  men." 

The  meaning  of  this  old  proverb  is  that  the  man  who  has 
done  well  in  little  things  shall  be  advanced  so  that  he  shall  not 
waste  himself  on  work  to  which  obscure  men  are  adequate. 
JEzra  Cornell  illustrated  the  truth  of  the  Oriental  saying. 

fl  J^I^OPHEGY. 
While  sensible  people  put  no  faith  in  fortune-telling,  we  may, 
on  general  principles,  predict  from  a  boy's  habits  whether  he 
is  likely  to  succeed  or  fail  in  life.  When  money  burns  in  his 
pocket,  and  he  is  impatient  to  spend  all  that  comes  into  his 
possession;  when  he  spends  every  cent  of  his  salary,  and  even 
falls  into  debt;  when  he  prefers  to  invest  his  earnings  in  cigars, 
handsome  clothes,  and  amusements,  to  putting  them  at  interest, 
we  may  safely  predict  that  he  will  probably  never  attain  wealth 
without  a  decided  change  of  habits.  Fifty  cents  a  week  saved 
in  youth  is  often  the  nucleus  of  a  large  fortune. 

I^ULES  BOY{  Boys  and  Gii^ls. 

1.  Never  call  a  person  up-stairs,  or  in  the  next  room;  if  you 
wish  to  speak  to  them,  go  quietly  where  they  are. 

2.  Always  speak  kindly  and  politely  to  the  servants,  if  you 
would  have  them  do  the  same  to  you. 

3.  When  told  to  do  or  not  to  do  a  thing  by  eithef  parent, 
never  ask  why  you  should  or  should  not  do  it. 

4.  Tell  your  own  faults  and  misdoings,  not  those  of  your 
brothers  and  sisters. 

5.  Be  prompt  at  every  meal-hour. 

6.  Never  interrupt  any  conversation,  but  wait  patiently  your 
turn  to  speak. 

7.  Never  reserve  your  good  manners  for  company,  but  be 
equally  polite  at  home  and  abroad. 


100  YOUTHS'  DEPARTMENT. 

fiDYIGB   JFO  A  yoUNG   0)AN. 


BURDETTE. 


My  son,  you  will  soon  learn  that  the  only  really  great  sins  are 
the  ones  you  have  not  committed.    If  the  "  man  without  sin  "  had 
been  a  possibility,  the  stone  which  he  would  have  cast  at  the 
woman  taken  in  adultery  would  have  been  a  pebble,  and  even 
in  casting  it  he  would  have  made  an  effort  to  thro\v  too  high, 
and  so  miss  the  culprit.     But  any  one  of  the  Pharisees,  hypo- 
crites, money-changers,  extortioners,  usurers,  liars,  knaves  of 
various  degree,  standing  about  her  was  ready,  willing,  and  anx- 
ious to  fire  a  whole  brick-yard  at  her.     I  think,  indeed,  old  men 
are  more  charitable  always  than  young  people.     As  the  years 
go  on,  and  yoin*  temptations  are  more  varied,  your  faults  and 
stumbles  more  numerous — as  your  own  wickedness  takes  on  a 
little  wider  scope — you  will  cease  to  thank  God  that  you  are  not 
as  other  men  are,  and  will  be  surprised  to  learn  how  much 
people  are  like  other  people,  and  how  greatly  do  people  resem- 
ble each  other,  and  your  sympathies  and  charities  will  grow 
broader  together.     Youth  is  very  impetuous  alike  in  its  faults 
and  judgments.     You  will  be  able  to  see  the  mote  in  your 
brother's  eye  until  you  begin  wearing  spectacles.     At  twenty- 
one  you  will  forgive  your  brother  if  he  offend  you  one  time, 
provided  he  plead  for  your  forgiveness  with  ample  apologies 
and   promises   of  reformation;    at   forty  3-ou  may  forgive  him 
seven  times,  and  at  sixty,  having  uncounted   times  tasted  the 
sweetness  of  infinite  forgiveness  yourself,  you  may  be  able  to 
forgive  him  until  "  seventy  times  seven."'     It  is  all  well  enough 
for  you  now  to  say,  "Away  with  him!"  every  time  a  culprit  is 
brought  in  fear  and  trembling  before  the  bar  of  your  judgment; 
when  you  have  walked  over  the  burning  plowshares  yourself, 
your  voice  will  be  more  ready  to  pardon.    Just  now  you  be- 
lieve in  the  spotless  beauty  of  blind,  unswerving  justice,  and 
so  you  find  your  fellow-servant  which  owes  you  one  hundred 
pence,  and  lay  hold  of  his  throat  and  shout,  "  Pay  me  that  thou 
owest!"  and  cast  him  into  prison  because  he  cannot.     But  by 
and  by,  when  you  strike  a  balance-sheet  with  your  Lord,  and 
see  that  you  owe  him   one  hundred   pounds,  and  haven't  an 
ounce  of  silver  or  gold  in  all  the  world,  you  will  go  back,  throw 


ADVICE  TO  A   YOUNG  MAN.  101 

open  the  prison-doors  so  wide  that  the  sunhght  of  mercy  and 
charity  will  go  streaming  down  the  long  corridors  into  every 
cell.  I  wish  you  would  cultivate  this  virtue  of  charity  a  little 
more  while  you  are  young.  I  wish  you  could  see  how  beauti- 
ful it  is  before  your  eyes  are  washed  clear  with  your  own  tears. 
It  would  make  your  young  manhood  grander,  for 

"Not  the  king's  crown,  nor  the  deputed  sword, 
The  marshal's  truncheon,  nor  the  judge's  robe. 
Become  them  with  one-half  so  good  a  grace," 
And  furthermore,  my  boy,  if  you  are  looking  around  for 
some  one  to  punish  for  broken  laws,  if  you  are  seeking  a  "  hor- 
rible example"  with  which  to  illustrate  your  lecture  or  sermon, 
■don't  go  down  into  the  slums  to  look  for  him.  Don't  look 
about  your  congregation  or  the  community  for  some  unfortu- 
nate whose  struggles  and  temptations  and  falls  will  point  the 
moral  you  seek  to  enforce.  Just  look  for  the  "horrible  exam- 
ple" right  on  the  platform  where  you  are  standing  alone.  Look 
for  him  in  your  own  pulpit,  my  boy.  If  you  can't  find  as  great 
a  sinner  there  as  is  necessary  to  illustrate  the  beauty,  the  conde- 
scension, the  inconceivable  grandeur  of  dying  love  and  infinite 
grace,  come  right  down  out  of  the  pulpit.  You've  no  business 
on  the  rostrum.  If  all  the  sinners  vou  know  are  down  in  the 
congregation,  you're  too  good  for  this  world,  my  boy.  Heaven 
is  your  home,  and  I  am  afraid  you  will  feel  a  little  lonesome 
even  there  when  you  learn  that  a  most  excellent  minister  of  the 
gospel  named  Paul  once  rated  himself  below  Frank  Rande  and 
Billy  McGlory.  Before  you  go  hunting  around  for  a  "horrible 
example,"  my  boy,  go  away  into  some  solitary  place  by  your- 
self, sit  down  and  ask  yourself  some  hard  questions  about  your- 
self, and  answer  them  like  a  man;  and  then,  if  you  find  you  are 
too  good  to  "horrible  example"  your  own  lecture  and  sermon, 
send  for  me,  and  I  will  come  up  on  the  platform  beside  you 
and, pose  for  any  thing  impressively  and  dreadfully  wicked  that 
you  may  wish.  Once  in  awhile,  my  boy,  I  have  occasion  to  use 
a  "horrible  example"  myself.  But  I  never  pick  him  out  of  the 
congregation,  my  boy — never. 

In  all  things  throughout  the  world  the  men  who  look  for  the 
crooked  will  see  the  crooked,  and  the  men  who  look  straight 
will  see  the  straieht. 


102  YOUTHS'  DEPARTMENT. 

P    ©I^AGTIGAL  elOI^E. 

The  mischief  that  thoughtless  boys  sometimes  do  by  their 
practical  jokes  is  immeasurable,  and  as  often  unknown  to  them. 
A  while  since,  a  lady  was  conversing  with  a  dear  friend,  who 
made  the  remark  that  she  had  "never  been  the  same  person 
since  her  fall." 

The  lady  answered  that  she  had  never  been  informed  in  re- 
gard to  any  injury  from  which  she  was  suffering. 

"I  thought  I  had  told  you,"  she  replied.  "It  happened 
twenty  years  ago.  You  noticed  the  scar  upon  my  forehead? 
It  was  from  the  wound  I  then  received.  We  were  moving,  and 
I  went  out  in  great  haste,  and  was  walking  very  briskly,  when 
I  stumbled  over  a  cord  that  some  boys  had  fastened  across  the 
street  where  the  workmen  were  repairing  the  gas-pipes.  I  fell 
directly  into  the  trench,  striking  upon  my  forehead  and  also 
breaking  my  left  ai'm  in  three  places,  so  that  the  bone  pierced 
through  the  flesh.  I  was  taken  up  senseless,  the  blood  stream- 
ing from  my  mouth,  nostrils,  and  ears;  and  as  we  were  in  a 
new  neighborhood,  no  one  recognized  me,  and  I  was  taken  to 
a  saloon  near  by  and  seated  in  a  chair  upon  the  sidewalk.  Of 
course,  I  was  surrounded  by  a  curious  crowd,  among  w^hom 
came  a  poor  old  woman  wnom  I  had  befriended  in  her  pov- 
erty. Thi^ough  her  exertions  my  husband  was  found,  and  I 
was  taken  home.  Several  physicians  were  summoned,  all  of 
whom  advised  that  I  be  allowed  to  die  in  peace,  my  injuries  be- 
ing considered  fatal.  But  at  the  entreaties  of  my  husband  and 
friends  operations  were  performed,  and,  as  I  lived  through 
them,  the  physicians  took  courage.  At  four  different  times  the 
probes  were  introduced  into  the  forehead  to  relieve  the  pressure 
upon  the  brain.  As  the  use  of  chloroform  was  then  unknown, 
I  had  to  endure  to  the  uttermost  the  excruciating  torture  the 
operations  inflicted.  I  was  insane  for  weeks,  and  it  was  three 
months  between  the  first  and  last  operations.  So  you  can 
judge  of  the  extent  of  my  sufferings." 

"  Since  you  make  no  allusion  to  the  broken  arm,"  said  the 
lady-friend,  "I  infer  that  it  gave  you  less  trouble  than  your 
head." 

"  My  arm  healed  very  well,  but  has  been  comparatively  use- 
less since.     I  was  formerly  a  fine  pianist,  but  since  the  fall  can- 


NOBLY  DONE.  103 

not  use  my  hand  at  the  piano,  and  it  is  so  weak  that  it  is  of 
little  use  for  most  practical  purposes." 

"Were  the  boys  ever  discovered?"  inquired  her  visitor. 

"  No.  A  reward  of  one  hundred  dollars  was  offered,  but  they 
were  not  found.  Possibly  they  never  knew  the  evil  their 
thoughtlessness  caused.  But  that  little  cord  across  my  path 
has  already  caused  me  twenty  years  of  suffering,  for  I  have 
not  seen  a  well  day  since." 

Now,  boys,  you  who  have  read  this  incident,  pause  and  ask 
yourselves  if  you  were  ever  guilty  of  a  thoughtless  deed  like  this. 
It  is  not  by  any  means  an  uncommon  thing  for  boys  to  do  in 
the  city,  this  stretching  of  cords  across  the  sidewalks;  and  we 
have  known  several  people  to  be  injured  by  them. 

Let  this  unfortunate  lady's  experience  be  a  warning  against 
all  practical  jokes  that  are  liable  to  inflict  injury.  Many  boys 
do  not  distinguish  between  mischief  and  fun.  Whatever  can 
injure  another  is  mischief.  Humanely  speaking,  death  would 
have  been  preferable  to  the  fearful  pain  and  life-long  suffering 
caused  by  the  boys  who  inflicted  such  injuries  upon  that  lady. 
.  I  might  tell  you  how  beautiful  she  wa?  at  the  time  of  her  fall; 
how  happy  as  a  young  bride;  how  kind,  and  benevolent,  and 
Christian  she  still  is;  how  specially  tender  toward  'children; 
and  what  a  friend  to  the  poor.  And  yet  all  her  life  has  been 
embittered  by  mischievous  boys. 

HoBiiY  Done. 

Durmg  the  intensely  cold  weather  of  last  January  a  party  of 
boys  were  skating  and  coasting  on  the  Schuylkill,  at  the  point 
where  it  divides  the  city  of  Philadelphia  in  two. 

One,  a  poor  lad  of  sixteen  years,  named  John  Hagan,  had  a 
large  sled,  which  was  the  envy  of  all  the  other  boys.  He  lent 
it  to  one  party  after  another,  and  sat  on  the  bank  watching 
them  with  good-humored  satisfaction,  while  they  coasted  down 
the  bank  and  almost  across  the  river.  At  last,  as  evening  was 
gathering,  he  rose  to  go  home,  but  the  boys  pleaded  for  one 
coast  more. 

Ten  of  them  crowded  upon  the  huge  sled.  It  dashed  down 
the  bank  and  out  upon  the  frozen  river.  There  was  a  sliarp 
crack,  a  shriek  that  rent  the  air,  and  a  huge  black  gap  aj^peared 


104  YOUTHS'  DEPARTMENT. 

in  the  white  sheet  of  ice,  on  wliich  a  struggling  mass  was  dimly 
seen  for  a  moment.  Then  it  disappeared  in  the  dark,  rushing 
current. 

The  crowd  of  skaters  and  spectators  on  the  bank  stood  par- 
alyzed with  terror.  Only  John  Hagan  kept  his  senses.  He 
plunged  into  the  sw^ift  flood,  groped  under  the  ice  for  the 
drowning  boys,  and  dragged  them  one  by  one  to  the  edge  of 
the  hole,  where  men  now  stood  I'eady  to  receive  them.  At 
last,  when  nine  had  thus  been  rescued,  Hagan  himself  was 
taken  out  insensible  and  carried  to  his  home. 

"Did  I  get  them  all?"  were  his  first  words  when  he  was 
restored  to  consciousness.  No  one  told  him  initil  the  next 
day,  when  he  was  quite  out  of  danger,  that  one  little  fellow 
was  lost. 

Now,  it  happened  that  on  that  very  night  a  leap-year  ball 
was  given  in  the  neighborhood  of  the  accident.  The  young 
ladies  who  went  to  it  wore  men's  dress-coats,  collars,  etc., 
and  the  young  men  (some  of  the  most  wealthy  and  fashionable 
in  the  city)  imitated  feminine  costume  and  manners.  Some  of 
them  wore  women's  full  dress,  with  sweeping  brocade  traiijs, 
and  bracelets  on  their  bare  arms. 

It  was  but  a  passing  freak,  and  should  not  be  harshh'  judged; 
but  what  a  contrast  between  one  of  these  lisping,  bejeweled, 
beribboned  young  men,  and  poor  Hagan,  struggling  in  the  icy 
flood  and  night!  Yet  Hagan  was  an  illiterate  laborer,  whom 
these  lads  would  have  regarded,  had  they  met  him  on  the  street, 
as  one  of  the  lowest  types  of  manhood. 

The  meaning  of  the  contrast  is  that  fortune,  rank,  manners, 
and  even  education,  are  but  the  outer  garments  with  which 
circumstances  envelop  the  soul.  We  shall  never  find  the  true 
man  if  we  do  not  learn  to  look  through  and  beneath  them  all. 
Our  boy-i*eaders  will  be  glad  to  know  that  a  subscription  of 
over  a  thousand  dollars  was  raised  for  brave  young  Hagan,  and 
that  he  asked  that  it  might  be  spent  in  giving  him  three  years' 
education.  He  had  the  good  sense  to  see  that  even  a  noble  soul 
is  stronger  when  it  is  nobly  clothed. 

"Make  my  son  a  gentleman,"  said  a  woman  to  King  James 
of  Scotland.  "I  can  make  him  a  lord,  if  you  wish,  but  I  can- 
not make  him  a  eentleman." 


WHO  ARE  YOUR  ASSOCIATES?  105 

^HO  fll^B  yOUl^  flSSOGIAiPES? 

Allen  Winfield  lived  next  door  to  the  school-house.  So  he 
used  to  work  until  quarter  before  nine  every  morning,  and  then 
■expeditiously  change  his  w^orking  garb  for  a  neat  school-suit, 
which  made  him  look  like  a  new  boy. 

"  I  wouldn't  be  digging  away  there  so  every  morning,"  said 
Hugh  Rogers,  as  he  lounged  over  the  garden-fence  about  eight 
o'clock.     "  I  am  going  over  to  school  to  have  some  fun." 

"The  teacher  does  not  like  to  have  us  come  much  before 
school-time,"  said  Allen,"  and  I  take  more  pleasure  in  seeing 
these  things  come  on  so  well  in  the  garden  than  in  a  game  of 
ball,  even  though  I  like  that  well  enough,  too." 

"Well,  you  have  a  curious  taste,"  said  the  lounger,  as  he 
sauntered  on  to  join  a  company  of  like-minded  lads,  who 
ihought  play  the  main  business  of  life. 

Mother  was  sure  to  call  Allen  the  moment  he  desired. 

"Don't  be  late,  Allen,"  she  said,  glancing  at  the  clock,  which 
said  one  minute  of  nine. 

"Never  fear,  mother,"  said  the  lad,  fastening  the  last  button 
of  his  jacket,  "  the  teacher  has  just  passed.  I  will  be  there  as 
soon  as  he."  And  giving  his  mother  a  hasty  good-by  kiss,  he 
bounded  down  the  steps,  and  in  another  minute  was  in  his  seat 
at  school. 

Allen's  companions  were  quickly  seen,  let  him  be  where  he 
■would.  They  were  always  the  best  boys  and  the  best  scholars 
in  the  school,  no  matter  whether  they  wore  broadcloth  or  home- 
.spun.  A  noble-hearted  mother  had  taught  him  from  childhood 
that  character,  not  clothes,  was  the  standard  by  which  to  meas- 
ure people.  Nowhere  more  than  at  school  is  the  old  adage  true 
about  "  birds  of  a  feather."  At  recess  you  would  see  Allen  one 
of  a  knot  of  boys  who  are  talking  intelligently  over  lessons  or 
matters  of  improvement,  or  joining  heartily  in  bracing,  manly 
sports. 

Hugh,  just  as  regularly,  gravitated  toward  a  very  different 
circle.  They  were  the  tricky  boys,  those  who  always  kept  the 
teacher  on  the  alert  nipping  in  the  bud  their  plans  of  mischief, 
or  correcting  them  for  misdemeanors.  They  got  little  profit 
out  of  their  excellent  advantages  for  obtaining  an  education. 

Now,  cannot  any  one  easily  fancy  the  future  history  of  those 


106  YOUTHS'  DEPARTMENT. 

two  boys?  One  sinking  lower  and  lower,  led  on  by  evil  asso- 
ciates into  rounds  of  dissipation,  beginning  at  the  drinking 
saloon;  the  other  rising  to  a  noble,  prosperous  manhood,  to  take 
the  responsible  positions  of  honor  in  society. 

"He  that  walketh  with  wise  men  shall  be  wise."  A  young 
man's  whole  future  life  depends  largely  upon  the  associates  he 
chooses. 

Senator  Henry  Wilson  was  a  self-controlled  as  well  as  a  self- 
made  man.  He  left  his  New  Hampshire  home  early  in  life,  and 
changed  his  name  in  order  to  get  out  from  the  baneful  shadow 
of  intemperance.  He  began  at  the  lowest  round  of  the  social 
ladder,  and  climbed  up,  rung  by  rung,  until  he  became  a  polit- 
ical power  in  the  Nation. 

The  first  step  he  took  in  the  ascent  placed  him  on  the  pledge 
never  to  drink  intoxicating  liquors;  the  second  step  made  him 
an  industrious  laborer;  the  third,  a  diligent  reader. 

He  was  sent  to  Washington  to  carry  a  petition  against  the  ad- 
mission of  Texas  into  the  Union.  John  Qiiincy  Adams  asked 
him  to  a  dinner  party,  where  he  met  with  some  of  the  great 
men  of  the  Nation.  He  was  asked  to  drink  wine.  The  temp- 
tation to  lay  aside  his  temperance  principle  for  a  moment,  in 
order  not  to  seem  singular,  was  a  strong  one;  but  he  resisted  it,, 
and  declined  the  glass  of  wine.  Mr.  Adams  commended  him 
for  his  adherence  to  his  convictions. 

After  Mr.  Wilson  was  elected  to  the  United  States  Senate,  he 
gave  h  s  friends  a  dinner  at  a  noted  Boston  hotel.  The  table 
was  set  with  not  a  wine-glass  on  it. 

"Where  are  the  wine-glasses?"  asked  several,  loud  enough 
to  remind  their  host  that  some  of  the  guests  did  not  like  sittino" 
down  to  a  wineless  dinner. 

"Gentlemen,"  said  Mr,  Wilson,  rising,  and  speaking  with  a 
great  deal  of  feeling,  "you  know  my  friendship  for  you,  and 
my  obligations  to  you.  Great  as  they  are,  they  are  not  great 
enough  to  make  me  forget  'the  rock  whence  I  was  hewn  and 
the  pit  from  which  I  was  dug.'  Some  of  you  know  how  the 
curse  of  intemperance  overshadowed  my  youth.  That  I  might 
escape,  I  fled  from  my  early  surroundings  and  changed  my 
name.     For  what  I  am  I  am  indebted,  under  God,  to  my  tem- 


LEARN  TO  SWIM.  107 

perance  vow  and  to  my  adherence  to  it.  Call  for  what  you 
want  to  eat,  and,  if  this  hotel  can  provide  it,  it  shall  be  forth- 
coming. But  wines  and  liquors  cannot  come  upon  this  table 
with  my  consent,  because  I  will  not  spread  in  the  path  of  an- 
other the  snare  from  which  I  have  escaped." 

Three  rousing  cheers  showed  the  brave  Senator  that  men  ad- 
mired the  man  who  had  the  courage  of  his  convictions. 

IxBAi^N  TO  Swim. 

Every  healthy  boy  and  girl  can  learn  to  swim.  Lfit  me  tell 
you  how  I  learned.  In  learning  to  swim  there  are  just  two 
things  to  acquire.  First,  confidence  in  tiie  water;  second, 
proper  motion  in  the  water.  First,  learn  to  think  of  the  water, 
not  as  a  monster,  ready  to  devour  all  that  may  approach  it,  but 
rather  look  upon  it  as  a  willing  servant  or  a  playful  companion, 
ready  to  serve  or  save,  and  ready  to  afford  you  all  manner  of 
delight.  Then  learn  to  move  the  hands  and  feet  in  the  right 
way. 

Some  persons  reverse  this  order,  and  try  to  secure  the  proper 
motion  first.  This  they  do  by  using  corks,  or  life-preservers,  or 
any  thing  that  will  hold  them  up  while  they  get  the  stroke,  or 
catch  the  exact  movement.  Thousands  have  learned  in  this 
way.  It  is  not  the  best;  for  such  have  to  learn  over  again  when 
they  try  to  swim  without  these  helps. 

A  better  way,  especially  for  the  girls,  is  to  have  some  friend, 
who  will  place  the  hand  under  the  chin  of  the  learner,  and 
gradually  remove  the  help  as  the  person  learns  to  do  without  it. 

If  you  choose,  this  method — of  learning  the  proper  motion 
first — you  need  only  to  remember  this  single  rule:  always  thrust 
out  the  hands  and.  feet  at  the  same  time.  In  the  recovery,  when 
you  draw  in  the  feet  and  hands,  do  it  slowly;  then,  with  a  sud- 
den push,  stretch  your^lf  out  as  far  as  your  feet  and  hands  can 
reach,  keeping  them  close  together.  Any  good  swimmer  will 
show  you  how  this  is  done;  but  you  may  not  do  it  perfectly  the 
first  time. 

I  began  the  other  way — gaining  confidence  first,  the  proper 
motion  afterward.  Most  persons  are  afraid  of  the  water,  es- 
pecially when  they  sink  beneath  its  surface.  Those  learning 
to  swim  are  apt  to  carry  the  head  and  body  too  far  out  of  the 
water. 


108  YOUTHS'  DEPAHTMENT. 

To  gain  this  confidence,  then,  I  first  of  all  accustomed  myself 
to  remain  under  water  as  long  as  I  could  hold  my  breath.  In 
this  way  I  lost  all  fear.  Afterward,  when  I  was  learning  the 
proper  motion,  if  I  sank  up  to  my  mouth,  and  almost  to  my 
eyes,  it  didn't  frighten  me. 

Having  gained  this  confidence,  then  I  took  a  very  easy  and 
natural  method'  of  learning  the  swimmer's  stroke.  I  began 
with  what  we  boys  called  scooping — i.  e.,  standing  on  a  rock,  or 
any  thing  a  foot  or  two  below  the  surface.  I  stooped  down 
until  thejkvater  came  to  the  chin,  than  gave  a  sudden  push,  with 
the  hands  stretched  out  before  me,  and  the  feet  straight  behind 
me,  the  hands  and  feet  together,  of  course,  thus  skimming  along 
the  surface. 

First  I  went  a  little  way,  until  I  reached  the  hand  of  my 
friend,  who  stood  ready  to  catch  me.  Then  he  stepped  back  a 
little  farther;  then  a  little  farther  still.  Thus  it  was  I  discovered 
the  buoyancy  of  the  water.  Then  I  took  my  first  stroke  while 
scooping,  then  another,  and  gradually  another,  until  I  proudly 
told  my  companions  the  next  day  that  I  could  swim  six  strokes. 
Adding  a  few  strokes  every  day,  in  a  short  time  I  was  swim- 
ming fearlessly  with  the  veterans.  You  can  all  do  the  same,  if 
you  will  try. 

Be  Shoi^ough. 

"  I  never  do  a  thing  thoroughly,"  Mary  said  to  me  the  other 
day.  She  had  just  been  competing  for  a  prize  in  composition. 
"  I  only  read  my  composition  once  after  I  wrote  it,  and  I  never 
practiced  it  in  the  chapel  at  all." 

She  was  naturally  far  more  gifted  than  Alice,  who  was  her 
principal  competitor.  Alice  wrote  and  rewrote  her  essay,  and 
practiced  it  again  and  again. 

The  day  came.  Alice  read  her  com]5osition  in  a  clear,  dis- 
tinct voice,  without  hesitation  or  lack  of  expression.  It  was 
condensed  and  well-written.  Mary's  could  not  be  heai'd  be- 
yond the  fifth  row  of  seats,  and  was  long  and  uninteresting.  , 
Alice  won  the  prize.  One  remembered,  and  the  other  forgot, 
that  trrth  so  trite,  but  so  aptly  put  by  Carlyle,  "  Genius  is  an 
immense  capacity  for  taking  trouble." 

One,  by  patient,  persistent  effort,  obtained  what  the  other  re- 
lied upon  her  natural  talent  to  win  for  her. 


NEVER  DESPOND.  109 

Whatever  you  do — whether  you  sweep  a  room,  or  make  a  cake, 
or  write  an  essay,  or  trim  a  hat,  or  read  a  hook — do  it  thoroughly. 
Have  a  high  standard  for  every  thing.  Not  alone  because  only 
thus  can  you  win  honor  and  distinction,  but  because  this  is  the 
only  honest,  right.  Christian  way  to  use  the  gifts  God  has  be- 
stowed upon  you.  To  be  honest  before  him  we  must  be 
thorough. 

•r^ow  jpo  050 i^K  Easily. 

Hard  work  can  never  be  made  thoroughly  easy;  but  it  can 
be  materially  lightened  by  systematic  planning.  If  you  go  to- 
work  methodically  and  free  from  excitement,  it  is  surprising 
how  much  you  can  accomplish.  There  is  scarcely  any  wear 
and  tear  of  your  constitution.  While  you  are  at  work,  devote 
yourself  to  it.  Concentrate  all  your  faculties  on  what  you  are 
doing.  Do  not  attempt  to  both  work  and  play  at  the  same 
time. 

It  was  a  shrewd  observation  of  Kirke  White,  the  gifted  poet, 
whose  early  death  adds  a  touch  of  melancholy  to  all  he  wrote, 
that  he  found  if  he  concentrated  his  whole  attention  on  the 
driest  book  he  had  to  study,,  it  soon  became  interesting,  and  in 
a  short  time  he  would  become  so  absorbed  as  to  turn  over  page 
after  page  xinconsciously  to  himself. 

Intensity  of  thought  is  not  exhausting  if  not  too  long  con- 
tinued; so  that  in  one  sense  he  who  works  hardest  accomplishes 
his  task  most  easily.  He  has  also  much  more  time  for  rest  and 
recreation.  Work  by  yourself,  free  from  interruption,  if  you 
can,  with  a  self-possessed  and  cheerful  spirit,  and  though  your 
work  be  hard  you  will  find  it  easy. 

Hbybi^  Despond. 

Keep  up  your  courage,  whatever  happens.  The  most  peril- 
ous hour  of  a  person's  life  is  when  he  is  tempted  to  despond.  The 
man  who  desponds  loses  all.  There  is  no  more  hope  of  him 
than  of  a  dead  man;  but  it  matters  not  how  poor  he  may  be, 
how  much  deserted  by  his  friends,  how  much  lost  to  the  world; 
if  he  only  keeps  up  his  courage,  holds  up  his  head,  works  up 
with  his  hands,  with  unconquerable  will  determines  to  be  and 
to  do  what  becomes  a  man,  all  will  be  well. 


110  YOUTHS'  BEPAETMENT. 

fl  Delusion. 


BY  THE  KEY.  O.  P.  FITZGERALD. 


It  is  a  prevalent  delusion  of  young  people  that  there  is  such 
a  thing  as  good-luck  as  distinguished  from  ill-luck!  There  is  no 
such  thing.  It  is  fully  and  eternally  true  that  no  person's  good 
fortune  can  really  rise  above  his  character  or  deserts.  The  con- 
trary belief  of  thousands  makes  of  them  hypocrites,  scoundrels, 
failures,  wrecks.  The  worship  of  the  goddess  of  luck  is  devil- 
worship.  In  the  imaginations  of  the  young  she — this  goddess — 
presides  not  only  over  the  gambling  table  and  the  stock-market, 
but  in  the  business  mart,  the  law  office,  the  political  arena,  and 
the  matrimonial  market.  Considering  the  chances  of  a  life-time, 
they  think  the  lightning  of  luck  must  strike  them  at  least  once. 
In  no  good  sense  is  it  true  that  there  is  any  such  thing  as  luck. 
From  a  superficial  view  there  seems  to  be  endless  diversitv  of 
good  and  evil  fortune — some  are  born  poor,  others  are  born 
rich;  some  are  strong,  others  are  weak;  some  die  early,  others 
live  long  lives;  one  falls  in  the  battle,  another  escapes;  one  toils 
hard  and  nearly  stai^ves  in  obscurity,  while  another  apparently 
has  only  to  wish  and  his  wishes  are  met.  This  is  on  the  surface. 
A  deeper  view  will  show  that  luck  goes  for  nothing  in  the 
problem  of  human  destiny,  which  depends  wholly  upon  char- 
acter. Every  one's  foi'tune  is  within.  Says  Emerson:  "For 
every  thing  worth  having  we  must  pay  the  price."  This  is  a 
true  saying,  all  the  apparently  successful  thieves,  quacks,  dema- 
gogues, cheats,  and  liars  of  every  shade  and  name  to  the  con- 
trary notwithstanding.  It  is  not  safe  to  trust  the  young'  man 
who  trusts  to  luck.  He  is  apt  to  be.  a  young  man  who  swindles 
his  employer,  neglects  to  pay  his  board-bill  and  washerwoman, 
and  brings  to  sorrow  and  disgrace  the  poor  girl  who  may  be 
foolish  enough  to  risk  her  luck  in  man-ying  him.  You  mav 
point  to  your  small  men  in  high  places,  your  mean  men  in 
places  that  ought  to  be  honorable  almost  everywhere,  and  claim 
that  they  are  lucky.  I  reply,  they  have  not  risen  above  them- 
selves; honor  refuses  to  crown  them;  but  though  associated 
with  poverty  and  defeat,  as  this  world  goes,  she  bends  over 
the  graves  of  martyred  heroes  and  places  upon  their  tombs  the 
amaranth  of  a  glorious  immortality. 


''DRAWING  trade:'  111 

"Dl^AWING  ©I^ADB." 

A  merchant  in  town  wants  a  clerk.  What  for?  Has  he 
more  business  than  he,  and  his  partner,  and  the  bright  boy 
reared  up  in  his  store,  can  attend  to?  O  no!  They  three  could 
do  twice  as  much  business  as  he  has;  indeed,  the  one  clerk 
could  do  it  all,  and  would  be  glad  of  the  opportunity  if  his 
wages  were  correspondingly  increased.  What,  then,  does  he 
want  another  clerk  for?  To  "draw  trade  from  the  country." 
He  keeps  his  former  clerk  on  small  wages,  and  casts  about  in 
his  mind  for  a  lad  in  the  country  who  is  popular,  has  a  good 
address,  and  is  extensively  connected.  He  is  not  long  in  find- 
ing one.  The  young  man,  allured  by  the  prospect  of  living  in 
town,  and  "seeing  things,"  and  wearing  good  clothes  every  day, 
readily  accepts  a  small  salary  and  moves  to  town.  What  comes 
of  this?  Some  things  always;  some  other  things  frequently. 
A  promising  boy  is  taken  from  the  field — his  plow  is  stopped 
forever;  a  producer  of  corn,  cotton,  wheat,  oats,  fruit,  milk,  but- 
ter, poultry,  and  all  other  kinds  of  farm  products,  is  drawn  to 
town  to  stay.  The  most  active  Sunday-school  scholar,  who  has 
done  most  to  keep  his  class  together  and  to  encourage  the  su- 
perintendent and  pastor,  is  drawn  oft',  and  leaves  the  little 
church  in  the  country  weak  and  discouraged.  He  adds  nothing 
to  the  volume  of  trade  in  town — that  is  lessened  by  whatever 
amount  he  would  have  produced  on  the  farm.  He  simply 
"draws"  trade  away  from  some  other  house  in  the  same  or 
neighboring  town  to  the  house  with  which  he  is  connected. 
The  competing  house  must  now  seek  to  recover  the  lost  trade 
by  getting  some  other  young  man  from  the  same  country  neigh- 
borhood. Thus  the  result  is,  two,  three,  or  four  young  men  are 
drawn  from  the  fields,  where  their  labors  were  productive  and 
remunerative,  to  town,  where  their  labor  adds  not  a  cent's  value 
to  any  thing.  The  whole  business  of  the  town  could  have  beeji 
done  as  well,  probably  better,  without  them.  Now,  of  the 
things  which  frequently  happen,  we  may  mention,  as  the  sad- 
dest of  all,  the  bright,  promising  boy  is  ruined.  He  is  there  to 
draw  trade;  competition  is  sharp,,  and,  to  succeed,  he  is  tempted 
to  hold  out  false  inducements  to  his  customers,  to  discredit  the 
competing  house,  to  become  "hail-fellow,  well  met,"  with  men 
from  his  neighborhood  whose  example  is  poison,  to  invite  them 


112  YOUTHS'  DEFARTMENT. 

to  places  of  amusement  and  worse  places.  He  has  no  promi- 
nence in  the  Church,  thinks  himself  of  no  importance  to  the 
town  Church,  assumes  to  be  slighted  by  the  pastor,  distrusts  the 
simple  heart-religion  of  his  boyhood,  and  goes  headlong  to  the 
devil.  If  his  course  be  not  so  downward  and  short,  in  forty- 
nine  cases  out  of  fifty  he  becomes  at  least  only  a  tolerable  mer- 
chant, his  life  being  more  of  a  failure  than  a  success.  "  Draw- 
ing trade"  has  drawn  him  from  a  useful  and  peaceful  vocation 
into  the  perils  and  troubles  of  an  unprofitable  life. 

Do  Something. 

A  certain  man  who  lost  his  property,  instead  of  sitting  down 
in  despair,  or  seeking  to  drown  his  family  troubles  in  strong 
drink,  went  out  on  the  street  and  agreed  to  do  the  first  work  he 
could  find.  It  was  shoveling  coal  into  a  cellar.  He  performed 
his  task  promptly  and  faithfully,  took  his  pay,  and  walked  on. 
In  a  short  time  he  was  on  his  feet  again  financially,  as  he  de- 
served to  be,  and  as  the  people  saw  he  was  worthy  of  being. 
The  following  advice  by  the  Christian  at  Work  is  to  the  point: 

"  It  was  a  monk  just  before  Luther's  day  who  said,  '  I  assure 
you,  my  hearers,  if  I  could  not  preach  I  should  be  proud  to 
make  shoes:  and  if  I  made  shoes,  if  I  could  help  it,  no  one 
should  make  a  better  pair  than  I.'  What  a  manly  thing  that 
was  to  say,  and  how  much  the  lesson  is  needed  to-day! 

"Look  at  that  young  girl  floundering  in  furbelows,  who 
thinks  her  highest  office  in  life  is  that  of  an  ornamental  do- 
nothing.  Look  at  that  young  man,  whose  father  can  scarcely 
provide  enough  food  for  his  table.  You  say  the  boy  ought  to  be 
doing  something,  but  instead  he  is  gadding  about  the  streets,  or 
flirting  with  young  misses,  pursuing  an  aimless,  enervating  life,, 
possessing  nothing  but  vacuity  and  resources.  Yet  these  ado- 
lescent do-nothings  never  think  to  change  their  case,  but  the 
weeks  slip  into  months,  and  the  months  into  years,  and  find 
them  growing  indeed,  but  growing  in  one  spot,  never  changing 
position,  drawing  a  measure  of  sustenance,  but  yielding  nothing- 
in  return.  They  speedily  become  as  pithy,  as  juiceless,  as 
worthless  as  a  last  year's  radish.  In  some  cases  this  is  owing  ta 
a  want  of  self-reliance;  but  in  very  many  it  is  the  result  of  a 
want  of  pride.     And  yet,  of  all  things,  these  young  fry  sup- 


FORGOT.  113 

pose  that  if  they  have  nothing  else  they  have  pride.  But  it  is 
the  very  thing  they  lack,  and  how  fearfully!  A  man  who  pos- 
sesses the  pride  born  of  true  nobility  and  manhood  is  not 
ashamed  to  turn  lijs  hand  to  honest  work,  but  he  is  ashamed  to 
be  a  pensioner  on  the  bounties  of  others.  Young  men  in  the 
vineyard,  go  to  work!  If  you  have  not  the  pride  and  the 
strength  of  character  of  the  monk  who  would  be  proud  to 
make  shoes,  at  least  put  your  hand  to  something,  and  go  to 
work.  Get  down  and  out  of  all  your  castles  in  the  air,  and 
earn  your  salt.  Stop  dreaming  about  grand  possibilities,  which 
in  your  case  are  only  glorious  impossibilities,  and  earn  your 
living  by  the  perspiration  of  your  eyebrows.  If  you  will  only 
believe  it,  the  world's  heroes  arc  not  chosen  from  the  world's 
do-nothings." 

For^GOT. 

Guessing  at  an  answer  is  a  lost  art  in  one  of  the  Boston  pub- 
lic schools.  The  pupils  are  trained  to  say,  frankly,  "I  don't 
know,"  when  they  don't  know.  The  training  is  beneficial  to 
the  pupil's  morals  and  intellect. 

The  late  eccentric  Professor' Sophocles,  of  Harvard  Univer- 
sity, tried  to  form  the  same  habit  in  his  students. 

One  day,  he  put  this  question  to  a  class  of  Freshmen  who 
were  making  a  poor  recitation  in  Greek  history:  "How  did,  the 
lions  get  into  the  Peloponnesus?" 

"  Why,  I  suppose  they  came  across  the  Isthmus  of  Corinth," 
said  one  student. 

"No,  sir.     Next." 

"  Well,  they  might  have  swam  over  the  gulf." 

"  No.     Next." 

"I  think  they  were  imported  there  by  the  Spartans  for  wild- 
beast  shows." 

"  Wrong.     Next." 

The  next  hazarded  a  still  wilder  guess,  and  the  next  made  a 
more  frightful  shot  than  an}'  who  preceded  him.  Professor 
Sophocles  looked  over  the  class  with  a  compassionate  glance, 
and  remarked,  slowly  and  dryly,  in  his  indescribable  manner, 
"Gentlemen,  there  are  no  lions  in  the  Peloponnesus!" 

This  anecdote  recalls  a  similar  scene,  one  that  occurred  some 
years  ago,  under  Professor  Harkness,  of  Brown   University. 


114  YOUTHS'  DEPARTMENT. 

The  question  under  discussion  was  the  exact  number  in  the 
Greek  chorus,  a  point  which  has  never  been  settled  by  scholars. 

Professor — "Mr.  S ,  how  many  persons  were  there  in  the 

Greek  chorus?" 

Mr.  S. — "  Well,  Professor,  I  did  know,  but  I  can't  remember 
now." 

Professor — "  What  a  pity  that  the  only  person  who  ever  knew 
has  forgotten ! " 

"Ho  Daddyism." 

In  that  West  to  which  Horace  Greeley  advised  young  men 
to  go  when  they  applied  to  him  for  counsel,  there  is  little  re- 
spect for  a  man's  ancestors.  Those  self-reliant  Westerners, 
each  one  of  whom  has  been  the  architect  of  his  own  fortune, 
thoroughly  believe  in  the  proverb,  "  Every  tub  must  stand  upon 
its  own  bottom.  ' 

Some  years  ago,  a  young  man  went  from  Boston  to  Chicago, 
where  he  sought  a  situation  as  clerk.  Meeting  with  an  elderly 
Bostonian,  who  was  passing  through  the  city  and  knew  him 
well,  he  sought  his  aid.  The  gentleman  went  in  person  to  a 
Chicago  merchant  and  highly  recommended  the  young  man. 

"He  belongs,"  said  lie,  "  to  one  of  the  oldest  of  Boston  fam- 
ilies; his  blood  is  the  bluest." 

"My  dear  sir,"  interrupted  the  merchant,  "that  cock  won't 
fight  in  this  city;  there's  no  daddyism  in  Chicago." 

It  was  in  a  wittier  strain  that  President  Lincoln  replied  to  a 
German  who,  during  the  war,  applied  to  him  for  an  officer's 
commission.  The  President  was  so  pleased  by  the  foreigner's 
address  and  intelligence,  that  he  promised  him  a  lieutenant's 
commission  in  a  cavalry  regiment.  The  applicant  was  profuse 
in  his  expressions  of  gratitude,  and  informed  the  President  that 
he  had  conferred  a  favor  upon  a  member  of  one  of  the  oldest 
of  the  noble  families  of  Germany. 

"O  never  mind  that,"  said  old  Abe,  with  a  characteristic 
smile.  "You'll  not  find  that  to  be  an  obstacle  to  your  promo- 
tion if  you  behave  yourself" 

It  is  strange  how  much  more  patience,  quietness,  and  skill  a 
boy  will  exhibit  when  fishing  for  trout  than  when  striving  for 
an  education. 


A  JAPANESE  ENGINEER  115 

If  a  man  would  appear  like  a  gentleman,  he  must  walk,  stand, 
and  sit  like  one.  In  walking  he  should,  above  all,  avoid  every 
thing  that  is  unnatural,  or  that  smacks  of  self-consciousness. 
How  often  do  we  see  men  in  the  street  whose  every  movement 
tells  us  their  minds  are  chiefly  on  themselves!  One  throws  his 
chest  out  a  la  dindon,  while  another  walks  with  an  abnormal 
stoop;  but  both  delight  in  a  kind  of  rolling,  swaggering  gait 
and  an  unnatural  swing  of  the  arms.  We  all  know,  when  we 
see  such  a  man,  no  matter  what  his  appearance  in  other  respects 
may  be,  that  he  is  a  person  of  low-breeding.  Not  only  is  a 
man's  walk  an  index  of  his  character  and  of  the  grade  of  his 
culture,  but  it  is  also  an  index  of  the  frame  of  mind  he  is  in. 
There  is  the  thoughtful  walk  and  the  thoughtless  walk,  the  re- 
sponsible walk  and  the  carelsss  walk,  the  worker's  and  the 
idler's  walk,  the  ingenuous  and  the  insidious  walk,  and  so  on. 
In  a  word,  what  there  is  in  us  we  all  carry  in  essentially  the 
same  way;  hence,  the  surest  way  to  have  the  carriage  of  gen- 
tility is  to  have  gentility  to  carry. 

fl  JAPANESE   €NGINEEI^. 

Mr.  T.  A.  Martsdaira,  the  new  city  engineer  of  Bradford,  Pa., 
is  a  native  of  Japan,  and-  the  first  man  of  his  nationality  to  be 
chosen  to  a  civil  office  in  the  United  States.  He  was  educated 
in  this  country  at  the  expense  of  his  father,  a  wealthy  Japanese 
nobleman,  and  upon  graduating  asked  consent  to  remain  a  few 
years  longer  to  practice  civil  engineering,  to  which  he  had  de- 
voted much  study  in  his  college  course.  His  father  replied  that 
unless  he  came  home  on  the" next  steamer  his  allowance  would 
cease,  and  he  need  expect  no  more  help  from  him.  The  son  re- 
plied that  he  would  stay,  and  the  father  became  angr}^  and 
wrote  to  his  Japanese  friends  to  have  nothing  to  do  with  the 
young  man.  He  stayed  and  practiced  his  profession,  acting  for 
some  time  as  assistant  engineer  of  the  Manhattan  Elevated 
Railroad  Company  in  New  York,  and  afterward  for  three 
years  as  chief  engineer  of  the  Union  Pacific  Railroad  in  Wy- 
oming, Idaho,  and  Montana.  When  elected  city  engineer  of 
Bradford  he  was  engaged  on  raih'oad  work  in  McKean  County, 
Pennsvlvania. 


116  youths'  defaetment. 

Be  Studious. 

Whitefield  was  poor,  and  in  "  service,"  but  he  managed  to  get 
education,  and  both  England  and  America  have  felt  his  power 
for  good.  William  Harvey  did  not  find  out  the  circulation  of 
the  human  blood  by  a  lucky  accident.  He  was  a  hard  student 
at  home  and  abroad,  and  taught  the  doctrine  to  his  classes  for 
ten  years  before  he  published  it  to  the  world. 

Young  men  ought  to  I'emember  that  there  are  still  splendid 
services  to  be  rendered.  All  the  discoveries  have  not  yet  been 
made.  The  field  is  now  the  world,  as  it  never  was  before.  The 
best  books  can  now  be  had  as  never  before.  Education  of  the 
highest  kind,  in  physiology,  mental  philosophy,  engineering, 
and  chemistry,  is  accessible  as  it  never  was  before.  An  empire 
without  an  emperor  has  grown  up  on  this  continent,  and  much 
of  the  soil  is  yet  without  occupant  and  master.  Other  empires 
are  open  to  educated  ability,  and  will  become  more  so  every 
year.     There  is  a  legitimate  sphere  for  splendid  ambition. 

LiiiriPLB  Things. 

More  depends  on  little  things  than  we  think.  It  is  said  that 
Voltaire,  when  five  years  old,  learned  an  infidel  poem,  and.  he 
was  never  able  to  free  himself  from  its  effects.  Scott,  the  com- 
mentator, when  despairing,  read  a  hymn  of  Dr.  Watts,  and  was 
turned  from  a  life  of  idleness  and  sin  to  one  of  usefulness. 
Cowper,  about  to  drown  himself,  wds  carried  the  wrong  way 
by  his  driver,  and  went  home  and  wrote,  "God  moves  in  a  mys- 
terious way."  The  rebuke  of  a  teacher  aroused  Dr.  Clarke  to 
great  action,  who  had  up  to  that  time  been  slow  in  acquiring 
knowledge.  Ole  Bull,  the  great  violinist,  rescued  from  suicide 
by  drowning  and  taken  to  the  near  residence  of  a  wealthy  lady, 
became  her  protege,  and  soon  acquired  fame.  Robert  Moffat, 
the  distinguished  missionary,  reading  a  placard  announcing  a 
missionary  meeting,  was  led  to  devote  himself  to  work  for  the 
heathen.  One  step  downward  often  leads  men  into  greatest 
guilt.  It  is  the  little  words  and  actions  that  make  and  mar  our 
lives. 

He  is  to  be  educated  because  he  is  a  man,  and  not  because  he 
is  to  make  shoes,  nails,  and  pins. 


A   USE  FOR  DEAD  LANGUAGES.  117 

Pl^IENDSHIPS. 

It  is  takirtg  tlie  care,  and  sorrow,  and  loss,  and  trouble  of  an- 
other as  if  they  were  your  own  that  makes  friendship;  it  is  put- 
ting our  souls  under  another  man's  soul  and  bearing  him,  as  it 
were.  One  goes  up  or  goes  down  with  the  other.  You  can't 
have  many  of  these  friendships — they  aro  too  costly;  there  is 
not  time  to  cultivate  many  of  them.  You  can  have  kindly  feel- 
ings toward  multitudes,  but  when  it  comes  to  the  matter  of 
serving,  and  when  your  conscience  is  another  man's  conscience, 
and  your  heart,  like  a  bell,  is  struck  every  time  that  he  is  in 
trouble,  it  is  about  as  much  as  you  can  do  to  take  care  of  that 
one  man.  When  one  really  loves,  there  is  a  carelessness  about 
one's  own  haj^piness,  a  sense  of  the  other's  growth;  there  is  a 
power  and  energy  put  forth  in  developing  the  life  of  the  loved 
one,  as  if  your  life  lay  in  it.     It  is  the  nature  of  love  to  serve. 

fl  Use  poi^  Dead  Lxanguages. 

The  following  extract  from  J.  T.  Trowbridge's  serial,  "The 
Scarlet  Tanager,"  in  the  St.  Nicholas  magazine,  is  a  clear  and 
simple  explanation  of  the  reasons  for  giving  to  flowers  and 
trees,  beasts,  birds,  and  fishes,  the  long  and,  to  many,  unintelli- 
gible Greek  and  Latin  names  they  all  bear: 

" '  But  I  can't  see  the  use  of  giving  Latin  and  Greek  names 
to  birds  and  things  nowadays,'  said  Gaspar. 

" '  Perhaps  I  can  explain  it  to  you,'  said  the  master..  '  Take 
the  picus  auratus,  for  instance.  We  have  seen  that  it  has  several 
common  names  —  one  of  which,  certainly,  belongs  to  another 
bird.  So,  if  a  person  speaks  of  a  yellow-hammer,  how  are  you 
to  know  whether  he  means  this  or  the  European  species.^  In 
ordinary  conversation  you  may  think  that  it  is  not  very  impor- 
tant; but  in  all  scientific  descriptions  it  is  necessary  that  such 
names  shall  be  used  as  cannpt  be  misunderstood.' 

" '  But  why  can't  men  of  science  agree  upon  English  names 
for  all  plants  and  animals?'  the  boy  inquired. 

" '  That  is  a  sensible  question.  The  answer  to  it  is  that  all 
men  of  science  are  not  English-speaking  people.  There  are 
German,  French,  Spanish,  Swedish,  Dutch,  Russian  ornithol- 
ogists (men  who  have  a  thorough  knowledge  of  birds),  and 
those  of  many  other  countries.     Now,  it  is  true  they  all  might 


118  YOUTHS'  DEPARTMENT. 

agree  upon  an  English  name  for  each  bird;  but  it  would  be  as 
unreasonable  for  us  to  expect  that  of  foreigners  as  we  would 
consider  it  if  we  were  all  required  to  learn  a  French  or  a  Dutch 
name.  It  really  seems  much  simpler  and  more  convenient  to 
use  Latin  and  Greek  names,  which  learned  inen  in  all  countries 
agree  upon  and  understand;  so  that  a  German  man  of  science 
will  know  just  w^hat  a  Spanish  man  of  science  is  writing  about, 
if  he  uses  correct  scientific  terms.  Now,  take  the  case  of  this 
very  bird.  A  Swedish  naturalist,  named  Linnasus,  who  was  a 
great  botanist,  and  classified  and  gave  scientific  names  to  plants, 
also  gave  names  to  many  birds — to  this  species,  I  suppose, 
among  others — so  that  when  the  picus  auratus  is  alluded  to  by 
any  writer  in  any  language,  ornithologists  know  just  what  bird 
is  meant.  So,  you  see,  these  scientific  terms  that  you  dislike 
fonn  a  sort  of  universal  language  understood  by  men  of  science 
the  woi'ld  over.' " 

gUSH. 

We  often  see  the  little  word  "Push"  on  the  swing-doors  of 
some  establishments,  and  it  suggests  the  thought  that  all  through 
life  we  need  to  keep  that  stirring  motion  urging  us  on.  Noth- 
ing is  done  without  "push"  nowadays.  No  man  in  any  capac- 
ity will  do  much  if  he  has  it  not.  We  are  not  speaking  of  im- 
pertinence and  ignorant  ambition,  but  of  an  earnest  sprightli- 
ness  of  character  which  makes  every  act  of  interest  and  the 
stepping-stone  to  something  better.  And  not  in  commerce 
only,  but  in  our  Church-life,  we  need  the  impulsive  principle. 

LiOOI^  OUT   POI^THB  UOIGE. 

You  often  hear  boys  and  girls  say  words  when  they  are 
vexed  that  sound  as  if  made  up  of  a  snarl,  a  whine,  and  a  bark. 
Such  a  voice  often  expi'esses  more  than  the  heart  feels.  Often, 
even  in  mirth,  one  gets  a  voice,  or  tone,  that  is  sharp,  and  it 
sticks  to  him  through  life.  Such  persons  get  a  sharp  voice  for 
home  use,  and  keep  their  best  voices  for  those  they  meet  else- 
where. I  would  say  to  all  boys  and  girls,  "Use  your  guest- 
voice  at  home."  Watch  it  day  by  day,  as  a  pearl  of  great  price, 
for  it  will  be  worth  more  to  you  than  the  best  pearl  in  the  sea. 
A  kind  voice  is  a  lark's  song  to  a  hearth  and  home.  Train  it  to 
sweet  tones  now,  and  it  will  keep  in  tune  through  life. 


BE  HONORABLE,  119 

She  Fii^sii  Booi^. 

"The  first  piece  of  money  I  ever  had,"  said  a  gentleman, 
showing  us  into  his  library,  "I  spent  for  a  book.  It  was  the 
Pilgrim's  Progress.  I  well  remember  how  pleased  I  was.  The 
pictures,  the  reading,  the  blank  leaves,  were  mine,  and  my  name 
was  written  on  one  of  the  blank  leaves  at  the  beginning.  Thai 
book  laid  the  foundation  of  my  library.  All  the  pennies  my 
uncle  gave  me  I  saved  for  books.  Every  book  I  bought  I 
longed  to  read,  and  that  prevented  my  time  as  well  as  my 
money  from  being  wasted;  for  the  books  which  I  bought  I 
consulted  old  friends  about,  and  they  were  worth  reading. 
And  I  would  say  to  every  boy  and  girl,  Do  not  foolishly  spend 
all  your  pocket-money  in  other  things,  but  lay  the  foundation 
of  a  good  Hbrary  with  it.  '  Good  books  are  wise  and  faithful 
companions.' " 

fiDYiGB  TO  A  Boy. 

Get  away  from  the  crowd  a  little  while  every  day,  my  dear 
boy.  Stand  to  one  side  and  let  the  world  r«n  by,  while  you 
get  acquainted  with  yourself,  and  see  what  kind  of  a  fellow 
you  are.  Ask  yourself  hard  questions  about  yourself;  ascertain 
from  original  sources  if  you  are  the  manner  of  man  people  say 
you  are;  find  out  if  you  are  always  honest;  if  your  life  is  as 
good  at  eleven  o'clock  at  night  as  it  is  at  noon;  if  you  are  as 
good  a  boy  when  you  go  to  Chicago  as  you  are  at  home;  if,  in 
short,  you  really  are  the  sort  of  a  young  man  your  father  hopes 
you  are,  or  your  mother  says  you  are. 

Get  on  intimate  terms  with  yourself,  my  boy,  and  believe  me, 
every  time  you  come  out  from  those  private  interviews  you  will 
be  a  stronger,  better,  purer  man. 

Don't  forget  this,  my  friend,  and  it  will  do  you  good. 

Be   I^ONOI^ABLB. 

Boys  and  young  men  sometimes  start  out  in  life  with  the  idea 
that  one's  success  depends  on  sharpness  and  chicanery.  They 
imagine  if  a  man  is  able  to  "get  the  best  of  a  bargain,''  no  mat- 
ter by  what  deceit  and  meanness  he  carries  his  point,  that  his 
prosperity  is  assured.  This  is  a  great  mistake.  Enduring  pros- 
perity cannot  be  founded  on  cunning  and  dishonesty.  The 
tricky  and  deceitful  man  is  sure  to  fall  a  victim,  sooner  or  later, 


120       •  YOUTHS'  DEPARTMENT. 

to  the  influences  which  are  forever  working  against  him.  The 
future  of  that  young  man  is  safe  who  eschews  every  shape  of 
double-deahng,  and  lays  the  foundation  of  his  career  in  the  en- 
during principles  of  everlasting  truth. 

DON'JP  Dawdle. 

The  word  "dawdle"'  means  to  "waste  time,"  to  "trifle." 
When  a  boy  does  a  thing  in  a  "poky,"  lazy  way,  he  "  dawdles" 
over  it. 

It  is  a  bad  thing  to  fall  into  a  dawdling  habit.  It  helps  to 
make  a  boy  unmanly,  and  a  girl  unwomanly.  The  dawdler's 
life  is  apt  to  be  a  failure.  He  does  little  for  himself  or  others. 
"In  books,  or  work,  or  healthful  play,"  he  doesn't  amount  to 
much. 

Don't  dawdle.  Do  things  with  a  will,  and  do  them  well. 
You  must  not  splutter  or  be  "fussy"  over  your  work.  The 
fussy  fellow  can  waste  time  in  his  haste  as  well  as  the  dawdler 
in  his  slow  trifling.  Have  a  quick  eye,  and  a  ready  hand,  and 
a  patient  heart,  always. 

If  you  have  an  hour  in  which  to  do  a  half-hour's  task,  do  it 
in  that  half-hour.  Get  through  on  time,  then  play  with  brisk- 
ness and  sparkling  enjoyment.  Do  your  errands  promptly. 
Brush  your  hair  with  a  lively  hand.  Sweep  your  room  with 
decision  in  every  motion  of  the  broom. 

Take  one  "degree"  in  a  useful  line  of  "D.D.'s" — Don't 
Dawdle. 

SiME  mo  Gi^ow  In. 

"HmTy  up!  Be  quick,  now!"  How  we  do  haVe  this  shot 
into  our  ears  from  every  quarter!  Before  our  hands  have  com- 
pleted what  they  are  about,  some  one  gives  us  a  nudge  and  a 
"hurry  up,  there!"  Hurry-scurry,  pell-mell,  goes  on  the  great 
rushing  world — no  time  for  this,  no  time  for  that — one  hand 
upon  the  last  thing  reached  for,  while  the  other  reaches  forward 
to  grasp  something  else.  Now,  stop  a  bit,  while  we  tell  you 
something  right  at  the  outset  of  life:  You  don't  want  to  be  ca- 
joled into  thinking  there  isn't  time  for  what  your  heart  tells  you 
you  would  like  to  work  out.  Time  is  your  own,  God-givCn; 
let  no  one  take  it  from  you.  Do  with  it  as  it  seems  best.  Let 
the  world  pass  on;  if  need  be,  it  can  live  without  you;  but  don't 
be  cheated  out  of  what  rightfully  belongs  to  you — time  to  grow  in. 


rajj—i^^'-xoi 


iDUgATlONAL  DEPARTMENT. 

Cdugaiiiion  is  nom  Booi^-lbarning. 


BY  W.  W.  BREESE. 


JIERE  are  various  ideas  as  to  what  con- 
stitutes an  education.  The  common  mean- 
ing attached  to  the  term  is  a  most  false  and 
unjust  one.  Getting  an  education,  as  com- 
monly appHed,  means  the  learning  out  of  books  a  few 
things  recorded  by  scholars.  Learning  to  repeat  the 
thoughts  of  other  people  is  not  the  object  of  an  edu- 
cation. It  is  only  the  work  of  preparation,  for  the 
process  of  educating  the  mind  has  not  yet  begun. 
You  might  as  well  call  the  snow,  the  rain,  the  cold 
and  the  heat  of  the  seasons  farming,  for  they  are  es- 
sential to  the  farmer's  success,  and  all  important  to 
his  crop.  But  if  nothing  else  is  done,  only  a  fine  crop 
of  weeds  is  produced.  Do  nothing  but  study  books, 
no  matter  how  vigorousl}^,  and  life  would  be  barren 
of  results,  of  great  use  to  mankind. 

It  is  a  sad  fact  that  nearly  as  many  "educated" 
fools  are  turned  out  of  our  colleges  as  useful  citizens; 
nor  is  it  the  fault,  in  most  cases,  of  the  college  faculty, 
as  so  many  would  have  it  appear.  The  fault  lies 
largely,  if  not  entirely,  at  the  door  of  the  parent  or 

(121) 


122  EDUCATIONAL  DEPARTMENT, 

guardian,  who  conceives  that  a  "  college  education  " 
is  an  "  open  sesame  "  to  honor,  wealth,  a  lazy  life,  and 
a  virtuous  death.  The  child  is  taught  from  its  cradle 
that  going  through  college  will  fit  him  for  any  position 
in  life,  and  insure  success  without  effort.  Alas!  what 
other  result  can  be  expected?  College  professors  can- 
not manufacture  brains,  nor  w^holly  eradicate  the  evils 
of  such  home-training. 

It  is  related  of  a  certain  man — who,  from  being  an 
ignorant,  poor  day-laborer,  was  suddenly  hoisted  to 
great  wealth — that  he  sent  his  daughter  to  a  popular 
college  for  young  ladies..  In  a  few  weeks  he  received 
a  message  from  the  president,  asking  him  to  call  at 
his  office  at  an  early  day.  When  the  man  arrived 
the  president  proceeded  in  a  kind  and  cautious  man-- 
ncr  to  advise  him  to  take  his  daughter  home  again. 
"  The  fact  is,"  he  concluded,  "  she  has  not  a  capacity 
for  study,  and  it  is  wasting  money  to  keep  her  here 
without  it."  "O!"  said  Mr.  Moneybags,  "if  that  is 
all,  buy  her  one  at  once!"  and  he  took  out  a  large 
roll  of  greenbacks,  prepared  to  pay  a  thousand  dol- 
lars, if  need  be,  for  a  "  capacity,"  which  he  regarded 
as  some  mysterious  part  of  a  scholar's  wardrobe. 

The  fact  is,  parents  (uneducated  parents  especially) 
seem  to  think  that  when  their  child  leaves  school,  he 
or  she  is  fully  fitted  to  become  a  "  boss,"  and  make  a 
living  without  stoopmg  to  the  details  of  common 
drudgery.  There  was  never  a  greater  error  incul- 
cated, amongst  the  vast  throng  of  errors  abroad  in 
the  world.  The  only  object  of  an  education,  as 
shown  by  actual  practice,  is  to  enable  one  to  be  of 
greater  use  to  the  world,  and  to  do  more  work  for 
the  world.     In   accomplishing  this  result  it  seldom 


ED UCA TION  IS  NOT  BOOK-LEARNING.        123 

happens  that  happiness  or  pleasure  increases  in  the 
same  ratio.  The  best  educated  and  most  useful 
people  are  far  from  being  the  most  happy  ones,  as  a 
rule. 

But  many  a  young  man  and  young  woman  graduate 
from  college  as  totally  ignorant,  uneducated,  and  fool- 
ish as  the  day  they  entered  the  institution.  They  are 
conceited,  full  of  silly  notions,  pufted  up,  and  offensive 
to  their  superiors.  Such  persons  are  far  from  having 
an  education,  although  they  may  hold  diplomas  from  a 
dozen  universities,  and  be  able  to  calculate  the  weight 
of  the  earth  to  the  fraction  of  an  ounce. 

Education  means  discipline  —  the  discipHne  and 
training  of  the  mind  first,  and  of  all  the  mental  Vacui- 
ties, including  the  heart  and  the  moral  nature,  in  the 
final  p^rt.  A  true  education,  perfect  polish,  and  exact 
touch  and  taste,  may  be  obtained  out  of  school,  but 
not  as  easily  nor  as  speedily  as  in  school.  Many  a 
well-educated  man  never  saw  the  inside  of  a  college. 

We  may  sum  up  the  whole  matter  in  a  phrase: 
Learning  to  be  accurate  is  getting  an  education  j  with- 
out accuracy  there  is  no  real  education. 

The  late  James  T.  Fields  once  gave  to  a  lot  of 
school-boys  a  homely,  forcible  illustration  of  the  ne- 
cessity of  accuracy.  He  likened  the  man  who  was 
"just  a  little  inaccurate"  in  his  statements  and  calcu- 
lations to  "  a  pretty  good  egg"  which  no  one  wanted 
to  eat,  though  it  could  not  be  pronounced  "  bad." 

One  of  London's  merchant-princes  and  philanthro- 
pists, the  late  George  Moore,  was  noted  for  his  accu- 
racy. He  insisted  that  his  clerks  should  be  correct  in 
the  smallest  of  details,  and  keep  a  voucher  for  every 
penny  paid  out. 


124  EDUCATIONAL  DEPARTMENT. 

Once  a  clerk  had  made  out  Mr.  Moore's  private 
account  against  the  firm.  Mr.  Moore,  while  auditing 
it,  going  over  hundreds  of  pounds,  suddenly  stopped 
at  a  debit  of  3^.  for  a  "'bus  to  Euston,"  for  which 
there  w^as  no  voucher.  "Where's  the  voucher  for 
this?"  he  asked.  "If  the  account  be  threepence 
wrong,  it  might  as  well  be  three  hundred  pounds 
wrong.  Find  the  voucher! "  Two  clerks  hunted 
three  da3'S  for  that  voucher,  searching  through  every 
letter  and  bill  for  a  year  back,  and  ransacked  every 
drawer.  But  the  voucher  could  not  be  found.  Mr. 
Moore  refused  to  pass  the  accounts,  and  the  book- 
keeper could  not  balance  his  books.  At  last,  the 
clerk  recollected  that  some  time  before  Mr.  Moore 
had  ordered  a  fish  to  be  sent  to  Euston  Station  by  a 
porter.  Being  in  a  great  hurr}',  he  had  not  given  the 
man  a  'bus  ticket.  The  cashier,  knowing  the  ex- 
penditure to  be  right,  had  paid  the  porter,  and  debited 
the  amount  to  Mr.  Moore's  private  account  without  a 
voucher.  Mr.  Moore  admitted  the  correctness  of  the 
charge  on  the  circumstance  being  mentioned  to  him, 
but  gave  the  clerk  a  sound  lecture  for  infringing  the 
firm's  rule  —  no  payment  without  a  voucher.  The 
clerks  thought  him  a  little,. too  particular  in  this  case; 
but  they  didn't  know  that  their  rich  employer  came 
near  being  ruined,  when  a  clerk,  by  a  little  inaccuracy 
in  addition. 

One  day,  while  in  the  employ  of  a  London  dry- 
goods  merchant,  Moore  was  sent  with  a  bundle  ot 
goods  to  Lady  Conyngham's  house.  She  inspected 
the  articles,  selected  several,  and  told  the  clerk  to 
make  out  a  receipted  bill.  He  did  so,  but  unfortu- 
nately made  it  one  pound  more  than  the  amount  he 


ED  UCA  TION  IS  NO T  BOOK-LEARNING.        125 

received.  Alter  his  departure,  tlie  lady,  on  looking 
over  the  bill,  saw  the  mistake,  and  thinking  she  had 
paid  the  clerk  the  extra  pound,  hastened  to  the  store 
to  have  it  returned.  On  referring  to  Moore's  check- 
book, it  was  found  that  the  amount  entered  was  one 
pound  less  than. the  receipted  bill.  "Young  man," 
said  her  ladyship,  indignantly,  "you  are  a  thief!" 
"  No,  your  ladyship,  he  is  not,"  rejoined  the  employer. 
"We  don't  keep  thieves  in  our  store.  There's  some 
mistake  about  it.  George,  see  if  you  can't  recollect 
the  circumstance  and  clear  up  the  matter." 

George  tried,  and  became  more  bewildered.  Sud- 
denly, he  asked  the  lady  the  amount  of  money  she  had 
in  her  purse  when  she  began  to  pay  him.  "  I  am  as- 
tonished at  your  impertinence,  young  man,"  said  she; 
"yet  I  can  give  you  the  desired  information.  Lord 
Conyngham  gave  me  twenty  pounds  this  morning.  I 
paid  so  much  to  the  grocer,  so  much  to  the  baker,  so 
much  to  you,  and  I  have  so  much  left."  The  clerk 
noted  3own  the  figures,  added  them  up,  and  found 
that  they  made  twenty-one  pounds,  or  a  pound  more 
than  she  had  received  from  her  husband.  He  called 
his  employer's  attention  to  the  fact;  and  then  re- 
membering that  he  had  made  a  memorandum  of  the 
articles  sold,  he  produced  it.  The  employer  saw  that 
George  had  received  the  money  according  to  memo- 
randum, and  not  according  to  the  receipted  bill.  He 
was  satisfied,  but  her  ladyship  left  the  store  in  a  rage, 
loudly  declaring  that  "  the  clerk  was  a  thief."  But  at 
home  her  cooled  temper  allowed  her  to  calmly  review 
all  the  facts.  Seeing  that  the  clerk's  statement  was 
correct,  she  sent  a  polite  note  to  the  merchant,  stating 
that  she  was  convinced  of  her  error  and  the  young 


126  EDUCATIONAL  DEPARTMENT. 

man's  honesty.  It  was  a  narrow  escape  for  George 
Moore.  The  laws  then  punished  forging,  steahng,  and 
shop-lifting  with  death.  Only  a  short  time  before,  a 
clerk  in  a  neighboring  store  had  been  hung  for  an 
offense  similar  to  that  of' which  George  had  been  ac- 
cused. The  lesson  was  an  impressible  one;  for  from 
that  day  George  Moore  cultivated  accuracy  in  the 
smallest  of  details. 

But  fortunately  the  penalty  for  inaccuracy  is  not 
likely  to  be  so  severe  in  all  cases,  else  few  of  our 
modern  college-boys  would  save  their  heads!  But 
the  necessity  for  a  proper  comprehension  of  the  true 
object  to  be  gained  by  a  course  of  schooling  is  cer- 
tainly very  important  at  the  outset. 

The  story  is  told  of  a  mason  who  used  one  brick 
with  one  edge  thicker  than  the  other  in  the  wall  he 
was  building,  and  as  the  result  the  wall  at  last  toppled 
over.  Just  so  with  ever  so  little  an  untruth  in  your 
character,  it  grows  more  and  more  untrue  if  you  per- 
mit it  to  remain,  till  it  brings  sorrow  and  ruin.  Hence 
it  must  be  impressed  on  a  child,  at  the  beginning  of  its 
school-life,  that  no  amount  of  "  learning  "  will  avail  if 
this  is  simply  hoarded  up  as  a  miser  hoards  his  gold, 
and  the  outside  life  receives  no  benefit  or  modifying 
influence. 

We  must  address  a  word  of  reproof  to  the  teacher 
also.  There  is  many  a  teacher  in  high  place  who  is 
no  more  fit  for  his  place  than  was  the  Assyrian  mon- 
arch who  beheld  the  handwriting  upon  the  wall — that 
just  sentence,  "  Thou  hast  been  weighed  and  found 
wanting."  Our  Saviour  says,  "  By  their  fruits  ye  shall 
know  them."  And  if  ever  there  was  a  class  of  men  to 
whom  this  will  apj^ly  more  than  to  another,  it  is  the 


ED UCA TION  IS  NOT  BO OK-LEA RNING.        127 

teacher.  The  one  is  a  blundering,  perfunctory  ma- 
chine (a  machine  that  is  very  badly  out  of  order,  and 
poorly  adapted  for  its  purpose),  while  another  is  en- 
thusiastic, earnest,  full  of  resources,  and  keenly  alive 
to  all  the  responsibilities  of  the  situation.  The  one 
teaches  his  pupils  to  be  accurate,  careful,  painstaking, 
thoughtful;  the  other  blunders  along  with  a  blunder- 
ing set  of  pupils,  and  turns  them  out  to  get  an  educa- 
tion, if  they  ever  do  get  it  at  all,  in  the  highways  and 
by-ways  of  life,  often  too  late  to  be  of  much  service 
to  themselves,  or  to  the  world  either. 

How  often  do  we  see  teachers  in  the  school-room 
moving  about  like  an  elephant  in  a  flower-garden, 
trampling  out  every  sweet  blossom  of  confidence, 
and  destroying  every  bud  of  promise.  The  grass 
that  is  pressed  down  by  the  roller  on  the  lawn  only 
becomes  the  more  obstinate  by  the  pressure;  so  the 
soul  of  the  child,  pressed  down  by  our  petty  despot- 
ism, when  delivered  from  the  pressure,  is  too  prone 
to  rebel  against  every  thing  that  is  good  and  just. 

We  can  only  hope  for  success  by  working  month 
after  month  and  year  after  year,  and  then  we  achieve, 
only  approximate  results.  One  blow  upon  the  anvil 
makes  no  perceptible  impression;  but  examine  it  after 
the  brawny  arms  of  the  smith  have  spent  a  year 
striking  successive  blows  upon  it.  Mark  the  result! 
Weary  not,  therefore,  in  well-doing. 

And  now  a  little  advice  to  the  eager  seeker  after 
an  education.  We  have  some  time  since  reached  the 
conclusion  that  the  worst  accident  that  can  befall  a 
young  man — or  a  young  woman  either,  for  that  mat- 
ter— is  to  be  born  with  wealthy  but  unwise  parents. 
We  will  not  say  "ignorant"  parents,  for  fear  of  being 


128  EDUCATIONAL  DEPARTMENT. 

misunderstood.  We  mean  such  as  lack  the  proper 
judgment  and  firmness  in  managing  their  children 
wisely.  The  poor  boy  stands  ten  times  the  better 
chance  in  this  country  when  he  lacks  wise  parental 
control.  Hence,  if  you  are  merely^^oor,  and  yet  have 
reached  an  appreciation  of  a  good  education,  you 
have  no  cause  to  complain. 

Young  men  who  have  to  work  their  own  way 
through  college,  receive  an  extra  education,  which  is 
often  more  valuable  than  the  teaching  of  president 
and  professor.  Their  wits  are  being  sharpened  to 
find  out  ways  of  earning  money,  and  of  saving  it  by 
stern  economy. 

Lyman  Beecher  tells  an  amusing  story  of  his  senior 
year.  It  was  near  the  close  of  the  year,  and  while 
expenses  were  heavy,  his  purse  was  empty,  and  a  note 
was  due  Avhich  had  been  given  for  borrowed  money. 
The.  butler  of  the  college  (Yale)  resigned  six  weeks 
before  Commencement.  Beecher,  seeing  his  oppor- 
tunity, bought  out  the  man's  stock  for  three  hundred 
dollars,  and  went  into  the  business  in  dead  earnest. 

He  bought  a  load  of  water-melons  and  cantaloupes, 
and  trundled  them  over  the  college-green  in  a  wheel- 
barrow. The  rich  students  laughed  at  him  for  being 
his  own  servant,  but  bought  his  melons.  He  traded 
in  other  commodities.  Lyman  made  a  capital  trader, 
and  was  amazed  at  his  own  success.  He  cleared 
enough  in  six  weeks  to  pay  the  butler  for  his  goods, 
to  take  up  the  note  for  borrowed  money,  to  meet  all 
Commencement  expenses,  and  to  graduate  with  one 
hundred  dollars  in  his  pocket.  The  same  intense 
earnestness  made  hmi  successful  in  the  pulpit. 

There   are   a  thousand   avenues   open  for  you  by 


COLLEGE  MEN.  129 

which,  with  time  and  patience,  you  can  get  what  you 
crave.  Go  at  it  pkickily,  earnestly,  and  thoroughly! 
Be  resolved  that  whatever  you  study  shall  be  mas- 
tered, and  whatever  you  begin  shall  be  finished,  and 
the  habit  of  doing  this  will  constitute  the  most  valu- 
able part  of  your  education. 

College  CQen. 

There  is  an  occasional  gibe  at  college-bred  men,  as  if  they 
were  too  fine  for  practical  service  in  affairs.  But  the  fact  is  that 
they  havfe  had  a  powerful  and  controlling  part  in  such  service. 
The  New  England  emigration,  which  was  the  most  momentous 
in  history,  and  the  most  influential  in  early  American  affairs, 
was  led  by  college  men.  The  most  powerful  Revolutionary 
leaders  were  college  men.  The  chiefs  of  the  Constitutional 
Convention  of  1787  were  college  men.  The  party  captains 
and  political  champions  during  the  constitutional  century  have 
been,  in  most  effective  part,  college  rnen.  It  is  not  weakness, 
nor  an  impracticable  tendency,  which  breeds  in  the  mind  of  the 
poor  country  boy  the  desire  to  go  to  college.  On  the  contrary, 
it  is  the  instinct  of  conscious  power  seeking  to  strengthen  itself, 
and  such  boys  have  come  to  stand  among  great  Americans. 

The  colonial  colleges  were  few  and  small,  but  the  best  of 
them  4id  their  work  well.  New  York  was  a  little  late  in  found- 
ing a  college.  But  the  New-Yorker  who  first  distinctly  hinted 
at  independence,  and  clearly  stated  the  central  argument  of  the 
Revolution,  John  Morin  Scott,  was  a  son  of  Yale,  and  the 
Revolutionary  fathers  of  New  York — John  Jay,  the  Livingstons, 
Gouverneur  Morris,  and  many  another — were  of  Columbia  Col- 
lege. Indeed,  when  President  Cooper,  of  Columbia,  who  had 
been  brought  from  England  to  preside  over  the  college,  took  up 
the  Tory  cudgels  to  discipline  New-Yorkers,  they  were  knocked 
out  of  his  hands  by  a  doughty  antagonist  in  a  work  of  anonym- 
ity, who  proved  to  be  Alexander  Hamilton,  one  of  his  own 
pupils. 

The  college  does  not  guarantee  to  every  graduate  all  the  virt- 
ues and  moral  graces,  nor  all  knowledge  and  wisdom,  nor  genius, 
and  statesmanship,  and  cominon  sense.  Neither  can  the  com- 
9 


130  EDUCATIONAL  DEPARTMENT. 

mon  school  or  the  academy  do  this,  nor  the  counting-room,  nor 
the  workshop,  nor  the  caucus.  But  experience  shows  that  the  • 
youths  who  earnestly  desire  the  knowledge  and  the  training 
which  the  college  supplies  are  those  who  become  men  that  the 
country  wants.  To  like  to  read  good  books,  to  associate  with 
generous,  enlightened  persons,  to  be  frugal  and  temperate,  and 
cleanly  of  life,  are  evidences  of  tendencies  and  tastes  which 
every  parent  hails  in  his  child  with  delight.  In  like  manner, 
the  taste  and  the  desire  for  college  education  are  proofs  of  the 
qualities  which  have  been  of  the  highest  public  service. 

Of  course  every  private  business  and  every  public  depai't- 
ment  is  full  of  the  most  honorable  and  efficient  men  who  are 
not  college-bred,  and  their  number  is  so  great  that  there  is  some- 
times a  disposition  to  think  that  the  college  is  a  dilettant  retreat, 
and  an  enervating  rather  than  a  strengthening  influence.  But 
this  impression  is,  as  we  have  said,  historically  inaccurate,  and 
no  college  man,  whether  he  be  freshman,  or  senior,  or  graduate, 
need  doubt  that  he  belongs  to  a  company  which  has  furnished 
the  most  efficient  and  illustrious  leaders  at  every  period  of  the 
national  life. 

Hames  op  (sOLLEGES. 

The  following  information  about  our  colleges  is  given  in  the 
New  York  Independent:  Plarvard  College  was  named  after  John 
Harvard,  who,  in  1638,  left  to  the  college  £779  and  a  library  of 
over  three  hundred  books;  Williams  College  was  named  after 
Colonel  Ephraim  Williams,  a  soldier  of  the  old  French  War; 
Dartmouth  College  was  named  after  Lord  Dartmouth,  who  sub- 
scribed a  lai-ge  amount  and  was  President  of  the  first  Board  of 
Trustees;  Brown  University  received  its  name  from  Nicholas 
Brown,  who  was  a  graduate  of  the  college,  went  into  business, 
became  very  wealthy,  and  endowed  the  college  very  largely; 
Bowdoin  College  was  named  after  Governor  Bowdoin,  of 
Maine;  Yale  College  was  named  after  Elihu  Yale,  who  made 
very  liberal  donations  to  the  college. 

A  Rabbi  of  little  learning,  and  less  modesty,  usurped  all  the 
discourse  at  table,  which  led  one  person  to  ask  another  if  he 
did  not  take  him  for  a  great  scholar.  The  answer  was,  "For 
aught  I  know  he  may  be  learned;  but  I  never  heard  learning 
make  so  great  a  noise." 


ELEMENTARY  EDUCATION.  181 

eLBMBNTAI^Y    CDUGAIPION. 


BY  A.  G.  HAYOOOD,  D.D. 


I  plead  for  public  schools  for  elementary  instruction,  sup- 
ported or  aided  by  government,  as  the  only  adequate  instru- 
mentality for  securing  what  the  people  need  for  their  own  good, 
what  government  must  have  for  its  safety  and  efficiency — uni- 
versal education.  I  believe  in  the  taxation  of  the  whole  people 
for  the  elementa/y  education  of  the  whole  people,  for  the  reason 
that  in  no  other  way  can  the  whole  people  be  educated. 

It  is  late  in  the  day  to  make  an  argument  on  this  subject;  the 
majority  of  the  American  people  have  pronounced  in  favor  of 
the  public  school  system.  Few  questions  have  been  more  de- 
bated; about  few  questions  have  there  been  more  divergent 
opinions;  few  questions  have  been  more  definitely  settled. 

Many  wise  and  good  people  have  maintained,  and  do  main- 
tain, that  government,  in  the  nature  of  things,  has  nothing  to 
do  with  education — that  the  State  has  no  educational  function 
w^hatever. 

At  one  time  this  was  my  own  opinion,  and  I  maintained  it  as 
best  I  could,  saying,  no  doubt,  some  very  absurd  things.  On 
this  subject,  as  on  some  others,  what  I  once  believed  and  main- 
tained is  inconsistent  with  what  I  now  believe  and  maintain. 
The  consistency  of  opinion  that  is  changeless,  where  it  is  not 
rooted  in  infallibility,  is  death. 

Opinions  should  be  in  harmony  with  facts.  We  are  not  to 
argue  about  what  is  true  in  the  nature  of  things  alone;  we  may 
easily  be  mistaken  about  the  nature  of  things.  We  are  to  con- 
sider also  what  is  true  as  matters  of  fact;  facts  we  may  know, 
if  we  seek  to  know  them.  Whatever  may  be  our  a  priori  doc- 
trines of  government,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  education  in  the  ele- 
ments of  learning  is,  in  this  country,  a  function  of  government. 
The  people,  whose  right  it  was,  have  made  education  a  function 
of  government  by  saying  that  it  is. 

It  is  said  of  many  who  sorely  need  education,  "They  do  not 
want  it."  This  may  be  so;  but  it  is  not  proposed  to  provide 
them  with  the  means  of  education  because  they  wish  it,  but 
because  they  need  it,  and  because  their  partners  in  the  govern- 
ment— their  fellow-citizens — cannot  afford  for  them  to  remain 


132  EDUCATIONAL  DEPART3IENT. 

in  ignorance.  Many  things  law  requires  that  some  people  da 
not  wish.  Whatever  endangers  the  peace  or  health  of  the 
community' must  be  abated,  even  if  government  has  to  come 
between  parents  and  children,  whether  it  be  some  nuisance  that 
corrupts  the  air,  or  some  ignorance  that  corrupts  society.  The 
State  does  not  ask  leave  of  a  citizen  to  vaccinate  his  children 
to  prevent  the  spread  of  small-pox,  or  to  disinfect  his  premises 
if  they  threaten  to  propagate  cholera  germs;  nor  does  it  ques- 
tion its  right  to  provide  for  the  expense  of  securing  the  common 
safety  by  common  taxation. 

Some  will  say  the  analogy  in  these  illustrations  involves  the 
doctrine  of  compulsory  education.  I  believe  that  it  does.  I 
believe  that  compulsory  education  is  the  logical  conclusion  of 
the  argument  that  establishes  a  common  school  system  sup- 
ported by  government.  I  believe  in  the  doctrine  of  compul- 
sory education.  There  should  be  appropriate  pains  and  penal- 
ties for  neglecting  or  refusing  the  means  of  elementary  educa- 
tion provided  by  the  State.  At  the  very  least  there  should  b?- 
a  reasonable  educational  test  as  determining  the  right  to  vote. 
The  State  should  enact  that,  after  a  given  time — say  ten  years 
from  the  passage  of  the  law — no  man  should  vote  who  cannot 
read  and  write. 

^OLLBGE-BI^BD   l^UBLIG  0)EN. 

It  is  claimed  that  solid  facts  will  warrant  the  statement  that 
of  the  whole  number  of  Chief-justices,  Presidents,  Vice-presi- 
dents, and  Secretaries  of  State,  from  the  founding  of  the  Re- 
public down  to  1861 — fifty-five  in  all — forty-two,  or  more  than 
three-fourths,  had  2-eceived  a  collegiate  education;  and  that  of 
the  twenty-six  United  States  Senators  from  Connecticut  prior 
to  1861,  twenty  were  graduates  of  colleges;  and  of  the  twenty- 
eight  United  States  Senators  from  Massachusetts  prior  to  the 
same  date,  twenty-three  had  been  collegiately  educated. 

Uagation  School. 

The  vacation  school  of  Boston,  an  experiment  of  Mrs.  Hem- 
enway  and  Mrs.  Shaw,  allows  voluntary  attendance.  There  are 
no  marks,  no  rules  about  tardiness  or  absence,  no  lessons  from 
Books.  The  children  may  go  or  may  stay  away,  as  they  please, 
and  the  result,  last  year  was  a  h.rge  attendance. 


VALUE  OF  EDUCATION.  133 

UaliUe  op  €dU6AIPI0N. 


BY  WILLIAM  MATHEWS,  LI<.D. 


It  is  the  meanest  of  all  the  cants  of  ignorance  to  assert  that 
there  is  any  incompatibility  between  business  or  practical  tal- 
ente  and  scholarship — for  the  successful  booby  to  cry  down  ac- 
complishments in  the  counting-room  or  the  carpenter's  shop. 
As  if  cultivated  intelligence,  added  to  refinement  of  manners 
and  systematic  order,  should  accomplish  less  than  undisciplined 
native  power! — as  if  the  Damascus  blade  lost  its  edge  by  being 
polished,  or  as  if  the  supporting  column  of  an  edifice  were  less 
strong  because  its  shaft  is  fluted  and  its  capital  carved!  We 
believe  that  it  might  easily  be  shown  that  a  liberal  education, 
which  is  only  another  name  for  intelligence,  knowledge,  intel- 
lectual force,  promotes  success  in  every  honest  calling,  even 
though  that  calling  be  to  cut  cheese  or  open  oysters — or,  even 
lowen  still,  to  make  political  speeches  and  electioneer  for  Con- 
gress. But,  suppose  that  it  were  not  so;  that  it  did  not  con- 
tribute one  jot  or  tittle  to  success,  in  the  vulgar  sense  of  that 
word.  Were  men  designed  to  be  mere  merchants,  farmers,  or 
mechanics,  and  nothing  more?  Man  is  not  a  means,  but  an  end. 
He  claims  a  generous  culture,  not  because  he  is  to  follow  the 
plow,  wield  the  sledge,  or  buy  and  sell  wheat  or  cotton,  but  be- 
cause he  is  a  man.  The  fact  that  the  ordinary  pursuits  of  life 
are  widely  removed  from  liberal  studies  is  of  itself  a  cogent 
reason  why  those  who  are  to  be  incessantly  dealing  with  mate- 
rial forms  should  early  foster  a  taste  for  those  studies  which,  in 
the  language  of  another,  "reclaim  men  from  the  dominion  of 
the  senses,  recruit  their  overtasked  energies,  quicken  within 
them  the  sensibilities  of  taste,  and  invite  them  to  the  contem- 
plation of  whatever  is  lovely  in  the  sympathies  of  our  common 
nature,  splendid  in  the  conquests  of  intellect,  or  heroic  in  the 
trials  of  virtue." 

Those  who  clamor  for  the  so-called  "  practical  education  "  for- 
get-that, antecedent  to  his  calling  as  merchant,  engineer,  or  car- 
penter, there  is  another  profession,  more  important  still,  for 
which  every  man  should  be  trained — "  the  profession  of  human- 
ity." As  Rousseau,  in  his  famous  treatise  on  education,  which 
contains  many  golden  truths  imbedded  among  its  errors,  justly 


134  EDUCATIONAL  DEPARTMENT. 

says:  "  Nature  has  destined  us  for  the  offices  of  human  life,  ante- 
cedently to  our  destination  concerning  society.  To  live  is  the 
profession  I  would  teach  him  [a  youth].  Det  him  first  he  a  man; 
he  will,  on  occasion,  as  soon  become  any  thing  else  that  a  man 
ought  to  be  as  any  person  whatever.  Fortune  may  remove  him 
from  one  place  to  another  as  she  pleases;  he  will  always  be 
found  in  his  place."  We  believe  in  "practical"  education  inpst 
sincerely;  only  we  would  use  the  word  in  its  broadest  and  most 
comprehenwve  sense.  We  call  that  education  practical  which 
educes  all  a  man's  faculties,  and  gives  him  possession  of  himself. 
We  call  that  practical  education  which  enables  a  man  to  bring 
all  his  faculties  to  bear  at  once  with  energy  and  earnestness  on 
any  given  point,  and  to  keep  them  fastened  on  that  point  until 
the  task  he  has  set  for  them  is  accomplished.  We  call  that  ed- 
ucation practical  which  gives  a  man  a  clear,  conscious  view  of 
his  own  opinions  and  judgments,  and  enables  him  to  develop 
them  with  fullness,  to  express  them  with  eloquence,  and  to  urge 
them  with  force.  That  is  practical  education  which  t«aches 
him  to  see  things  as  they  are,  to  go  right  to  the  point,  to  disen- 
tangle a  skein  of  thought,  to  detect  what  is  sophistical,  and  to 
discard  what  is  irrelevant.  That  is  practical  education  which 
enables  him  to  estimate  with  precision  the  worth  of  an  argu- 
ment, to  detect  the  hidden  relations  of  things,  to  trace  effects  to 
their  causes,  to  grasp  a  mass  of  detached  and  dislocated  facts, 
reduce  them  to  order  and  harmony,  and  marshal  .them  under  the 
sway  of  some  general  law.  That  is  practical  education  which 
enables  him  to  know  his  own  weakness,  to  command  his  own 
passions,  to  adapt  himself  to  circumstances,  to  perceive  the  sig- 
nificance of  actions,  events,  and  ojoinions.  That  is  practical 
education  which  opens  his  mind,  expands  it,  and  refines  it;  fits 
it  to  digest,  master,  and  use  its  knowledge;  gives  it  flexibility, 
tact,  method,  critical  exactness,  sagacity,  discrimination,  re- 
source, address,  and  expression. 

Such  a  man  is  full  of  resources,  and  prepared  for  any  event. 
Misfortunes  cannot  kill  him,  nor  disasters  depress  him.  He  or- 
ganizes victory  out  of  defeat,  and  converts  obstacles  into  step- 
ping-stones to  success.  Life  to  him  is  never  stale,  flat,  and 
unprofitable;  but  always  fresh,  stimulating,  opulent.  In  the 
words  of  the  polished  writer  already  quoted,  "  He  is  at  home  in 
any  society;  he  has  common  ground  with  every  class;  he  knows 


TEACHING  BEFORE  LEARNING.  135 

when  to  speak,  and  when  to  be  silent;  he  is  able  to  converse,  he 
is  able  to  listen;  he  can  ask  a  question  pertinently,  and  gain  a 
lesson  seasonably  when  he  has  nothing  to  impart  himself;  he  is 
ever  ready,  yet  never  in  the  way;  he  is  a  pleasant  companion, 
and  a  comrade  you  can  depend  upon;  he  knows  when  to  be 
serious,  and  when  to  trifle,  and  he  has  a  sure  tact  which  enables 
him  to  trifle  with  gracefulness  and  to  be  serious  with  eflTect. 
He  has  the  repose  of  a  mind  which  lives  in  itself  while  it  lives 
in  the  world,  and  which  has  resources  for  its  happiness  at  home 
when  it  cannot  go  abroad.  He  has  a  gift  which  serves  him  in 
public  and  supports  him  in  retirement,  without  which  good 
fortune  is  but  vulgar,  and  with  which  failure  and  disappoint- 
ment have  a  charm." 

SbAGHING   BBPOI^E   liBAI^NING. 

A  lad  of  fourteen,  of  an  exceptionally  nervous  temperament, 
became  a  convert  at  a  revival  in  a  camp-meeting.  Instead  of 
taking  his  quickened  love  for  God  home  with  him  to  make  him 
a  better  son  and  brother,  and  a  more  diligent  scholar,  he  in- 
sisted upon  going  into  the  pulpit  to  preach.  The  singularity 
of  his  youthful  appearance,  the  wild  fervor  of  his  appeals,  drew 
crowds  to  hear  him.  The  "boy  evangelist"  became  an  attrac- 
tion in  the  sect  to  which  he  belonged. 

He  was  sent  from  one  congregation  to  another,  producing 
wherever  he  went  a  feverish  excitement.  The  inevitable  result 
followed. 

He  was  but  a  child ;  without  experience,  knowledge,  or  even 
observation.  There  could  be  no  substance  in  his  sermons; 
they  were  only  wild,  incoherent  cries,  which  excited  his  own 
emotional  nature  to  the  uttermost. 

Finding,  however,  that  they  began  to  fail  in  their  effect  on 
his  hearers,  he  adopted  certain  eccentricities  of  behavior  to 
secure  attention — such  as  running  up  and  down  the  aisles,  and 
poising  himself  on  one  leg.  In  a  short  time  his  actions  degen- 
erated into  buffoonery,  and  it  was  found  that  the  lad's  mind  was 
impaired;  the  long  nervous  strain  had  unseated  his  reason. 

This  w^as  an  extreme  case,  probably.  But  there  is  a  marked 
tendency  in  American  youth  to  become  teachers  before  they 
have  been  learners.  Mere  babies  of  seven  or  eight  write  Stories 
for  the  papers,  and  lads  who  are  little  older  edit  journals.     Even 


136  EDUCATIONAL  DEPARTMENT. 

for  the  religious  world  books  are  wi'itten  in  which  immaculate 
little  saints  convert  godless  mothers  and  drunken  fathers.  Now, 
for  one  such  case  as  this  in  actual  life,  there  are  thousands  of 
faulty  little  ones  who  need  to  be  taught  obedience  and  respect 
for  their  parents.  There  are  very  few  children,  too,  whose 
brains  will  bear  the  forcing  and  unnatural  light  of  newspaper 
notoriety.  Wholesoine  mental  gi'owth  is  found  in  the  quiet  ■ 
and  seclusion  of  a  pure  home-life. 

FjESBI^YBD  FOI^GBS. 

It  is  often  the  case  that  success  in  life  depends  upon  what 
may  be  called  reserved  forces  or  reserved  power.  The  individ- 
ual has  in  store  certain  physical,  moral,  or  intellectual  forces, 
which  he  brings  into  action  whenever  they  are  needed. 

The  late  Benjamin  Disi'aeli,  on  making  his  maiden  speech  in 
the  House  of  Commons,  was  met  with  shouts  of  derisive  laugh- 
ter. In  closing,  he  said:  "I  have  begun  many  things,  and  have 
often  succeeded  at  last.  I* will  sit  down  now,  but  the  time  will 
come  when  you  will  hear  me." 

The  time  came  when  the  House  of  Commons  not  only  heard 
him,  but  acknowledged  him  as  its  leader  and  as  the  prime  min- 
ister. 

Daniel  Webster  possessed  great  reserve  power.  His  mind 
was  not  only  well  fitted  to  consider  any  question  in  law  or 
statesmanship  which  might  be  submitted,  but  it  was  well  stored 
w^ith  knowledge. 

His  famous  speech  against  Hayne  is  a  fine  example  of  the 
vastness  of  the  intellectual  foixes  he  had  in  reserve.  The  speech 
(the  first  of  the  two)  was  delivered  after  very  brief  prepara- 
tion; but,  in  the  wealth  of  knowledge  it  displayed,  in  the  close- 
ness of  its  logic,  in  its  beauty  of  style  and  eloquence,  it  has 
seldom,  even  if  ever,  been  equaled  in  American  oratory. 

This  reserve  power  of  Disraeli  and  of  Webster  contributed 
to  the  success  of  their  work. 

The  means  of  attaining  this  power  is  chiefly  to  read  much 
and  thoroughly,  and,  what  is  more  essential,  to  think  constantly 
and  carefully. 

Train  the  mind  well,  store  it  with  learning,  and  one  is  pre- 
pared with  a  stock  of  intellectual  forces  which  he  can  bring 
into  play  whenever  tiie  demand  is  made. 


deaf  scholars.  137 

Zealous  0)en  the  Suggesspul  Ones. 

As  far  as  natural  endowments  determine,  the  zealous  men 
are  par  eminence  the  successful  ones.  But  they  have  a  beset- 
ting sin  which,  being  intrinsic,  is  therefore,  perhaps,  not  quite 
a  sin — bigotry.  Except  in  the  case  of  great  creative  minds,  it 
is  necessary  to  be  somewhat  partial  in  order  to  succeed  in  affairs. 
Broad  culture  is  seldom  efficient  in  any  immediate  way;  narrow, 
intense  purpose  accomplishes  the  hard  enterprises  of  .the  world, 
and  is  every-where  at  a  premium  among  those  who  are  inter- 
ested in  getting  things  done.  I  have  a  respect  for  bigots  and 
partisans,  and  believe  that  the  world  owes  a  great  debt  to  intol- 
erant, one-sided  men.  It  must  have  them;  it  could  not  push  its 
reforms,  or  get  its  rough,  unpleasant  work  done  else.  Narrow 
men  are  edged  men,  men  of  single  and  determined  purposes; 
and  in  their  purposes  they  are  apt  to  succeed.  The  liberal,  the 
spirits  of  insight,  really  rule  all,  though  they  are  not  always  seen 
to  do  so;  they  create  the  thoughts  that  direct  the  world's  forces. 
But  they  turn  over  their  thoughts  to  armies  of  stirring  partisans, 
who  adjust  by  force  of  arms  the  claims  of  opposing  truths. 
The  philosopher  would  prefer  to  wait  for  evolution,  and  to  let 
things  settle  themselves  quietly;  but  the  reformers  cannot  wait 
for  this.  So  they  organize  boards,  wage  religious  wars,  and 
piously  burn  the  witches.  There  is  a  sad  waste  of  force  in  these 
proceedings;  but  men  promise  to  become  wiser  in  course  of  time, 
and  meanwhile  the  machine  creaks  slowly  along,  and  some 
progress  is  made. 

Deaf  Sgholai^s. 

Dr.  Gelle,  of  Pai'is,  has  found  that  twenty  to  twenty-five  per 
cent,  of  children  hear  only  within  a  limited  range.  A  practical 
result  of  this  discovery  is  that  children  are  now  placed  at  such 
a  distance  from  the  teacher's  desk  as  will  correspond  with  their 
strength  of  hearing.  The  matter  does  not  appear  to  have  been 
thought  of  before,  but  its  obvious  importance  is  now  likely  to 
attract  attention  from  our  teachers. 

In  a  very  learned  paper,  describing  anatomically  the  effect 
of  over-pressure  at  school,  it  was  lately  sensibly  said  that  "  it  is 
not  so  much  study,  as  distasteful  study,  that  proves  injurious." 


138  EDUCATIONAL  DEPARTMENT, 


BY  ADELAIDE  A.  PROCTER. 


Words  are  lighter  than  the  cloud  foam 

Of  the  restless  ocean  spray; 
Vainer  than  the  trembling  shadow 

That  the  next  hour  steals  away: 
By  the  fall  of  summer  rain-drops 

Is  the  air  as  deeply  stirred; 
And  the  rose  leaf  that  we  tread  on 

Will  outlive  a  word. 

Yet  on  the  dull  silence  breaking 

With  a  lightning  flash,  a  word, 
Bearing  endless  desolation 

On  its  blighting  wings,  I  heard. 
Earth  can  forge  no  keener  weapon, 

Dealing  surer  death  and  pain, 
And  the  cruel  echo  answered 

Through  long  years  again. 

I  have  known  one  word  hang  star-like 

O'er  a  dreary  waste  of  years, 
And  it  only  shone  the  brighter 

Looked  at  through  a  mist  of  tears, 
While  a  weary  wanderer  gathered 

Hope  and  heart  on  life's  dark  way. 
By  its  faithful  promise  shining 

Clearer  day  by  day. 

I  have  known  a  spirit  calmer 

Than  the  calmest  lake,  and  clear 
As  the  heavens  that  gazed  upon  it, 

With  no  wave  of  hope  or  fear; 
But  a  storm  had  swept  across  it. 

And  its  deepest  depths  were  stirred, 
Never,  never  more  to  slumber, 

Only  by  a  word. 


UNNECESSARY  WORDS.  139 

Unnegbssai^y  ^of^ds. 

The  habit  of  using  more  words  than  lare  needed  in  the  ex- 
pression of  thought  is  almost  universal.  Sometimes  it  takes 
the  form  of  employing  unmeaning  exclamations;  sometimes 
that  of  putting  into  a  sentence  words  or  phrases  which  do  not 
add  to  its  force  or  make  it  clearer;  sometimes  that  of  construct- 
ing long  phrases  when  short  ones  would  be  better. 

As  an  example  of  the  first,  let  any  one  make  a  record  of  the 
number  of  times  he  will  hear  sentences  begun  with  a  "Well!" 
or  an  "O!"  or  a  "Say!"  or  some  other  idle  word,  during  the 
next  hour  after  reading  this  article. 

To  say,  "Well,  I  don't  think  so,"  means  exactly  the  same  as 
"  I  don't  think  so."  "  Say,  will  you  come  with  me?"  The  per- 
son addressed  will  be  likely  to  "  say,"  whether  he  is  commanded 
to  do  so  or  not. 

Perhaps  there  are  no  more  common  faults  of  speech  than  the 
unnecessary  use  of  the  word  "got,"  and  of  the  phrases  "you 
know,"  and  "says  he,"  or  "says  I.*' 

A  story  is  told  of  a  Frenchman  who  had  been  talking  with  a 
lady  much  given  to  the  use  of  "says  he"  and  its  sister  phrases. 
"  Do  you  understand  me?"  she  asked. 

"Oui,  oui,"  he  replied;  "but  vat  ees  dat  sezai^  sezeef  Ees  it 
vat  you  call  to  swear  ?  " 

The  same  Frenchman,  or  another,  became  much  irritated 
with  a  gentleman's  "you  knows,"  and  at  last  interrupted  him — 

"Pardon,  monsieur,  but  you  say  to  me,  'You  know,  you 
know.'  But  I  do  not  know.  If,  zen,  I  do  not  know,  why  say 
you  to  me,  'You  know?'" 

How  many  of  us  say  "  I  have  got  it,"  when  we  mean  "  I  have 
it?"  The  inveterate  use  of  "got"  is  illustrated  by  the  manner 
in  which  a  man  once  aroused  his  wife  in  the  morning:  "  Get  up, 
Jane!  Breakfast  has  got  to  be  got,  and  you  have  got  to  get  up 
and  get  it." 

Bad  habits  of  speech  are  much  easier  to  acquire  than  to  aban- 
don. One  hears  "well,"  "got,"  and  "says  he"  from  a  hundred 
mouths,  and  unconsciously  drops  into  the  habit  of  using  them. 
As  proof  of  this  we  suggest  that  families  make  an  agreement 
to  keep  a  record  for  one  day,  or  for  one  week,  of  the  number 
of  times  each  member  uses  either  one  or  all  of  the  needless 


140  EDUCATIONAL  DEPARTMENT. 

words  we  have  mentioned.  We  venture  the  prediction  that  if 
the  account  be  faithfully  kept,  few  of  our  readers  will  have  an 
average  of  less  than  ten  black  marks  a  day,  however  hard  they 
may  try  to  avoid  welling  and  you -knowing. 

It  is  no  mean  accomplishment  for  a  pei'son  to  speak  properly. 
To  do  so  it  is  necessary  to  have  a  knowledge  of  the  meaning  of 
the  words  used  and  their  proper  pronunciation.  Ignorance  of 
either  will  result  in  mortifying  mistakes.  These  may  be  avoided 
by  consulting  a  dictionary  and  giving  heed  to  the  tongue.  A 
coi'respondent,  calling  attention  to  "  slips  of  the  tongue  "  which 
he  has  noted,  says: 

I  am  surprised  every  day  at  the  carelessness  shown  by  people 
in  talking.  My  grocer  praises  his  "  salary  "  when  he  means  his 
celery;  my  minister  calls  partition-walls  "petition-walls,"  and 
riotousness  "  righteousness."  My  neighbor  tells  me  of  a  friend 
who  died  "  intestine,"  without  a  will — meaning  intestate. 

In  my  hearing  a  revolutionist  has  been  called  a  "revolver;" 
constellation,  "consternation;"  and  sedentary,  "sedimentary;" 
divertisement  has  been  defined  as  meaning  "advertisement;"  a 
person  has  been  said  to  have  the  "  celluloid  "  instead  of  varioloid. 

More  common  words,  also,  have  been  strangely  mixed  up, 
such  as  "except"  for  accept,  "receipt"  for  recipe,  "rise"  for 
raise,  "  set"  for  sit,  "laid  "  for  lay,  and  scores  of  others.  In  fact, 
I  might  multiply  examples  almost  without  limit,  for  such  mis- 
takes are  occurring  every-where. 

Proper  names,  too,  suffer,  and  I  am  one  of  the  frequent  vic- 
tims. My  own  name  is  Mosher,  but  peojile  will  persist  in  call- 
ing me  "  Mouser,"  despite  my  best  efforts  to  prevent  it. 

0)BANING   OP   050I^DS. 

The  w^ord  "watch"  was  originally  used  as  a  term  of  endear- 
ment, similar  to  "  darling."  The  word  "  wench  "  formerly  was 
not  used  in  the  low  and  vulgar  acceptation  that  it  now  is. 
"Damsel"  was  the  appellation  of  young  ladies  of  distinction. 
"Knave"  once  signified  a  servant.  "Villain"  was  a  bondman. 
"Pedant"  was  a  schoolmaster.  Many  words  have  deteriorated, 
and  jjained  a  sinister  meaning  at  first  foreign  to"  them. 


SIX  LITTLE  WORDS.  141 

The  word  "cunning,"  for  example,  formerly  meant  nothing^ 
sinister  or  imderhanded.  *' Demure"  is  another  of  this  class. 
It  was  used  by  earlier  writers  without  the  insinuation,  which  is 
now  almost  latent  in  it,  that  the  external  shows  of  modesty  and 
sobriety  rest  on  no  corresponding  realities.  "Facetious"  origi- 
nally meant  urbane,  but  has  now  so  degenerated  as  to  have  ac- 
quired the  sense  of  buffoonery.  "Indolence"  originally  signi- 
fied freedom  from  passion  or  pain,  but  now  implies  a  condition 
of  languid  non-exertion.  "  Insolent"  was  only  unusual.  "Gos- 
sip" was  a  sponsor  at  baptisms.  A  poet  is  a  person  who  writes 
poetry;  and  according  to  the  good  old  custom,  a  proser  was  ix 
person  who  wrote  prose,  and  simply  the  antithesis  of  poet. 
The  word  has  now  a  sadly  different  signification. 

Six  UmwhE  li3o^DS. 

vSix  little  words  do  claim  me  every  day— 

Shall,  must,  and  can,  with  ivill,  and  ought,  and  may. 

Shall  is  the  law  within  inscribed  by  heaven, 

The  goal  to  which  I  by  myself  am  driven. 

Must  is  the  bound  not  to  be  overpast, 

Where  by  the  world  and  nature  I'm  held  fast. 

Can  is  the  measure  of  my  personal  dower 

Of  deed  and  art,  science  and  practiced  power. 

Will  is  my  noblest  crown,  my  brightest,  best — 

Freedom's  my  own  seal  upon  my  soul  imprest; 

Ought  the  inscription  on  the  seal  set  fair 

On  Freedom's  open  door,  a  bolt  'tis  there. 

And  lastly,  may,  'mong  many  courses  mixed, 

The  vaguely  possible  by  the  moment  fixed. 

Shall,  must,  and  can,  with  will,  and  ought,  and  may — 

These  are  the  six  that  claim  me  every  day. 

Only  when  God  doth  teach,  do  I  know  each  day, 

I  shall,  I  must,  I  can,  I  %vill,  I  ought,  I  may. 

A  book  is  a  living  voice.  It  is  a  spirit  walking  on  the  face 
of  the  earth.  It  continues  to  be  the  living  thought  of  a  person 
separated  from  us  by  space  and  time.  Men  pass  away;  monu- 
ments crumble  into  dust — what  remains  and  survives  is  human 
thought. 


142  EDUCATIONAL  DEPARTMENT. 

fiN    IGNOI^ANIP   SCHOIiAI^. 

No  defense  need  ever  have  been  made  for  the  study  of  "  the 
cHssics,"  if  graduates  had  always  understood  that  these  are 
helps  and  means  to  a  liberal  education,  instead  of  making  them 
the  main  thing.  As  a  mental  discipline  and  as  immensely 
enriching  one's  knowledge  of  his  own  language,  and  his  power 
of  language,  the  study  and  drill  in  the  Latin  and  Greek  is  an 
invaluable  privilege  to  every  true  scholar  and  every  worker  in 
the  "learned  professions."  The  trouble  is  that  too  many  col- 
lege students  have  allowed  these  studies  to  take  the  place  of  a 
common-school  education,  and  have  thus  brought  their  classic 
acquirements  into  contempt,  as  they  simply  present  a  spectacle 
of  "learned  ignorance"  when  tested  in  actual  business.  Ac- 
cordingly we  can  understand  Horace  Greeley's  disdain  of  "lib- 
erally educated"  young  men.  He  had  tried  some  of  them,  and 
found  them  wanting.  An  anecdote  told  by  the  Hon.  Oliver  H. 
Smith,  of  Indiana,  illustrates  the  foolish  mistake  we  have  just 
spoken  of. 

"The  student  [of  law]  should  have  a  good,  sound  English 
education.  He  should  spell  well,  read  well,  and  write  well,  and 
understand  the  principles  of  arithmetic  and  English  grammar. 
The  higher  branches  may  be  added,  but  I  do  not  hold  that  in 
this  country  a  knowledge  of  the  dead  languages  and  a  famil- 
iarity with  the  classics  is  essential  fo  the  student,  nor  even  to  his 
success  as  a  practitioner,  although  I  do  not  object  to  their  study 
where  a  favoi'able  opportunity  is  afforded.  But  I  do  mean  to 
say  that  I  have  known  many  graduates  of  colleges  who  were 
so  deficient  in  the  English  department  of  their  education  as  to 
be  disqualified  for  students  in  my  office. 

"A  fine-looking  young  man  called  upon  me  one  day,  desiring 
to  study  law  with  me.     I  inquired  of  him  as  to  his  education. 

"  '  I  am  a  graduate  of  an  Eastern  college,'  said  he.  '  I  under- 
stand Latin,  Greek,  and  Hebrew;  I  stood  number  two  in  a 
large  class.' 

" '  Do  you  spell  well? ' 

" '  I  presume  so,  but  I  never  thought  much  of  that' 

" '  Spell  balance.' 

"'B-a-1,  bal,  1-a-n-c-e,  lance,  balance.' 

"'That  won't  do.     Do  you  read  well?' 


PAGANINI,  THE  GENIUS.  143 

"'Certainly.' 
'"Read  this.' 

My  name  is  Norvel  on  the  Grampian  Hills '- 


" '  What  was  his  name  off  the  Grampian  Hills?  Do  you  write 
well?' 

" '  No,  I  never  could  write  much  of  a  hand.  Indeed,  I  never 
tried  to  learn.  Our  great  men  out  East  can  scarcely  write  their 
names  so  they  can  be  read.' 

"'Let  me  see  you  write.' 

"He  scratched  off  some  caricatures  looking  like  turkey- 
tracks. 

"'That  is  sufficient.  Your  education  is  too  imperfect  for  a 
lawyer.  The  dead  languages  may  be  dispensed  with,  but  spell- 
ing, reading,  and  writing  cannot  be.' 

"I  advised  him  to  go  to  one  of  our  common  schools  and 
begin  his  education  over  again,  and  he  might  yet  qualify  him- 
self for  the  study  of  law." 

©AGANINI,   THE   GSNIUS. 

A  young  man  who  has  imbibed  the  notion  that  he  is  a  genius 
is  apt  to  lose  his  balance.  The  flattery  of  friends  makes  him  so 
vain  that  he  imagines  that  he,  at  least,  may  attain  without  labor. 
He  ignores  mental  discipline,  because  it  involves  hard  study. 
He  trusts  to  his  genius  to  push  him  up,  and  sinks. 

Scores  of  young  men  go  to  pieces  at  the  beginning  of  the 
voyage,  when  they  might  have  entered  port  with  every  sail 
drawing  had  they  taken  theiy  departure  fi^om  Carlyle's  defini- 
tion of  genius:  A  capacity  for  infinite  painstaking. 

All  Europe  hailed  Paganini  as  a  genius.  During  forty  years 
he  reigned  the  monarch  of  the  violin,  with  no  rival  near  his 
throne. 

If  any  one  was  ever  born  a  violinist,  he  was.  As  soon  as  he 
could  hold  the  violin  he  began  to  play  it.  The  worshipers  in 
the  churches  of  Genoa  often  looked  toward  the  choir  to  see  a 
child  playing  on  a  violin  almost  as  large  as  himself. 

His  genius  was  phenomenal.  It  gave  him  capacity,  and  urged 
him  to  develop  it  by  intense  application.  His  precocity  aston- 
ished those  from  whom  he  sought  instruction;  but  they  were 
amazed  at  the  zeal  and  rapidity  .with  which  he  worked  at  their 


144  EDUCATIONAL  DEPARTMENT. 

lessons.  He  soon  exhausted  their  ability  to  instruct,  and  so 
passed  on  from  one  great  teacher  to  another. 

He  went  to  Rolla,  the  great  musician  of  Parma.  The  master 
was  ill  in  bed,  and  Paganini  waited  in  the  ante-i-oom.  Some 
sheets  of  difficult  music  were  lying  on  the  table,  alongside  of  a 
violin.     The  boy  looked  at  the  music,  and  began  playing  it. 

"Who  is  the  great  master  playing  in  my  ante-room?"  asked 
Rolla,  raising  himself  to  listen. 

"A  mere  boy!  impossible!"  he  exclaimed,  on  being  told  that 
the  player  was  a  mere  lad,  who  wished  to  become  a  pupil. 

When  Paganini  appeared  before  the  invalid's  bed,  the  master 
said,  "I  can  teach  you  nothing." 

The  boy  had  practiced  ten  or  twelve  hours  a  day.  He  would 
try  passages  over  and  over  again  in  different  ways,  with  such 
perseverance  that  at  nightfall  he  was  exhausted  by  fatigue.  He 
composed  as  well  as  practiced,  writing  music  so  difficult  that  he 
could  not  play  it  until  he  had  mastered  it  by  incessant  practice. 

Let  the  reader  note  the  woi-king  of  the  boy's  genius.  It 
prompted  him  to  compose  a  hard  task  to  be  mastered  by  him- 
self. It  kept  him  up  to  his  work  day  after  day,  until  he  had 
mastered  the  task.  The  boy  had  a  capacity  for  infinite  pains- 
taking. 

The  boy's  genius  made  him  thorough.  Faraday  used  ta 
begin  his  investigation  of  a  phenomenon  by  learning  all  that 
other  scientists  had  written  about  it.  With  similar  thorough- 
ness young  Paganini  acquired  the  knowledge  of  what  other 
violinists  had  done  or  left  undone. 

He  would  have  knowledge  as  well  as  art,  so  that  he  might 
not  fail  through  ignorance  or  plagiarism.  He  worked  hard  to 
produce  new  effiscts  and  combinations.  He  sighed  for  a  new 
world,  because  he  had  explored  the  old.  His  explorations  gave 
him  his  point  of  departure.  He  sailed  from  it  and  discovered 
a  world  in  which  he  had  no  master,  no  equal,  and  no  follower. 

His  art  was  born  with  him,  but  he  developed  it  by  study  and 
practice.  When  he  died,  men  said  he  had  carried  his  secret 
with  him  to  the  grave.  It  may  be  so;  but  the  intelligent  reader 
of  his  life  discerns  that  Paganini's  ability  to  master  details  ac- 
counts in  part  for  his  success.  The  young  man  who  thinks 
himself  a  genius  may  prove  its  truth  by  as  close  application  and 
persevering  labor,  but  not  otherwise. 


146  EDUCATIONAL  DEPARTMENT. 

interest,  a  large  circle  of  friends,  a  lovely  wife,  beautiful  chil- 
dren, the  finest  of  climates,  and  a  contented  heart!  Alas!  not 
quite  contented! 

Near  Stephen  Wilson  lived  John  McFarland,  a  Scotchman 
by  birth,  a  miller  by  occupation,  and  also  a  man  of  wealth,  ac- 
quired by  hard  labor  and  careful  economy.  Between  the  two 
the  gi'eatest  of  friendship  existed,  but  the  most  positive  differ- 
ence in  political  views.  McFarland  had  frankly  told  his  friend 
that  the  doctrine  of  "  State-rights,"  upon  which  the  Southern 
States  based  their  belief  in  the  right  of  secession,  would  never 
be  acquiesced  in  by  the  large  majointy  who  opposed  it  as  untrue. 
Warm  discussions  frequently  sprung  up  when  they  met;  but 
their  friendship  remained  unshaken,  although  the  breach  be- 
tween them,  politically,  widened  daily. 

Two  ladies  had  been  successively  employed  as  teachers  of 
his  little  girls  by  Mr.  Wilson,  both  of  whom  had  proved  un- 
satisfactory, when  John  McFarland  proposed  to  send  for  a 
niece  of  his,  living  in  the  State  of  New  York,  to  act  as  govern- 
ess in  his  friend's  family.  This  lady  arrived  about  the  first  of 
May.  Our  engraving  shows  her  first  introduction.  The  in- 
creasing political  agitation  at  this  time  caused  much  apprehen- 
sion on  the  part  of  all  Southern  people  who  received  one  fi*om 
the  North  into  their  family.  Mrs.  Wilson  gives  positive  instruc- 
tions against  the  mention  of  forbidden  topics  to  her  little  girls, 
and  feels  re-assured  by  the  willing  assent  of  their  new  teacher. 

Miss  Maude  Campbell  had  first  met  her  uncle,  John  McFar- 
land, and,  by  him  cautioned  and  urged  to  discretion,  she  made 
a  most  favorable  impression  upon  Stephen  Wilson  and  his  wife. 
It  was  not  many  weeks  until  she  enjoyed  their  fullest  confi- 
dence, and  cemented  a  friendship  which  the  dark  clouds  of  war, 
soon  to  burst  and  bring  disaster  and  ruin,  were  not  sufficient  to 
sever.  The  little  girls  clung  to  her  as  to  an  aunt,  or  an  elder 
sister,  and  obeyed  each  command,  though  breathed  as  the  gen- 
tlest wish.  The  slaves  about  the  household  revered  and  hon- 
ored her  as  they  would  have  done  a  distinguished  guest.  The 
high-bred  young  gentlemen  of  Huntsville  and  the  surrounrling 
plantations  courted  her  acquaintance  as  a  favor,  and  their  sisters 
consulted  her  with  confidence  in  her  educated  judgment. 

Thus  closed  the  old  year  and  opened  the  new,  while  the  rum- 
ble of  approaching  war  grew  daily  in  loudness,  and  none  were 


A  SHORT  RECKONING.  147 

permitted  to  take  neutral  ground.  Stephen  Wilson  was  not 
silent.  His  voice  was  heard  in  the  repeated  pledge  of  his  time, 
his  money,  and  his  life  for  the  cause  of  freedom.  And  these 
were  no  idle  words.  When  once  his  State  decided  to  separate 
from  the  Union,  he  threw  himself  into  the  struggle,  and  as  the 
colonel  of  a  full  regiment  participated  in  one  of  the  first  battles 
of  the  war. 

How  swiftly  the  scene  changes!  In  a  few  short  months  the 
husband  and  father  had  passed  away — killed  in  battle!  The 
new  governess  had  returned  to  her  Northern  home.  The  gen- 
tle wife  and  mother,  with  her  children,  removed  to  the  town  for 
safety.  Shortly  afterward  the  stately  mansion  was  burned  to 
the  ground.  Her  money,  invested  in  Confederate  bonds,  soon 
ceased  to  bring  an  income.  Her  slaves,  freed  by  the  war,  de- 
serted the  plantation,  and  her  income  from  that  source  came  to 
an  end.  But  for  the  generosity  of  her  old  neighbor,  John  Mc- 
Farland,  she  would  have  suffered  for  the  bare  necessities  of  life. 

The  war  closes!  The  bare  land,  grown  up  in  weeds,  fences 
swept  away.  Confederate  bonds  worthless!  John  McFarland 
was  bankrupted,  his  mill  burned  to  the  ground,  and  his  land 
swallowed  up  by  a  mortgage!  There  is  little  that  remains  of  the 
beauteous  picture  first  presented  to  us.  Ah,  yes,  the  glorious 
climate,  the  fertile  soil,  the  beautiful  valley,  all  remain!  The 
track  of  war  is  now  nearly  obliterated,  but  its  memories  and 
effects  yet  remain. 

p  Shoi^jp  I^EGI^ONING. 

The  position  of  a  teacher  who  takes  charge  of  a  bad  school, 
where  every  predecessor  has  failed,  is  a  critical  one.  He  will 
hardly  be  equal  to  it  unless  he  is  ready  and  able  to  punish  inso- 
lence and  insubordination  promptly  and  with  a  rough  hand. 

A  tolerably  athletic  young  man  took  a  certain  school  to  teach 
years  ago  in  Western  New  York,  after  a  number  of  pedagogues 
had  tried  it  and  given  it  up  in  despair.  The  "big  boys"  had 
driven  the  teacher  away  invariably,  and  the  discouragement  was 
so  complete  the  first  day  that  they  never  undertook  a  second 
edition.  • 

This  young  man  took  hold  with  a  full  knowledge  of  the  dif- 
ficulty, and  with  a  hope  that  he  could  succeed.  He  was  mild- 
mannered,  and  he  opened  the  school  the  first  day  with  a  plead- 

V 


148  EDUCATIONAL  DEPARTMENT. 

ing  smile  on  his  lips  that  made  even  the  small  boys  reckless. 
He  was  taking  the  names  of  the  children,  and  progressed  with- 
out difficuly  till  he  came  to  John  Tarbox,  the  ringleader  of  the 
unruly  ones,  and  the  boy  who  always  gave  the  signal  for  trounc- 
ing the  "  master."    ■ 

The  new  teacher  approached  him  with  a  sweet  smile  on  his 
face,  and  said: 

"Now,  will  you  tell  me  your  name,  please?" 

The  boy  leaned  back  in  his  seat,  put  his  feet  over  the  top  of 
the  desk,  and  looked  cross-eyed  at  the  new  teacher,  while  all 
the  school  roared. 

''  Please  tell  me  your  name,"  repeated  the  teacher,  pleadingly, 
and  without  noticing  this  rudeness. 

"Well,"  drawled  the  fellow,  "sometimes  they  call  me  Bob, 
and  sometimes  they  call  me  Pete,  and  sometimes  they  call  me 
somethin'  else,  but  you  better  not  call  me  any  thing!" 

The  mild-looking  teacher  had  been  expecting  all  this;  there 
he  had  the  advantage.  He  had  prepai'ed  himself  for  a  tight — 
not  a  fight  for  a  minute,  but  for  an  hour  or  a  day,  if  need  be; 
he  had  been  in  a  manner  trained  for  it,  and  so  just  as  the  last 
words  were  out  of  the  boy's  mouth  he  dealt  the  big  lubber  a 
blow  between  the  eyes  that  stunned  him,  and  then,  grasping 
him  by  the  collar,  dragged  him  headlong  over  the  seats,  stood 
him  up  on  the  floor  with  a  jam,  and  thundered  out,  "What's 
your  name?" 

"John  Tarbox!"  exclaimed  the  boy,  promptly,  and  with  his 
eyes  fairly  bulging  from  his  head. 

"Very  well,"  said  the  teacher.  "Take  your  seat,  John,"  and 
John  took  it. 

There  was  no  more  difficulty,  and  at  the  end  of  the  season 
that  school  was  said  to  be  the  best  in  the  country. 

fl    I^OPBPUli   <9ASE. 

President  Webb,  of  Mississippi  College,  was  interviewed  by 
sl  young  man  who  wanted  to  go  to  school.  "Well,"  said  the 
Professor,  "wlAt  do  you  know?"  "Nothing,"  responded  the 
young  man.  "Well,  you  are  just  four  years  ahead  of  some  of 
the  other  students.  It  takes  them  four  years  to  learn  what  you 
kuoiw  to  start  with.     Your  prospects  are  fine,  sir." 


THE  FAULT  OF  THE  AGE.  149 

<9HB   FAULII   op   the  fiGB. 


BY  ELLA  WHEELEB. 


The  fault  of  the  age  is  a  mad  endeavor 

To  leap  to  heights  that  were  made  to  climb; 

By  a  burst  of  strength,  or  a  thought  that  is  clever, 
We  plan  to  outwit  and  forestall  Time. 

We  scorn  to  wait  for  the  thing  worth  having; 

We  want  high-noon  at  the  day's  dim  dawn; 
We  find  no  pleasure  in  toiling  and  saving, 

As  our  forefathers  did  in  the  good  times  gone. 

We  force  our  roses  before  their  season 

To  bloom  and  blossom,  that  we  may  wear; 

And  then  we  wonder  and  ask  the  reason 
Why  perfect  buds  are  so  few  and  rare. 

We  crave  the  gain,  but  despise  the  getting; 

We  want  wealth  not  as  reward,  but  dower; 
And  the  strength  that  is  wasted  in  useless  fretting 

Would  fell  a  forest  or  build  a  tower. 

To  covet  the  prize,  yet  to  shrink  from  the  winning; 

To  thirst  for  glory,  yet  fear  the  fight — 
Why,  what  can  it  lead  to  at  last  but  sinning, 

To  mental  languor  and  moral  blight? 

Better  the  old,  slow  way  of  striving 

And  counting  small  gains  when  the  year  is  done. 

Than  to  use  our  forces  all  in  contriving. 

And  to  grasp  for  pleasures  we  have  not  won. 

The  worst  and  most  hopeless  ignorance  is  the  ignoVance 
which  mistakes  itself  for  knowledge.  The  knowledge  that  is 
least,  and  likeliest  to  remain  least,  is  the  knowledge  ignorant  of 
its  own  ignorance.  And  this  state  of  mind,  alas,  is  not  con- 
fined to  the  young!  It  is  of  hardy  growth,  and  sometimes  out- 
lives the  frosts  and  snows  of  seventy  winters. 


150  EDUCATIONAL  DEPARTMENT. 

Y}OVI   TO   ©BA6H   A   ^LASS. 

A  bright  boy,  who  has  an  exceptionally  bright  and  earnest 
teacher,  was  giving  to  a  friend  an  account  of  the  modus  operandi 
of  his  teacher  in  presenting  the  lesson.  The  boy-dialect  pre- 
vails in  his  story,  and  makes  the  picture  all  the  more  graphic: 

*'  First,  she  pitches  in  with  something  none  of  us  ever  heard 
of,  to  get  our  attention,  and  somehow  paves  the  way  by  it  to 
the  lesson,  and  there  we  sit  with  ears  all  up,  wondering  what 
will  come  next.  Then  she  begins  to  fire  brickbats,  all  of  'em 
found  in  the  lesson.  She  somehow  gets  in  all  we've  been  doing 
and  thinking  about  during  the  week,  and  has  something  to  fit 
every  fellow  in  the  class.  Slap  goes  one  brickbat,  and  I  know 
that  hit  Joe,  and  I  laugh  to  see  him  wince.  Then  there  is 
another  for  Lew,  and  he  deserves  it  too.  A  third  is  for  those 
silly  girls,  and  I  hope  they've  sense  enough  to  understand  that 
they  are  the  ones  meant.  Halloo!  that's  for  me,  and  it  hits 
hard,  with  a  kind  of  Nathan  to  David  air  of  'Thou  art  the 
man.'  My  face  gets  hot,  and  I  peep  out  of  the  corner  of  mv 
eyes,  expecting  that  everybody  is  looking  at  me.  But  they  are 
all  too  busy  dodging  their  own  missiles  to  take  notice  of  any- 
body else.  And  that's  the  way  she  goes  on,  making  it  lively,  I 
tell  you.  But  she  does  it  in  such'  a  loving  way  that  we  all  like 
it,  and  are  anxious  to  be  on  hand  next  Sunday  to  see  what  new 
things  she  has  to  say.  And  I  tell  you  what  it  is,  there  aren't 
any  sleepy  or  inattentive  scholars  in  our  class." 

What  the  boy  thus  describes  in  his  own  peculiar  rhetoric 
is  what  we  call  true  teaching.  We  happen  to  know  that  this 
teacher  is  one  of  the  most  successful  soul-winners. 

fiSl{  Othef^s. 

While  young,  get  help  in  selecting  reading-matter.  It  pays. 
So  much  time  is  wasted  by  the  perusal  of  what  we  care  nothing 
for  in'the  end,  and  is,  as  any  one  would  have  told  us  who  had 
read  the  book,  not  worth  reading. 

It  is  not  a  difficult  matter  to  learn  much  concerning  books,  if 
we  but  take  pains  to  inquire,  without  reading  them.  Of  coursef 
we  cannot  always  be  influenced  by  others  in  our  choice,  but 
many  times  we  can  be  aided  by  them. 


4(ETgHES  *  FOR  ^  PARENTS. 

©Ar^ENTAL   I^BSPONSIBILIIIIY. 


BY  W.  W.  BEEESE. 


'.•^~  OU  may  make  of  your  child  what  you 
please.  You  will  certainly  make  of  your 
child  whatever  he  becomes,  whether  the  re- 
sult pleases  you  or  not.  Said  a  celebrated 
French  infidel,  "Give  me  the  first  five  years  of  a 
child's  life,  and  I  will  so  fix  his  opinions  that  no 
amount  of  religious  teaching  will  ever  affect  him." 
The  mobility  of  a  child's  mind  is  so  great  that  early 
impressions  are  never  effaced,  and  the  testimony  of 
many  a  man  has  been  that  his  mother's  prayers  and 
pious  example  have  saved  him,  although  she  passed 
away  in  his  early  youth.  It  is  well  authenticated  that 
the  character  and  physical  appearance  have  both  been 
greatly  modified  and  changed  by  a  foster-*mother,  or 
nurse,  who  never  saw  the  child  after  it  was  two  years 
old. 

The  power  of  example  is  enormous,  and  what  par- 
ents do  will  have  greater  weight  in  forming  the  child's 
character  than  all  the  good  advice  they  can  give. 
Hence,  you  ought  to  be  extremely  careful  not  to  in- 
dulge in  any  mean  act,  or  hypocrisy,  or  deceit  of  any 

(151) 


152  SKETCHES  FOR  PARENTS. 

kind  before  a  child.  Children  are  sharper  than  you 
think;  the}'  notice  every  little  thing  that  is  out  of 
the  ordinary  channel.  The  common  sin  of  affectation, 
or  pretense  to  being  what  one  is  not,  is  easily  detected 
by  a  child.  Backbiting,  tale-bearing,  and  eavesdrop- 
ping, are  common  evils  in  many  families  which  pass 
for  well-conducted,  moral,  and  even  religious.  The 
parents  go  on  the  plan  of  the  horse-racing  parson,  who 
told  his  flock  to  "Do  as  I  tell  you,  and  not  as  I  do!" 
But  children  are  not  apt  to  grow  up  with  a  high  sense 
of  morals  under  these  circumstances. 

"Let  us  play  we  are  married,"  said  Httle  Edith, 
"and  I  will  bring  my  dolly  and  say.  See  baby,  papa!" 

"Yes,"  replied  Johnny,  "and  I  will  say,  Don't 
bother  me  now;  I  want  to  look  over  the  paper! " 

Children  have  strange  ideas  of  grown  folks'  ways, 
now — don't  they?  But  we  have  known  a  preacher 
with  a  family  of  boys  who  put  them  off  in  just  that 
way  whenever  they  crowded  about  him  and  asked 
for  a  moment's  time.  Can  you  wonder  that  those 
boys,  now  young  men,  are  giving  him  a  great  deal 
of  trouble  with  their  wicked  "ways? 

It  is  a  matter  of  astonishment  to  a  reflective  mind 
that  so  many  good  men  and  good  women  are  to  be 
found  in  the  world.  A  large  portion  of  them  have 
had  little  help  from  their  parents  toward  forming 
good,  sound,  moral  characters.  The  carelessness, 
the  inconsiderateness,  and  inconsistency  with  which 
parents  issue  commands  to  their  children  is  detest- 
able, to  say  the  least.  On  the  spur  of  the  moment 
something  is  commanded,  or  a  correction  made,  or 
reproof  administered,  which  contains  not  a  shadow 
of  justice.      But  the  parent  is  supreme  law,  judge, 


PARENTAL  RESPONSIBILITY.  153 

and  executive  officer  all  in  one,  and  a  hearing,  decis- 
ion, and  execution  sometimes  follow  each  other  so 
rapidly  that  one's  head  swims  to  think  of  it.  But, 
my  dear  parent,  if  you  find  that  you  have  wronged 
your  child,  do  not  hesitate  to  beg  his  or  her  pardon, 
humbly  and  sincerely,  and  acknowledge  the  wrong. 
Take  back  and  undo  the  harm  as  far  as  you  can,  and 
thus  set  an  example  of  moral  bravery  which  will 
dwell  in  your  child's  memory  through  all  eternity. 

A  powerful  example  for  evil,  in  many  of  our  Amer- 
ican homes,  is  the  way  servants  are  treated.  Children 
learn  an  arrogance,  an  overbearing  spirit,  which  ren- 
ders them  disagreeable  and  unpopular  all  their  lives. 

Cardan,  praising  the  Venetian  patricians,  particu- 
larly notices  their  gracious  and  liberal  manners  to- 
ward their  servants.  "  He  recommends  the  utmost 
gentleness  and  humanity  toward  them.  Of  the  noble 
warrior  Vectius  it  was  said:  "  He  governs  all  who  are 
subject  to  him  less  by  authority  than  by  reason.  One 
would  say  he  was  rather  the  steward  than  the  master 
of  his  house."  Certainly,  if  for  no  other  than  selfish 
motives,  we  should  adopt  the  same  gentleness  in  our 
households. 

Gentleness,  firmness,  cheerfulness,  evenness  of  tem- 
per, all  go  to  make  the  character  of  a  model  parent. 
Make  your  home  cheerful  and  beautiful  if  you  would 
have  beautiful  children,  and  see  them  go  out  into  the 
world  and  make  you  proud  and  happy  by  their  lives. 
Teach  your  children,  then,  to  love  the  beautiful.  Give 
them  a  corner  in  the  garden  for  flowers;  encourage 
them  to  put  it  in  the  shape  of  hanging  baskets;  show 
them  where  they  can  best  view  the  sunset;  rouse  them 
in  the  morning,  not  with  the  stern  tune  "To  work," 


154  SKETCHES  FOR  PARENTS. 

but  with  the  enthusiastic  "See  the  beautiful  sunrise!" 
Buy  for  them  beautiful  pictures,  and  encourage  them 
to  decorate  their  rooms  in  his  or  her  childish  way. 
Give  them  an  inch,  and  they  will  go  a  mile.  Allow 
them  the  privilege,  and  they  will  make  your  home 
beautiful. 

Some  of  you  may  say  this  is  all  sentimental  stuff, 
when  you  have  to  work  so  hard  for  daily  bread;  but 
one  thing  is  certain:  others,  who  have  worked  just  as 
hard  as  you,  have  done  these  things  successfully.  It 
certainly  will  require  little  more  time  than  you  bestow 
in  trying  to  keep  up  senseless  "  appearances  "  in  some 
other  direction.  This  is  especially  true  of  most  moth- 
ers of  daughters.  The  time  wasted  on  senselessly 
"primping"  is  patent  to  every  one. 

The  most  senseless  folly  of  this  age  is  "bangs"  on 
girls  and  young  women.  Said  a  lady  of  wide  influence 
and  great  judgment:  "I  cannot  see  why  it  should  be 
so  fashionable  to  wear  bangs!  I  never  hear  a  man 
praise  the  fashion,  nor  speak  of  bangs  adding  to  any 
woman's  good  appearance.  On  the  other  hand,  most 
men  make  fun  of  girls  who  wear  their  hair  cut-off  over 
their  eyes.  It  certainly  makes  many  otherwise  good- 
looking  girls  very  ugly  and  homely.  I  have  heard 
some  girls  compared  to  apes  and  monkeys  in  their 
appearance,  with  their  hair  hanging  down  in  their 
eyes." 

There  are  many  other  senseless  things  in  modern 
female  fashions,  but  we  will  only  name  one  more. 
High-heeled  shoes,  and  usually  thin  ones  at  that,  cause 
more  misery  and  death  than  any  one  thing  else  in  the 
way  of  dressing. 

How  shall  we  dress  a  child?    If  a  boy,  put  on  good 


PARENTAL  RESPONSIBILITY.  165 

warm,  thick  clothing  in  the  winter,  with  solid,  well- 
litting  shoes,  and  let  him  run.  If  a  girl,  the  same  ad- 
vice holds  good,  only  we  would  emphasize  the  last 
sentence,  to  let  her  run!  You  don't  need  to  turn  your 
children  out  on  the  streets  in  order  to  do  this.  If  your 
door-yard  is  big  enough,  let  them  have  it  all  to  them- 
selves. Otherwise,  the  porch  and  hall,  or  a  room  in 
the  house;  and  do  let  them  shout,  and  jump,  and  ex- 
ercise! Then,  when  your  girl  gets  older,  don't  think 
you  must  gird  her  up  with  a  corset,  and  hang  her 
skirts  from  her  waist.  Let  her  clothing  hang  from 
the  shoulders  until  she  is  grown.  And  finally,  if  you 
want  to  spare  your  children  from  corns,  cold  feet, 
chilblains,  and  other  diseases,  don't  put  on  elastic  or 
other  garters  to  stop  the  circulation  of  the  blood. 
Fasten  the  stockings  to  the  cMthing  that  hangs  from 
the  shoulders. 

Why  not  train  up  your  bpys  to  follow  the  same  pro- 
fession or  business  that  you  follow,  always  supposing 
that  you  have  an  honorable  business  and  the  one  that 
you  delight  in?  I  know  that  this  is  directly  opposed 
to  all  our  American  traditional  usage;  but  is  it  wise? 
The  best  blacksmith  we  ever  knew  was  the  son  of  a 
blacksmith,  and  grew  rich  while  his  brothers,  who 
never  followed  that  occupation,  made  small  fortune  or 
success.  The  best  mason  said  that  his  father  and  his 
grandfather  were  masons,  and  his  son  learned  the 
trade  and  became  a  contractor  and  master-builder. 
Charles  Spurgeon  was  the  son  and  grandson  of  preach- 
ers. Our  family  physician  is  the  son  of  a  physician, 
and  also  the  grandson,  on  his  father's  side,  of  a  well- 
known  physician.  John  Adams  was  President  of  the 
United  States.     His  son,  John  Quincy,  also  became 


156  SKETCHES  FOR  PARENTS. 

President,  and  great  talent  yet  remains  in  their  de- 
scendants. The  most  successful  farmers  we  have 
ever  know^n  descended  from  a  long  line  of  farmers. 
Certainly,  all  other  things  being  equal,  your  boy  will 
be  best  fitted  to  follow  the  business  you  follow  when 
he  is  ready  to  go  at  his  life's  work,  if  you  have  had 
your  heart  in  your  w^ork  enough  to  magnify  it  in  his 
presence. 

A  word  to  mothers  who  are  bearing  the  burden  of 
.responsibility  alone.  Do  not  despair,  nor  grow  weary! 
Especially  if  you  are  a  Christian,  you  have  no  cause 
to  despair;  and  if  you  are  not  a  Christian,  your  first 
duty  is  to  become  one.  Do  not  wait,  but  for  your 
child's  sake,  at  least,  come  to  the  source  of  all  wisdom, 
that  you  may  receive  guidance  whence  there  is  no  pos- 
sibility of  a  mistake.  Timothy  was  made  ready  and 
prepared  for  the  Lord,  and  that,  too,  by  his  grand- 
mother and  mother,  while  it  is  very  likely  that  his 
father  was  even  opposed  to  it,  as  he  was  a  Greek. 
Let  Christian  mothers  who,  unfortunately,  may  have 
irreligious  husbands,  take  encouragement.  The  charm 
of  a  pious  mother's  life  is  often  too  mighty  for  the  evil 
influence  of  an  ungodly  father's  example. 

Undbi^  the  Shadow. 

"Well,  what  kind  of  a  meeting  to-night?" 

It  was  the  minister's  wife  who  asked  this,  as  the  minister 
entered  the  parsonage  sitting-room  direct  from  the  Thursday 
evening  prayer-meeting. 

The  minister  sighed  wearily. 

"O,  about  as  usual;  Deacon  Abbot  asked  the  prayers  of  the 
Church  for  his  son," 

A  look  of  righteous  indignation  flashed  into  the  ministei"'s 
wife's  face. 

"Poor  Deacon  Abbot!"  she  sorrowfully  exclaimed. 


UNDER  THE  SHADOW.  157 

"Poor  Hal,  I  should  say,"  the  minister  answered. 

"Why,  what  do  you  mean?"  she  spiritedly  rejoined,  taking 
up  the  cudgel  in  behalf  of  the  deacon.  "What  do  you  mean,' 
Deacon  Abljot  is  a  bright  and  shining  light,  surely.  His  prayers 
and  exhortations  bespeak  him  to  be  a  most  saintly  man.  I  think 
he  is  greatly  to  be  pitied  in  Hal's  going  to  the  bad  as  he  does." 

"Prayers  and  exhortations  shine  only  one  way,"  answered 
the  minister  almost  bitterly,  "and" — 

But  here,  on  the  principle  that  a  thought  of  angels  causes 
sound  of  the  rustle  of  their  wings,  or  that  speaking  of  a  less 
admirable  being  is  certain  to  bring  him  behind  the  door,  came 
an  interruption  in  the  person  of  the  talked -of  deacon  himself. 

"I  felt  that  I  must  unburden  my  troubles  to  somebody, 
Brother  Harrison,"  he  said.  "That  young  scapegrace  is  bring- 
ing down  my  gray  hair  in  sorrgw  to  the  grave.  I'm  ready  to 
wish  he'd  never  been  born.  To-night,  while  I've  been  in  the 
courts  of  Zion  serving  the  Lord,  he's  been  down  to  Turner's 
serving  the  evil  one.  It  seems  pretty  hard,  when  I've  labored 
in  the  kingdom  for  five-and-forty  years,  giving  my  testimony 
eveiy-where,  and  not  withholding  my  substance  from  the  spread 
of  the  gospel,  to  have  my  child  defy  me  like  this,  and  set  his 
feet  to  destruction.  I've  threatened  the  boy,  and  expostulated 
with  him;  but  I  might  as  well  talk  to  the  wind  or  the  rain, 
he's  that  headstrong  and  unmanageable.  O  dear!  O  dear!  O 
wretched  man  that  I  am! "  And  the  deacon  groaned  and  wrung 
his  hands. 

After  the  wail  and  the  call  were  ended,  the  minister  pro- 
ceeded to  don  overcoat  and  hat. 

"Where  are  you  going?"  surprisedly  inquired  the  minister's 
wife. 

"  To  look  for  the  lost  sheep  gone  astray,"  answered  the  shep- 
herd of  souls,  passing  into  the  street. 

Down  through  the  heart  of  the  village  he  took  his  way  to 
Turner's  saloon,  where  nightly,  amidst  the  shuffle  of  cards,  the 
clink  of  glasses,  the  ribald  jests  and  maudlin  laughter  of  wicked 
men,  Hal  Abbot  might  be  found. 

By  a  fortunate  coincidence,  just  as  the  minister  passed  the 
building  Hal  came  out,  and  started  in  the  direction  of  his  home. 
Earlier  than  usual  he  had  left  the  place,  and,  as  not  always,  was 
quite  himself. 


158         SKETCHES  FOR  PARENTS. 

The  minister  seeing  him,  though  himself  unnoticed  by  Hal, 
turned  and,  retracing  his  footsteps,  presently  joined  the  young 
fellow.  In  outward  appearance  he  was  a  goodly  specimen  of 
young  manhood.  His  bright,  handsome  face  carried,  in  the 
moonlight,  a  winning  grace.  It  was  indeed  a  woful  pity  that, 
with  all  his  inborn  attractiveness  and  ability,  he  should  at 
twenty  choose  to  be  walking  with  rapid  steps  the  downward 
path. 

Pleasantly  the  minister  accosted  him,  then  linked  lais  own 
arm  through  his,  and  as  they  strolled  along  chatted  cheerily  on 
indifferent  subjects.  Hal  evidently  expected  a  sermon  with  a 
personal  application,  and  was  consequently  rather  cold  and 
unresponsive.  At  length,  however,  his  companion's  urbanity 
won  upon  him,  and  before  he  realized  it,  with  so  much  tact  was 
the  conversation  managed,  he  was  telling  his  story. 

"It  began  with  my  very  life,  Mi\  Harrison,"  he  said.  "I  re- 
member when  I  was  a  mere  baby  being  pushed  away  from  my 
father's  knee  with  a  frown  and  an  impatient  gesture.  He  never 
caressed  me,  he  never  smiled  upon  me,  nor  took  the  slightest 
interest  in  my  play  and  amusements.  My  boyish  romping  and 
chatter  made  him  nervous;  he  couldn't  nor  he  wouldn't  stand 
'such  an  everlasting  din,'  and  his  entrance  into  the  house  became 
to  me  the  signal  for  restraint  and  silence.  I  learned  to  feel  his 
absence  a  relief,  and  to  dread  his  presence.  As  I  grew  older 
he  seemed  to  regard  me  simply  as  his  tool,  made  for  no  other 
purpose  than  to  do  his  work.  He  never  encouraged  me  nor 
praised  me,  but  on  the  slightest  occasion,  and  without  any 
occasion  even,  scolded  and  punished  me.  '  Spare  the  rod  and 
spoil  the  child'  was  one  of  his  favorite  maxims,  and  he  was  for- 
ever talking  about  breaking  my  will.  His  pride  led  him  to  give 
me  a  respectable  education,  and  that  is  about  the  only  thing  he 
ever  did  give  me.  Many  a  time  I've  been  mortified  with  poor 
and  old-fashioned  clothes  among  well-dressed  boys  whose 
fathers  were  not  so  well-to-do  as  mine.  I  never  had  any 
money  to  spend,  except  for  the  barest  necessities,  and  was  held 
accountable  for  the  outlay  of  every  penny.  So  long  as  he 
could,  he  kept  me  bound  to  him  in  servile  fear,  and  when  I  got 
old  enough  to  dare  to  break  my  bonds,  I  naturally  made  the 
most  of  my  liberty. 

"He  thinks  now  that  I'm  going  straight  to  ruin,  asks  the 


UNDER  THE  SHADOW.  159 

prayers  of  the  Church  in  my  behalf,  gets  all  the  pious  old  hypo- 
crites in  the  town  to  'labor'  with  me,  sets  himself  up  as  a 
martyr  in  being  the  father  of  such  a  poor  devil  of  a  son,  and 
declares  heUl  give  his  whole  property  to  the  missionary  socie- 
ties if  I  don't  immediately  mend  my  ways.  Perhaps  I  am 
going  to  ruin — and  I  don't  care  much  if  I  am — but  he  has  him- 
self to  thank  for  it,  and  my  blood  will  be  on  his  garments  in 
the  day  of  judgment — should  there  ever  be  a  day  of  judgment. 
If  my  mother  had  lived"  (the  young  fellow's  hard  tone  soft- 
ened a  little),  "or  I  had  had  a  sister,  or  there  had  been  in  my 
home  the  thinnest  atmosphere  of  love  and  sympjlthy,  it  would 
have  been  different.  But  the  old  house  is  duller  than  a  jail,  and 
the  old  man  uglier  than  Satan;  so  I  go"  (nodding  over  his 
shoulder  toward  Turner's)  "where  things  are  livelier,  and  folks 
more  agreeable. 

"There,  sir,"  after  a  brief  pause,  giving  a  sarcastic  laugh, 
"I've  drawn  his  picture  to  the  life — the  'godly  Deacon  Abbot' 
— that's  what  people  call  him — who  is  a  pillar  in  the  Church, 
and  prays  and  exhorts  so  fluently,  and  gives  his  dollars  by  the 
score  to  convert  the  heathen.  Fireside  piety  appears  to  be  at  a 
discount  with  nineteenth  century  saints.  Deliver  me  from 
Christians,  if  he  is  a  sample" — and  again  the  young  man's 
derisive  laughter  broke  on  the  solemn  stillness  of  the  moonlit 
night. 

With  an  ache  in  his  own  heart,  the  minister  reasoned  and 
pleaded  long  and  earnestly  with  misguided  Hal. 

Reporting  the  interview  on  his  return  to  the  parsonage,  the 
pastor  remarked,  with  rather  unclerical  heat,  that  his  first  duty 
on  the  morrow  should  be  to  visit  Deacon  Abbot,  and  endeavor 
to  convince  him  that  he  was  not  in  a  thoroughly  sanctified  state, 
with  all  his  attainments. 

"It  is  dreadful,  it  is  awful,"  he  said,  "that  so  many,  many 
professors  and  possessors  of  our  holy  religion,  by  indulging  in 
some  grave  fault  or  evil  habit,  make  their  profession  and  pos- 
session of  none  effect,  so  far  as  it  i^egards  their  associates.  Hard 
as  it  may  sound,  I  believe  souls  sometimes  go  down  to  perdition 
because  of  the  sins  of  Christian  men  and  women. 

"  Deacon  Abbot  means  to  be  a  good  man.  The  Lord's  grace 
is  undoubtedly  in  his  heart.  Right  grandly  he  lets  his  light 
shine  in  some  directions,  but  toward  his  own  home  it  is  shut 


160  SKETCHES  FOR  PARENTS. 

out  by  irritability,  and  moroscness,  and  avarice.  Under  the 
shadow  which  these  have  cast  upon  his  life,  poor  Hal  has  almost 
made  eternal  shipwreck.  Almost?  Thank  God  it  is  not  quite!  I 
think  he  will  yet  be  saved,  though  the  narrowness  of  his  chance 
should  be  to  us,  every  one  who  has  named  the  Master's  name, 
as  a  warning  from  the  heavens." 

CQannbi^  and  CQannep^s. 


BY  LADY  WILDE. 


Beauty  is  generally  considered  as  the  most  seductive  and  irre- 
sistible of  social  graces.  Yet  even  beyond  the  fascination  of 
beauty  may  be  ranked  the  charm  of  manner,  and  the  brilliant 
interchange  of  thought  between  refined  and  cultivated  intel- 
lects. Manner  may  indeed  take  the  first  place  among  social 
gifts,  for  it  has  an  ethical  value  as  a  refining  influence  in  all 
grades  of  life.  It  promotes  harmony,  softens  acerbity  of  tem- 
per, and  diffuses  a  calm  joy  over  the  home-circle,  while  in  soci- 
ety it  dominates  as  no  other  gift  or  grace  can  do.  Beauty  may 
often  have  fatal  power  to  draw  souls  earthward,  and  conversa- 
tion, with  all  its  wit  and  brilliancy,  may  be  used  to  vitiate  the 
moral  sense;  but  manner  is  ever  noble  and  ennobling,  because 
based  on  the  two  great  moral  principles — respect  for  one's  self 
and  respect  for  others. 

Manner  exists  as  an  heir-loom  among  some  races — as  the  Celt, 
the  Slav,  and  the  Arab.  The  courtesy  of  the  Celt  approaches 
reverence,  and  the  Bedouin  have  the  calm  majesty  of  desert 
kings.  All  the  Latin  races  generally  have  singular  grace  of 
idiom  and  gesture,  but  the  Teuton  is  naturally  uncouth  and 
rough.  John  Bright,  in  one  of  his  eloquent  addresses  to  work- 
ing-men, says  with  truth  that  manners,  far  more  than  pomp  or 
luxury,  form  the  chief  diffei'ence  between  high  and  low,  rich 
and  poor,  the  noble  and  the  ignoble. 

If  the  uncultivated  classes  could  be  trained  into  habits  of 
mutual  courtesy  and  politeness,  if  they  were  made  sensible  of 
the  moral  beauty  of  gentleness,  forbearance,  self-respect,  and 
reverence,  there  would  be  less  of  the  hideousness  of  coarse  lan- 
guage and  brutal  self-assertion  in  their  ordinary  intercourse. 

Manner  is  a  royal  grace  that  we  are  accustomed  to  associate 


manjs^er  and  manners.  ICl 

with  high  rank  and  high  breeding,  but  it  may  dwell  in  the  cot- 
tage as  in  the  palace;  and  it  has  this  advantage,  that,  while  it 
can  beautify  all  life,  it  costs  nothing,  and  never  generated  an 
evil  thought  or  word. 

The  true  science  of  manner  is  in  the  nature  and  heart,  in  the 
sensitive  insight  into  another's  feelings,  and  in  the  instinct 
which  avoids  all  that  could  hurt  or  wound,  combined  with  the 
readiness  to  give  honor  where  honor  is  due.  But  training  and 
cultivation  are  still  very  necessary  to  bring  the  outward  gesture 
into  accordance  and  harmony  with  the  inward  grace.  The 
voice  must  be  taught  modulation,  the  intonation  brought  to  the 
perfection  of  clear  and  sonorous  music,  and  the  eyes,  the  lips, 
the  hands,  all  made  to  express  emotion  with  dignity  and  grace. 

Matthew  Arnold  says  that  the  proper  training  of  the  muscles 
of  the  mouth  would  alone  be  sufficient  to  make  a  people  beau- 
tiful and  redeem  the  lowest  type  from  utter  ugliness;  for  the 
sin  of  a  vulgar  face  lies  chiefly  in  the  helpless,  inexpressive 
mouth.  It  is  the  charm  of  the  French  mouth,  with  its  ever- 
varying  curves,  that  gives  such  intelligence  and  expression  to 
the  French  face.  But  their  language  is  labial,  and  that  in  itself 
helps  to  form  a  fine,  expressive  mouth,  with  full  command  over 
the  muscles.  There  is  therefore  a  deep  truth  underlying  the 
very  amusing  "prunes,  prisms,  and  poetry  "  recommendation  to 
young  ladies  entering  a  room;  for  in  reality  labial  sounds  should 
be  selected  and  adopted  in  conversation  in  preference  to  the 
sibilant  and  guttural,  which  distort  the  mouth  and  destroy  facial 
harmony.  The  French  look  so  well  talking  that  they  are  fond 
of  it;  indeed,  Balzac  affirms  that  in  Paris  alone  is  found  the 
spontaneous,  spirituelle,  graceful  intelligence  of  manner  from 
which  springs  all  good  conversation. 

.There  is  a  wonderfully  seductive  grace  in  voice,  tone,  intona- 
,  tion,  and  movement;  yet  how  little  they  are  cultivated!  Those 
exquisite  charms  are  almost  wholly  left  to  the  professional  artists, 
who  consequently  rule  mankind  by  their  fascination.  Yet  it 
would  be  quite  possible  to  make  every  woman  as  perfect  in  tone 
and  gesture  as  a  trained  actress.  Every  one  cannot  be  taught 
to  sing  or  paint,  but  they  may  be  taught  to  speak  clearly,  into- 
nate musically,  and  to  move  with  dignity  and  grace. 

Why,  asks  a  French  writer,  cannot  the  grace  of  the  stage,  the 
noble  movements  of  the  head,  the  hands,  and  arms,  and  the  cul- 
11 


162  SKETCHES  FOR  PARENTS. 

tivated  voice,  be  brought  into  our  ordinary  social  life?  The 
voice  alone  has  an  infinite  povs^er  to  charm;  yet  of  all  the  graces 
it  is  the  most  neglected. 

The  Greeks  fully  recognized  the  importance  of  manner,  and 
their  children  vvrere  early  trained  in  habits  of  politeness  and 
graceful  coui'tesy.  The  youths  w^ere  made  to  recite  Homer,  to 
gain  command  of  sonorous  language  and  rhythmical  cadence; 
they  were  taught  to  move  to  music,  to  maintain  a  noble  dignity 
of  bearing,  easy  grace,  a  low  and  level  tone,  and  never  to  degen- 
erate to  laughter.  Their  great  philosophers,  Pericles,  Plato,  and 
Aristotle,  were  models  of  fine  manners;  and  the  noble  descrip- 
tion given  by  Aristotle  of  the  demeanor  suited  to  a  perfect  gen- 
tleman, might  be  studied  with  advantage  in  the  highest  circles 
of  nineteenth  century  civilization. 

St.  Paul,  who  was  deeply  versed  in  Greek  philosophy,  had,  no 
doubt,  also  studied  the  Greek  code  of  manner.  Coleridge  no- 
tices the  perfect  courtesy  and  high  breeding  of  St.  Paul,  of 
which  a  notable  instance  is  his  reply  to  King  Agrippa:  "I 
would  that  thou  and  all  who  hear  me  were  as  I  am,  except  these 
bonds."  Here  was  the  courage  of  his  creed  skillfully  combined 
with  the  deference  due  to  royal  rank.  The  perfect  grace  and 
noble  dignity  of  this  answer  could  not  be  surpassed. 

Sable  CQannei^s. 

To  those  who  merely  "  eat  to  live,"  it  may  seem  a  matter  of 
small  consequence  how  one  is  dressed  when  he  comes  to  the 
table,  or  how  he  behaves  during  the  meal.  But  a  very  little 
thought  ought  to  convince  the  most  careless  person  who  is  not 
altogether  "of  the  earth,  eai-thy,"  that  good  manners  at  the 
table  are  preferable  to  bad  manners,  and  that  it  is  conducive 
alike  to  comfort  and  a  sense  of  "  the  fitness  of  things,"  that  the 
members  of  the  family  should  come  to  the  daily  repasts  not 
only  with  clean  hands  and  face,  but  neatly  attired.  The  few 
moments  spent  in  preparation  for  the  table  are  not  time  mis- 
spent. On  the  contrary,  the  slight  loss  of  time  is  more  than 
made  up  by  the  increased  charm  of  the  family  gathering.  One 
can  eat  as  heartily  in  "  shirt-sleeves "  or  with  tousled  locks  as 
in  a  decent  coat  or  with  nicely-ordered  hair;  but  the  atmosphere, 
so  to  speak,  of  the  table  will  be  far  more  agreeable  and  refined 
in  the  one  case  than  in  the  other.     The  simple  formality  of  put- 


TABLE  MANNERS.  163 

ting  on  a  coat  and  brushing  the  hair  has  a  tendency  to  exalt  the 
meal  from  a  mere  feeding-process  into  a  festival,  not  only  for 
eating  and  drinking,  but  for  the  interchange  of  social  courtesies 
and  pleasant  words.  Of  course,  no  amount  of  outside  polish 
can  do  this  unless  the  members  of  the  family  have  it  in  them 
to  be  courteous  and  agreeable;  but,  given  the  disposition,  the 
<lressing  up  for  the  table  has  its  effect — and  no  small  one,  either 
— in  transmuting  the  inw^ard  feeling  into  outward  action. 

With  regard  to  the  behavior  at  table,  a  contributor  to  the 
Evening  Post  gives  some  excellent  hints,  of  which  the  following 
are  the  chief: 

"  It  is  impossible  to  estimate  properly  the  immense  influence 
which  is  exerted  upon  a  household  by  the  atmosphere  of  the 
family  table.  A  neat,  well-ordered  table  is  in  itself  a  lesson  to 
the  children.  To  the  inviting  table,  where  there  should  always 
be  something  attractive,  however  simple  the  meal  may  be,  most 
children  will  come  prepared  to  behave  properly. 

"  It  really  is  worth  while,  and  when  philosophically  considered 
is  a  matter  of  great  importance,  to  lay  aside,  as  far  as  possible, 
all  thoughts  of  the  hard  work  done  before  and  to  be  done  after 
a  meal,  and  to  allow  no  vexatious  questions  to  be  discussed  at 
this  time.  The  habit  of  brooding  over  our  work,  and  exhaust- 
ing ourselves  by  going  it  all  over  in  our  minds,  is  one  to  be  stu- 
diously avoided.  There  is  nothing  which  takes  from  one's 
energy  more  than  this,  and  it  is  a  frequent  cause  of  insanity. 
Everybody  knows  that  food  digests  better  when  eaten  in  agree- 
able company.  It  was  something  morie  than  a  pleasantry  which 
made  a  friend  remark  that  he  could  not  have  his  wife  and  child 
pass  the  summer  vacation  away  from  him,  as  it  gave  him  dys- 
pepsia. The  poor  child  who  comes  to  grief  at  the  table,  and  is 
sent  away  from  it  with  his  dinner  half  eaten,  and  who  suffers 
the  whole  afternoon  with  an  undigested  lump  of  food  in  his 
stomach,  is  to  be  pitied. 

"It  follows,  then,  that  pleasant  surprises  in  the  way  of  pre- 
paring favorite  dishes,  that  good  taste  and  much  painstaking 
in  arranging  all  the  appointments  of  the  table  and  dining-room, 
rise  above  a  mere  ministering  to  the  animal  existence,  and  affect 
the  fine  issues  of  life.  Good  behavior  and  cheerfulness  ought 
to  accompany  each  meal  as  naturally  and  unvaryingly  as  bread 
and   butter.     The   happy  laughter  which   distributes    nervous 


164  SKETCHES  FOR  PARENTS. 

force,  and  calls  the  blood  from  the  brain,  allowing  the  stomach 
to  get  its  share,  should  be  heard  more  frequently  at  our  tables. 
No  one  should  feel  at  liberty  to  say  one  word  which  is  not  at 
least  kind  and  thoughtful,  any  more  than  he  would  withhold  a 
sufficient  quantity  of  food." 

Gulls'  fflANNBr^s. 

If  our  little  girls  greet  their  brothei"s  and  sisters,  and  perhaps 
even  their  parents,  boisterously,  if,  instead  of  "Good  morning!  " 
they  cry,  "Halloo,  papa!  Halloo,  mamma!"  and  call  playmates 
in  the  streets  in  the  same  rough  manner,  who  will  be  surprised 
if  this  style  follows  them  as  they  grow  up  and  appear  as  young 
ladies? 

Referring  to  this  unlady-like  manner  and  mode  of  address, 
a  gentleman  writes  that,  passing  two  pretty,  well-dressed,  styl- 
ish young  ladies  in  the  public  street,  he  was  surprised  to  hear 
one  meet  the  other  with  "Halloo,  Sid!"  and  the  other  respond^ 
"Halloo,  Tude!"  to  her  friend's  greeting,  and  he  remarks:  "It 
was  just  what  two  loungers  might  have  said — or  stable-boys, 
for  that  matter.  It  might  not. have  been  so  much  out  of  the 
way  for  the  latter,  but  I  confess  it  sounded  very  odd  and  offen- 
sive in  what  I  supposed  to  be  two  well-bred  young  ladies;  as 
much  so  as  if  I  had  heard  two  beautiful,  gay,  and  rose-colored 
birds  begin  to  swear.  It  was  so  unnatural  and  out  of  place.  It 
may  be  the  '  style '  for  young  girls  or  ladies  to  greet  each  other 
with  a  'Halloo!'  but  I  can't  like  it  or  get  used  to  it.  These 
things  may  seem  but  a  trifle,  but  they  make  all  the  difference 
between  nice  things  and  very  common  things." 

CQai^ing  Boys  Gentlemen. 

How  many  mothers  complain  that  their  boys  are  not  gentle- 
manly, without  ever  considering  whether  the  boys  are  treated 
in  anywise  like  gentlemen.  The  "  boys' "  room  is  too  often  a 
cheerless,  unattractive  place,  with  no  toilet  conveniences,  and 
scarcely  such  as  are  necessary.  Do  not  say  it  is  of  no  use  to 
put  nice  things  in  so  untidy  a  place.  If  you  want  to  interest  a 
boy  in  keeping  himself  and  his  room  in  gentlemanly  order,  give 
him  some  encouragement  to  do  so  by  providing  a  little  some- 
thing luxurious  and  ornamental.  A  little  will  sometimes  go  a 
great  way. 


rulel^  for  training  children.        165 
Good  Lianguagb. 

As  soon  as  a  child  begins  to  lisp  its  first  broken  sentences,  its 
education  should  begin.  Habits  are  formed  which  will  exist  to 
a  greater  or  less  degree  throughout  life.  Such  being  the  case, 
the  conversation  of  the  older  members  of  the  family  should  be 
carefully  guarded,  lest  the  little  ones  learn  ungrammatical  ex- 
pressions and  slang,  which,  sad  to  say,  is  so  rife  among  our 
young  people  of  the  present  day.  The  servants,  with  whom 
children  spend  much  of  their  time,  should  be  chosen  with  ref- 
erence to  this  matter.  A  mother  should  feel  it  her  duty  to  point 
out  any  grammatical  mistakes  made  by  them,  and  insist  upon 
their  language  being  correct,  respectful,  and  void  of  slang  at  all 
times.  It  is  exceedingly  difficult  to  break  children  of  habits 
once  formed,  and  care  in  this  direction  will  save  much  trouble 
and  annoyance.  One  way  to  cultivate  the  use  of  language,  and 
at  the  same  time  to  learn  of  the  occupations  and  companions  of 
her  children,  is  for  the  mother  to  encourage  the  daily  narration 
of  what  they  have  seen,  heard,  and  enjoyed,  and  the  telling  of 
their  little  experiences..  The  study  of  pictures,  moreover,  in 
which  every  child  delights,  may  be  used  as  a  provocation  of 
language.  Children  always  love  to  look  at  pictures,  and  can 
almost  always  be  induced  to  talk  about  them.  This  study 
teaches  them  observation,  and  how  accurately  to  describe  what 
they  see.  When  stories  are  I'ead  to  children,  they  should  be 
obliged  to  reproduce  them,  using  as  far  as  possible  the  language 
of  the  book.  The  memory  is  strengthened  in  this  way,  a  habit 
of  attention  is  formed,  and  the  power  of  expression  increased. 
If  such  plans  as  these  are  systematically  carried  out,  they  will 
prove  a  wonderful  help  in  the  thorough  education  of  a  child. 

I^ULES  poi^  Spraining  ^hildp^bn. 

From  your  child's  earliest  infancy  inculcate  the  necessity  of 
instant  obedience.  Never  hire  your  child  to  mind  you.  Never 
threaten  your  child  in  order  to  make  it  mind.  If  you  tell  your 
chijd  to  do  something,  show  him  how  to  do  it,  and  see  that  it  is 
done. 

Never  punish  children  to  make  them  mind,  but  rather  punish 
them  because  they  have  not  minded,  and  that  every  time-  they 
disobey.    Always  punish  your  children  for  willfully  disobeying 


16G  SKETCHES  FOR  PARENTS. 

you,  but  never  punish  in  anger.  On  no  account  allow  them  to 
do  at  one  time  what  you  have  forbidden,  under  the  same  cir- 
cumstances, at  another.  Never  lie  to  your  child  by  telling  him 
you  will  punish  him  for  a  fault,  and  then  not  do  it.  Remember 
that  a  little  present  punishment,  when  the  occasion  arises,  is 
much  more  effectual  than  the  threatening  of  a  greater  punish- 
ment should  the  fault  be  renewed. 

Make  it  a  rule  not  to  give  your  children  what  they  cry  for, 
except  when  so  young  that  they  cannot  make  their  wants  known 
in  any  other  way.  Unite  firmness  with  gentleness.  Let  them 
always  understand  that  you  mean  what  you  say.  Never  prom- 
ise any  thing  unless  you  are  quite  sure  you  can  fulfill  it.  If 
they  give  way  to  petulance  or  ill-temper,  wait  till  they  are  calm, 
and  then  gently  reason  with  them  on  the  impropriety  of  their 
conduct.  Never  let  them  perceive  that  they  vex  you,  or  make 
you  lose  your  self-command. 

Teach  your  children  self-denial,  and  never  allow  self-indul- 
gence of  an  angry  and  resentful  spirit.  Never  allow  tale-bear- 
ing. Accustom  them  to  make  their  little  recitals  with  perfect 
truth.  Teach  them  that  the  only  sure  and  easy  way  to  appear 
good  is  to  be  good.  Never  act  the  part  of  a  tyrant  or  despot 
because  they  cannot  help  themselves.  Never  call  them  names. 
Be  very  careful  of  their  feelings;  never  wound  them  unneces- 
sarily. 

Train  the  older  children  to  have  a  care  over  the  younger  and 
feel  responsible  for  their  conduct.  Never  find  fault  with  a  child 
for  playing,  except  for  particular  reasons.  Provide  innocent 
amusements  for  them,  and  play  with  them  sometimes. 

Frequently  be  ashamed  of  yourselves  for  your  unkindness  to 
your  children,  and  pray  God  to  foi-give  you;  and  when  he  does, 
do  better  afterward,  or  else  conclude  that  your  repentance  was 
a  sham.  If  you  find  you  cannot  do  any  better  by  them,  set 
yourself  down  as  all  wrong,  and  so  repent  as  a  whole  in  dust 
and  ashes  before  God. 

Intimacy  between  father  and  son  is  difficult.  Happy,  thrice 
happy,  is  the  son  who  has  shared  it,  and  wise  above  men  the 
father  who  secured  it.  It  will  go  farther  toward  securing  the 
son's  temporal  and  eternal  success  than  any  other  agency.  By  all 
means,  if  you  are  a  father,  cultivate  your  son's  perfect  confidence. 


SENSIBLE  ADVICE.  167 

Sensible  flDviGS. 

A  distinguished  writer,  speaking  of  the  duties  which  parents 
owe  their  children,  says:  "A  mother  makes  a  great  mistake 
when  she  does  not  constantly  court  the  confidence  of  her  daugh- 
ter. The  daughter  should  share  all  her  secrets  with  her  mother. 
Many  a  home  has  been  blighted,  and  shame  has  come  to  many 
a  household,  because  the  mother  was  too  busy  or  too  careless  to 
keep  herself  in  constant  sympathy  with  her  daughters.  The 
same  is  true  of  the  father  and  son.  The  young  man  who  spends 
his  evenings  from  home,  and  feels  that  it  would  be  robbing  him 
of  his  manly  independence  if  he  should  tell  where  he  goes,  is 
banking  against  every  interest  in  the  future.  Fathers  and  moth- 
ers should  never  allow  themselves  to  grow  so  old  that  they  are 
not  interested  in  all  that  interests  their  children  and  their  young 
people.  Home  comforts,  and  home  amusements,  and  the  best 
society  of  yoimg  people,  should  be  sought  with  more  care  than 
choice  investments  in  stock  and  bonds;  for  one  pays  dividends 
only  for  a  few  years,  while  the  other  will  go  on  compounding 
its  interests  long  after  you  are  gone.  Young  people  crave  rec- 
reation and  amusement,  and  will  generally  have  it;  how  much 
better  that  it  should  be  enjoyed  in  the  homes  of  the  land,  and 
directed  by  loving  hands!  Your  wild  boys  and  thoughtless 
girls  are  mainly  recruited  from  homes  where  enjoyment  is  not 
to  be  found. 

"  The  parent  who  sees  the  boys  and  girls  of  the  household 
full  of  fun  and  frolic  should  not  grow  anxious  that  he  does  not 
see  more  tears  and  solemn  faces.  These  come  soon  enough, 
amid  the  anxieties  and  perplexities  of  life.  Make  home  the 
happiest  place  in  all  the  world,  so  that  your  sons  and  daughters, 
as  they  go  out  into  the  great  world  to  buffet  with  its  trials  and 
temptations,  will  in  every  quiet  moment  hear  the  echo  of  its 
loving  words  and  remember  its  tender  admonitions,  and  thus 
be  strong  to  conquer  in  every  honorable  pursuit." 

A  five-year-old  daughter  of  one  of  our  citizens  observed  to 
him,  in  the  presence  of  company,  at  breakfast:  "You  mustn't 
go  off  without  kissing  me,  papa."  "  I  never  forget  to  do  it,  do 
I?"  he  asked,  surprised.  '*You  may  not  forget  it,  but  some- 
times you  go  off  mad,  you  know,"  she  artlessly  replied;  The 
company  consulted  their  coffee. 


168  sketches  for  parents. 

Bad  Boys. 

The  father  who  devotes  his  Hfe  to  making  a  fortune  or  a  fa- 
mous name,  or  even  to  doing  good  to  others,  and  at  the  same 
time  gives  but  Httle  or  no  personal  attention  to  his  children,  may 
expect,  when  his  sons  come  to  act  for  themselves,  to  find  that 
his  own  views  of  honor  and  right,  of  justice  and  charity,  have 
been  modified  by  the  adoption  of  principles  that  he  himself 
most  bitterly  denounces.  Wherever  vicious  practices  appear 
in  children  there  has  been  criminal  neglect  on  the  part  of  the 
parents.  The  rule  applies  to  all  classes — to  preachers,  presi- 
dents, mechanics,  merchants,  farmers — all,  from  the  highest  to 
the  lowest.  The  fact  is  that  boys  are  grossly  neglected,  even 
by  religious  fathers.  There  are  a  few  exceptions,  but  this  is  the 
general  rule.  Girls  grow  up  better  than  boys,  not  because  they 
are  by  nature  made  of  better  material,  but  because  fathers  are 
not  as  careful  of  their  sons  as  mothers  are  of  their  daughters. 
The  sweetest  comfort  of  a  man  in  old  age,  next  to  the  conscious 
grace  of  God  in  the  heart,  must  come  from  the  good  characters 
of  his  children,  while  the  greatest  anguish  must  come  from  the 
wickedness  of  their  lives.  But  to  escape  this  sorrow  and  pos- 
sess this  comfort  is  not  a  thing  of  chance,  but  of  calculation  and 
toil.  The  seed  sown  in  ground  prepai'ed  will  come  up,  and 
when  up,  if  cultivated,  will  bring  a  rich  harvest.  "A  wise  son 
maketh  a  glad  father,  but  a  foolish  son  despiseth  his  mother.'" 

OLD-PASHIONBD  (QoltHEI^. 

Thank  God  some  of  us  have  an  old-fashioned  mother.  Not 
a  woman  of  the  period,  enameled  and  painted,  with  her  great 
chignon,  her  curls,  and  bustle,  whose  white,  jeweled  hands 
never  felt  the  clasp  of  baby  fingers;  but  a  dear,  old-fashioned, 
sweet-voiced  mother,  with  eyes  in  whose  clear  depth  the  love- 
light  shone,  and  brown  hair,  just  threaded  with  silver,  lying 
smooth  upon  her  faded  cheek.  Those  dear  hands,  worn  with 
toil,  gently  guided  our  tottering  steps  in  childhood,  and  smoothed 
our  pillow  in  sickness,  ever  reaching  out  to  us  in  yearning  ten- 
derness. Blessed  is  the  memory  of  an  old-fashioned  mother! 
It  floats  to  us  now  like  the  beautiful  perfume  from  some  wooded 
blossoms.  The  music  of  other  voices  may  be  lost,  but  the  en- 
trancing memory  of  hers  will  echo  in  our  souls  forever.     Other 


HOME  ATMOSPHERE.  16D 

faces  may  fade  away  and  be  forgotten,  but  bers  will  shine  on. 
When,  in  the  fitful  pauses  of  busy  life,  our  feet  wander  back 
to  the  old  homestead,  and,  crossing  the  well-worn  threshold, 
stand  once  more  in  the  room  so  hallowed  by  her  presence,  how 
the  feeling  of  childish  innocence  and  dependence  comes  over 
us,  and  we  kneel  down  in  the  molten  sunshine  streaming  through 
the  open  window — ^just  where,  long  years  ago,  we  knelt  by  our 
mother's  knee,  lisping,  "  Our  Father! "  How  many  times,  when 
the  tempter  lured  us  on,  has  the  memory  of  those  sacred  hours — 
of  that  mother's  words,  and  faith,  and  prayers — saved  us  from 
plunging  into  the  deep  abyss  of  sin!  Years  have  filled  great 
drifts  between  her  and  us,  but  'they  have  not  hidden  from  our 
sight  the  glory  of  her  pure,  unselfish  love. 

I)OMB  pTMOSPHEI^E. 

This  atmosphere  of  the  household,  which  either  converts  to 
Christ  or  perverts  to  fashion,  folly,  and  impiety,  is  commonly 
created  by  the  parents.  They  are  responsible  for  it.  If  the 
whole  trend  of  household  talk,  and  thought,  and  ambition  runs 
toward  money-making,  or  social  convivialities,  or  general  god- 
lessness,  it  is  the  father  and  the  mother  who  give  the  pitch. 
Nowhere  is  it  so  difficult  to  make  the  best  preaching  or  the  best 
Sunday-school  teaching  effective  on  character  as  in  the  malari- 
ous air  of  such  a  home.  As  soon  expect  to  rear  oranges  in  Lap- 
land as  plants  of  grace  in  so  godless  an  atmosphere. 

The  parental  influence  penetrates  through  the  house  with  as 
subtile  a  poison  as  escaping  gas  from  an  ill-built  furnace.  As 
Dr.  Bushnell  has  pithily  said  in  his  incomparable  book  on 
"Christian  Nurture:"  "Whatever  fire  the  parents  kindle,  the 
children  are  found  gathering  the  wood.  They  help  as  either 
apprentices  or  accessories."  If  the  father  begins  the  Sabbath 
with  some  secular  Sunday  newspaper,  the  family  will  help  him 
read  it.  If  the  parents  go  irregularly  to  God's  house,  the  chil- 
dren will  hardly  care  to  go  at  all.  If  the  mother  is  a  scandal- 
monger, she  will  make  her  children  tattlers  and  eavesdroppers. 
If  she  directs  her  servants  to  say  at  the  door  that "  she  is  not  at 
home,"  the  children  will  learn  to  be  polite  liai's.  If  the  father 
puts  the  decanter  on  his  table,  the  boys  will  soon  begin  to  prac- 
tice with  the  fatal  elass. 


170  SKETCHES  FOR  PARENTS. 

That  rich  father  who  disinherited  a  son  for  drunkenness,  and 
in  the  same  will  bequeathed  his  wine-cellar  to  certain  heirs, 
gave  a  very  palpable  proof  of  the  home  atmosphere  which  had 
poisoned  the  poor  boy.  Parental  provocation  and  ill-temper  sour 
the  very  air  of  many  households,  so  that  children  can  hardly 
escape  being  cross,  snappish,  and  irritable.  How  can  piety 
breathe  in  such  air?  How  can  a  family  be  trained  up  in  the 
knowledge  of  God's  word  when  the  Book  of  books  is  seldom 
opened,  and  the  spirit  of  its  instructions  is  no  more  known  than 
in  the  house  of  a  Mussulman? 

Even  in  the  families  of  many  professors  of  religion  I  do  not 
look  for  any  conversions,  for  I  know  that  the  most  faithful  dis- 
courses w^ill  be  destroyed  by  the  malaria  of  the  home.  It  was 
Elkanah's  and  Hannah's  godly  house  that  produced  a  Samuel. 
It  was  the  wretched  air  of  Eli's  house  which  ruined  Hophni  and 
Phinehas. 

^lEiPY   AT    f^OMB. 

Some  one  has  said,  "  No  man  is  truly  good  who  is  not  good 
at  home."  Plome  is  the  place  where  all  the  dispositions,  traits 
of  character,  and  restrained  feelings  are  let  loose  and  have  full 
play.  Public  opinion  restrains  men  while  out  in  society,  but 
the  power  of  public  opinion  is  laid  off  when  one  is  shut  in  his 
house.  So  the  best  proof  of  a  man's  piety  is  when  it  appears 
at  home.  Home,  too,  is  a  school  where  human  beings  learn  to 
be  tender  and  patient,  and  where  duty  can  be  turned  into  joy, 
and  self-denial  into  sweet  sacrifice. 

Parental  piety  does  not  stop  with  the  parents  themselves,  but 
extends  its  influence  to  the  children.  Hence  the  importance  of 
parents  setting  a  good  example  before  their  children.  Children 
soon  catch  the  spirit  of  their  parents.  You  cannot  transmit  to 
your  children  what  you  do  not  possess  yourself.  You  cannot 
be  selfish,  and  have  them  be  unselfish;  you  cannot  be  greedy, 
and  have  them  grow  up  liberal  and  generous;  you  cannot  be 
untruthful,  and  teach  them  successfully  to  be  trutliful.  You 
must  be  what  you  want  your  children  to  be.  Your  real,  per- 
sonal traits  will  be  reeled  off  of  you  on  to  the  spool  of  the 
child's  mind. 

So  children  will  not  only  imitate  the  open  deeds  of  parents, 
but  will  imbibe  the  spirit  of  parents.     Piety  at  home  ought  not 


PIET Y  AT  HOME,  1 71 

only  to  set  a  good  example  in  deed  and  spirit,  but  there  ought 
to  be  a  careful  training  of  the  children  to  prompt  obedience, 
to  subordination  to  authority. 

Let  it  be  observed  that  training  means  a  great  deal  more  than 
simply  teaching  obedience.  "To  train  a  body  of  troops  is  not 
merely  to  give  them  lectures  on  tactics,  but  to  put  them  through 
the  manual  of  arms  so  often  and  so  thoroughly  that  they  shall 
come  at  length  to  move  under  the  order  of  the  commander 
with  promptness  and  precision."  Training,  then,  it  will  be  seen, 
implies  not  only  instruction,  but  constant  drilling  and  rigid  dis- 
cipline. It  means  not  only  to  tell  a  child  what  he  must  do,  but 
showing  him  how  to  do  it,  and  making  him  do  it  over  and  over 
again,  until  the  doing  it  becomes  a  kind  of  second  nature  to 
him.  You  cannot  train  a  vine  by  merely  marking  out  on  the 
wall  the  place  where  you  want  the  vine  to  run,  but  by  leading 
it  carefully  along,  and  fastening  it  by  the  proper  means  in  that 
place  till  it  grows  to  it.  So  men  are  trained  as  soldiers  to  march 
to  time,  to  halt,  to  wheel,  to  fall  back,  to  run,  to  jump  ditthes, 
and  scale  walls  at  the  command  of  their  leader. 

These  illustrations  will  serve  to  show  what  is  the  real  mean- 
ing of  "  training  up  children  in  the  way  they  should  go,  and 
when  they  are  old  they  will  not  depart  from  it."  It  is  breaking 
down  their  wills  to  perfect  submission  to  the  parent's  will,  as 
the  soldier's  will  is  brought  into  complete  subordination  to  that 
of  his  commander.  It  is  leading  them  to  practice,  day  by  day, 
steadily  and  regularly,  the  lessons  and  duties  of  home-life. 

We  think  that  most  parents  blunder  in  teaching  and  threat- 
ening too  much,  and  in  training  too  little.  There  is  too  much 
loose  scolding,  and  too  little  steady  enforcement  of  parental 
commands.  A  kind  of"  military  promptness  to  obey  commands 
is  needed  in  the  government  of  children.  They  ought  not  to  be 
allowed  to  shirk  orders,  nor  even  question  the  reasonableness 
of  parental  commands.  Such  training  has  many  uses  besides 
domestic  order.  It  builds  up  in  the  children  the  habit  of  cheer- 
ful obedience  to  all  lawful  authoi'ity  in  the  State  and  Church. 
No  child  will  grow  up  to  be  good  for  any  thing  that  has  not 
learned  easy  and  prompt  submission  to  social,  civil,  and  moral 
laws.  He  must  obey  the  laws  of  the  State,  or  be  a  criminal; 
he  must  obey  the  laws  of  God,  or  be  a  castaway;  he  must  obey 
the  social  laws  of  society,  or  be  ostracized.     We  see,  then,  how 


172'  SKETCHES  FOR  PARENTS. 

this  home-training  to  prompt  obedience  is  infinite!}'  important. 
It  reaches  out  and  takes  hold  on  all  the  relations  of  life,  and 
reaches  far  down  into  the  unmeasured  years  of  the  future. 

fi    Y}lKm   mo   0)OTHBI^S. 

When  Lydia  Newman's  old  Quaker  uncle  saw  that  she  had 
fastened  her  pretty  little  Newport  ties  with  poppy-red  ribbons, 
he  frowned  and  told  her  it  was  not  seemly!  But  Lydia  laughed. 
*'  I  don't  care  for  them  myself,"  she  said,  "  but  I  want  my  little 
boy  to  remember  that  his  mother  wore  red  bows  on  her  shoes." 

Who  does  not  remember  the  pretty  things  that  "mother" 
w^ore?  Her  dainty  laces,  the  pale  lilac  dresses,  the  scent  of 
violet,  the  rose  tucked  under  her  throat,  seem  half  divine  when 
they  become  but  memories  to  us.  "  Mother"  is  "  mother,"  be  she 
gentle  or  rough;  but  what  a  different  ideal  we  have  when  we 
recall  how  proud  we  were  when  we  brought  our  friends  home 
froni  school,  and  rather  surprised  them  with  her  graceful,  pretty 
ways!  Her  hair  was  so  soft,  her  eyes  so  tender,  she  talked  so 
well,  and  knew  how  to  make  a  boy  feel  at  home!  It  was  not 
necessary  to  make  excuses  for  her,  and  say  she  was  so  busv. 
The  other  boys  themselves  praised  her,  and  we  felt  sorry  for 
them,  because  we  knew  they  must  feel  how  much  sweeter  and 
prettier  she  was  than  their  mothers  could  be. 

It  is  wise  for  a  mother-to  take  time  to  dress,  and  be  fair  in 
her  children's  eyes;  to  read  for  their  sake;  to  learn  to  talk  well, 
and  to  live  in  to-day.  The  circle  the  mother  draws  around  her 
is  more  wholesome  for  the  child  than  the  one  he  has  to  make 
for  himself,  and  she  is  responsible  for  his  social  surroundings. 
It  is  not  easy  to  be  the  child's  most  interesting  companion,  and 
to  make  home  his  strongest  magnet;  but  the  mothers  who  have 
done  this  have  been  the  mothers  of  good  men. 

Maying  Debts. 

Every  child  should  be  taught  to  pay  all  his  debts,  and  to  ful- 
fill all  his  contracts,  exactly  in  manner,  completely  in  value, 
punctually  at  the  time.  Every  thing  he  has  borrowed  he  should 
be  obliged  to  return  uninjured  at  the  time  specified,  and  every 
thing  belonging  to  others  which  he  has  lost  he  should  be  re- 
quired to  replace. 


A  MOTHER  AND  DAUGHTERS.  17$ 

fl    (QOTHBI^    AND    DAUGHTBI^S. 


BY  MRS.  MULOCH  CRAIK. 


I  once  met  (it  was  at  a  garden  party)  a  clergyman's  wife — 
a  graceful,  accomplished  woman — who  introduced  her  three 
daughters,  all  so  much  after  the  mother's  type  that  I  could  not 
help  admiring  them.. 

"Yes,"  she  said,  with  a  tender  pride,  "I  think  my  girls  are 
nice  girls.  And  so  useful,  too.  We  are  not  rich,  and  we  have 
nine  children.  So  we  told  the  elder  girls  that  they  would 
have  either  to  turn  out  and  earn  their  bread  abroad,  or  stay  at 
home  and  do  the  work  of  the  house.  They  chose  the  latter. 
We  keep  no  servant — only  a  char-woman  to  scour  and  clean. 
My  girls  take  it  by  turns  to  be  cook,  house-maid,  and  parlor- 
maid. In  the  nursery,  of  course  [happy  mother  who  could  say 
'of  course!']  they  are  all  in  all  to  their  little  brothers  and 
sisters." 

"But  how  about  education?"  I  asked. 

"O,  Jhe  work  being  divided  among  so  many,  we  find  time 
for  lessons  too.  Some  we  can  afford  to  pay  for,  and  then  the 
elder  teach  the  younger  ones.  Where  .there's  a  will  there's  a 
way.  My  girls  are  not  ignoramuses,  nor  recluses  either.  Look 
at  them  now." 

And  as  I  watched  the  gracious,  graceful  damsels,  in  their 
linen  dresses  and  straw  hats — home  manufacture,  but  as  pretty 
as  any  of  the  elegant  toilettes  there — I  saw  no  want  in  them; 
quite  the  contrary.  They  looked  so  happy,  too — so  gay  and  at 
ease! 

"  Yes,"  answered  j:he  smiling  mother,  "  it  is  because  they  are 
always  busy.  They  never  have  time  to  pet  and  mope,  especially 
about  themselves.  I  do  believe  my  girls  are  the  merriest  and 
happiest  girls  alive." 

I  could  well  imagine  it. 

It  is  a  very  great  blessing  if  a  man's  home  be  in  his  own 
house,  and  especially  if  it  be  his  as  the  reward  of  honest  toil. 
The  man  who  has  won  a  home  for  himself  and  his  family,  as 
the  fruit  of  manly  labor,  has  achieved  a  great  and  true  success. 


174  SKETCHES  FOR  FAEENTS. 

"^  fflOTHBi^'s  Fai^bwbll  to  I^Br^  Boy. 

A  Christian  worker  narrated  the  following:  "In  a  quiet  rural 
village  a  mother  lay  dying,  surrounded  by  sons  and  daughters, 
but  her  mind  was  brooding  over  one  son  who  was  not  present. 
A  telegram  was  sent  to  the  absent  one,  to  his  place  of  business 
in  the  great  city.  He  showed  the  message  to  his  mastei",  who 
consented  to  let  him  go.  In  two  houi's  he  was  ascending  the 
hill  which  overlooked  his  home,  and  hurrying  down  he  knocked 
at  the  dooi",  which  was  opened  by  his  sister,  who  greeted  him 
with  a  loving  smile,  amid  showers  of  tears.  'Come  in,'  she 
said,  'you  are  just  in  time;'  and  he  walked  into  the  chamber 
of  death.  The  mother,  reaching  out  her  withered  hand,  said, 
'  I  shall  meet  you  in  heaven,  my  darling,'  and  then  she  passed 
away.  For  a  time  the  impression  made  upon  his  mind  was 
deep,  and  he  shunned  his  old  ways  and  companions;  but  as  he 
gradually  mixed  with  his  friends  he  sank  deeper  down  than 
ever  into  sin,  and  at  last  he  became  an  atheist.  Passing  down 
a  street  he  heard  some  men  singing,  '  Washed  in  the  blood  of 
the  Lamb.'  His  first  thought  was,  '  It  is  time  those  fanatics 
were  put  down;  one  can't  stir  a  step  at  night  but  you  hear 
them!'  As  he  listened  he  said  to  his  companion,  'It'sm  good 
tune  they  are  playing.'  '  Yes,  it  is,'  was  the  answer.  They 
went  into  the  meeting  together.  No  particular  impression  was 
made  upon  the  young  unbeliever;  but  he  went  again  to  the 
meeting  several  times,  and  one  night  the  chairman  asked  him 
to  read  Isaiah  Ivii.  He  saw  that  he  was  in  earnest  about  his 
soul.  Friends,  I  was  that  young  man,  and  in  my  room  I  read 
the  chapter,  and  found  rest  for  my  soul  that  night,  through 
faith  in  Christ,  the  crucified  One." 

IMPF^OYBMENT   HBBDBD. 

The  eaglets  in  the  eyrie  have  no  advantages  over  the  eaglets 
of  a  thousand  years  ago;  the  kids  have  no  superior  way  of  climb- 
ing up  the  rocks  than  the  goats  taught  hundreds  of  years  ago; 
the  whelps  know  no  more  now  than  did  the  whelps  of  ages 
ago — they  are  taught  no  more  by  the  lion  of  the  desert;  but  it 
is  a  shame  that  in  this  day,  when  there  are  so  many  opportunities 
of  improving  ourselves  in  the  best  manner  of  cqltivating  chil- 
dren, that  so  often  there  is  no  more  advancement  in  this  respect 
than  there  has  been  among  the  kids,  the  eaglets,  and  the  whelps. 


A  MOTHERS  LOVE.  175 

fl    ffiOTHEI^'S    IXOYB. 

The  one  golden  name  that  blesses  earth,  that  is  echoed  in 
heaven,  is  that  of  mother.  Around  it  shines  a  glorious  halo  of 
bright  rays,  that  never  illumines  any  other  terrestrial  title.  It 
interprets  purity,  it  means  truth,  it  denotes  devotion.  Like  the 
divine  essence  of  the  Eternal  Love,  a  mother's  love  remains, 
from  cradle  to  coffin,  the  unfaltering,  unwavering,  unselfish 
sentiment;  it  never  knows  any  diminution;  it  sings  songs  of 
self-consecration,  to  become  stronger  and  bolder  as  years  roll 
on.  To  the  children  it  appears  always  fresh  and  young;  it 
blooms  in  full  blossom  till  death's  portals  open  to  receive  the 
warm,  true  heart  that  beats  in  the  human  breast  of  woman. 
The  wrecks  and  disasters  of  life  form  no  mist  over  maternal 
eyes;  estrangements  and  alienations  cannot  decrease  the  strength 
of  affection;  separations  only  intensify  the  attachment;  life's  er- 
rors and  bli^nders  are  lost  in  the  depths  of  love.  Like  a  guard- 
ian angel,  a  mother  shields  her  child,  and  tenderly  and  gently 
succors  and  sustains  the  guilty  and  the  erring.  The  world  may 
blame  and  refuse  to  listen  to  extenuations,  and  the  culprit,  con- 
demned and  laden  with  opprobrium,  full  of  dismay  and  despair, 
beholds  himself  an  outcast  and  a  rebel;  but  this  beacon  light, 
a  mother's  love,  points  to  a  safe  and  sure  harbor,  that  will  gladly 
shelter  the  lone  and  desolate. 

Every  hand  may  fail,  even  God's  mercy  seem  hidden  behind 
a  dark  sky;  but  on  a  mothers  bosom  may  the  drooping,  de- 
spondent child  rest.  She  will  impress  a  warm  kiss  on  pale  lips; 
to  her  it  is  still  the  wild  boy  or  frolicsome  girl  of  a  happy  child- 
hood. 

"  While  she  breathes  lives  one  who  sees, 
Stand  they  pure  or  sin-defiled, 
But  the  child 
Whom  she  crooned  to  sleep  and  rocked  upon  her  knees." 

There  are  mothers  who  bewail  and  lament  filial  ingratitude, 
whose  hearts  are  pierced  with  bitter  wounds,  and  bleed  and 
ache,  because  children  prove  recreant  to  duty;  but  though  such 
mothers  pass  through  fiery  furnaces,  there  are  no  fires  that  can 
burn  their  love  to  gray  ashes  or  dead  embers.  The  helpless 
babe,  the  crowing  infant,  the  prattling  child,  the  giddy  boy,  the 


176  SKETCHES  FOR  PARENTS. 

innocent  girl,  the  proud  man,  the  comely  woman,  are  all  to  her 
the  same  dear  treasures  of  her  love.  Near  or  far,  at  home  or 
abroad,  the  mothers  jewels  are  kept  in  the  casket  of  her  heart. 
The  scene  on  Calvary  finds  some  of  its  grandeur  in  the  mani- 
festations of  love  between  mother  and  son — that  sacred  hour 
when  Jesus,  the  crucified  on  the  rough  cross,  with  a  dying  ut- 
terance gave  unto  the  meek  and  gentle  Apostle  St.  John  the 
care  of  his  bereaved  mother.  Then  were  heard  the  memorable 
words  that  signified  that  all  mothers,  of  every  land  and  clime, 
are  precious  hi  his  immortal  sight;  that  for  them  is  his  sympathy 
and  compassion  mingled  with  a  sacred  pity.  This  was  an  in- 
estimable legacy  to  all  mothers;  a  certain  testimony  that  before 
the  great  white  throne  there  is  an  Intercessor,  even  the  Son  of 
Mary.  This  death-scene  no  human  pen  can  portray  or  delineate 
of  maternal  love  and  filial  affection — the  weeping  mother  and 
the  dying  son.  We  may  ask  ourselves  why  the  burden  is  laid 
so  heavy  on  many  a  tender-hearted  mother.  A  porticm  of  Mary's 
sorrows  at  the  foot  of  the  cross  is  a  reminder  of  Him  who 
softens  all  sorrows  that  mothers  bear.  Above  is  the  invisible 
eye  that  watches  all  a  mother's  trials,  notes  her  tears,  counts 
them  up,  to  record  them  in  the  unread  book  of  the  lives  of  uni- 
versal motherhood. 

"Aye,  on  his  cross  he  thought  of  Mary's  woe, 
He  pities  still  the  mothers  left  below." 

Gems  and  crowns,  rich  jewels  sparkling  in  luster,  await  in 
paradise-palaces  the  Christian  mothers. 

DON'iP   IlBip   THE   ^HILDI^BN   ?Jt5HINB. 

A  whining,  fault-finding  person,  who  can  love?  Yet  how 
often  we  meet  them!  We  know  them  by  the  vinegarish  look 
of  their  faces  before  they  open  their  mouths — and  that  is  usually 
soon  enough,  for  they  have  to  tell  us  that  the  car  is  dusty  and 
the  omnibus  jolts,  the  lecture-room  is  ill-ventilated,  the  streets 
are  muddy  and  the  sidewalks  are  slippery,  the  groceries  bad 
and  the  dry-goods  shoddy.  This  class  of  persons  never  praise 
unreservedly.  In  their  eyes  there  is  some  fault  in  the  most 
perfect  production  of  art  and  nature,  and  it  would  be  contrary 
to  their  duty  and  inclination  to  overlook  the  flaw  and  notice  the 
beauty. 


faults  and  errors.  177 

Faults  and  Gi^f^oi^s. 


BY  J.  8.  C.  ABBOTT. 


There  are  many  faults  in  family  government  which  have  been 
handed  down  from  generation  to  generation,  and  have  become 
almost  universally  diffused.  They  are  so  general,  and  we  have 
been  so  long  accustomed  to  them,  that  their  glaring  impropriety 
escapes  our  notice.  The  increasing  interest  now  felt  in  the  sub- 
ject of  education,  by  leading  parents  to  read  and  to  think,  has 
taught  many  to  avoid  those  errors  which  still  very  generally 
prevail.  There  are  many  parents  who  have  not  facilities  for 
obtaining  books  on  this  subject,  and  who  have  not  been  led  to 
reflect  very  deeply  upon  their  responsibilities.  Some  of  these 
errors  are  such  that  an  apology  seems  almost  necessary  for  cau- 
tioning mothers  against  them,  since  common  sense  so  plainly 
condemns  them.  But  let  it  be  remembeted  how  large  a  por-  ' 
tion  of  the  mothers  of  our  land  are,  by  their  situation,  deprived 
of  those  sources  of  information  and  excitement  to  thought 
which  God  has  conferred  upon  others. 

Bo  not  talk  about  children  in  their  presence.  We  are  very  apt 
to  think  that  children  do  not  understand  what  we  say  to  one  an- 
other, because  they  are  unable  to  join  in  the  conversation  them- 
selves. But  a  child's  comprehension  of  language  is  far  in  ad-, 
vance  of  his  ability  to  use  it.  I  have  been  much  surprised  at 
the  result  of  experiments  upon  this  subject.  A  little  child 
creeping  upon  the  floor,  and  who  could  not  articulate  a  single 
word,  was  requested  to  carry  a  piece  of  paper  across  the  room 
and  put  it  in  a  chair.  The  child  perfectly  comprehended  the 
direction,  and  crept  across  tha  room  and  did  as  he  was  bidden. 
An  experiment  or  two  of  this  kind  will  satisfy  any  one  how  far 
a  child's  mind  is  in  advance  of  his  power  to  express  his  ideas. 
And  yet,  when  a  child  is  three  or  four  years  old,  parents  will 
relate  in  their  presence  shrewd  things  which  they  have  said  and 
done;  sometimes  even  their  acts  of  disobedience  will  be  men- 
tioned with  a  smile. 

There  are  many  little  artifices  which  a  child  will  practice, 
which  are  decidedly  to  be  discountenanced,  but  at  which  a  par- 
ent can  scarce  refrain  from  smiling.     These  proofs  of  mental 
quickness  and  ingenuity  are  gratifying   to   parental  feelings. 
12 


178  SKETCHES  FOR  PARENTS. 

They  give  promise  of  a  mind  susceptible  of  a  high  degree  of 
cultivation,  if  properly  guided  and  restrained.  And  there  are 
playful  and  affectionate  feats  of  childhood  which  are  pleasing- 
on  every  account.  They  show  good  feelings,  as  well  as  an  act- 
ive intellect.  Parents  will  speak  to  one  another  of  those  in- 
numerable little  occurrences  which  are  daily  gratifying  them. 
But  if  these  things  are  mentioned  in  the  presence  of  the  child, 
and  applauded,  its  little  heart  is  puffed  up  with  vanity.  How 
slight  a  degree  of  flattery  will  often  awaken  emotions  of  the 
most  disgusting  self-conceit,  even  in  individuals  of  mature 
minds!  How  few  persons  are  there  who  can  bear  praise!  Van- 
ity is  almost  a  universal  sin.  None  are  so  low,  and  none  are  so 
high,  as  to  be  freed  from  its  power.  And  can  a  child  bear,  un- 
injured, that  praise  which  has  ruined  so  many  men?  Here  lies 
one  cause  of  the  self-conceit  so  often  visible  in  the  nursery.. 
We  flatter  our  children  without  being  conscious  that  they  are 
so  greedily  drinking,  in  the  flattery.  We  do  not  give  them 
credit  for  the  amount  of  understanding  they  actually  possess. 
It  is  true  almost  all  children  are  regarded  by  their  parents  as 
unusually  intelligent.  This  arises  from  the  fact  that  we  are 
daily  observing  the  unfoldings  of  the  minds  of  the  little  ones 
who  surround  our  firesides,  while  we  have  no  opportunity  of 
noticing  the  mental  developments  of  others.  But  notwith- 
standing all  this  strength  of  parental  partiality,  we  ordinarily 
consider  children  far  less  intelligent  than  they  in  reality  are  ; 
and  a  mother  will  often  talk  as  unguardedly  in  the  presence  of 
her  child  who  is  three  or  four  years  of  age  as  she  did  in  the 
presence  of  her  infant  of  so  many  months.  The  necessity  of 
caution  upon  this  subject  will  be  obvious  to  every  parent  upon 
a  moment's  reflection.  Let  nothiag  be  said  in  the  hearing  of  a 
child  that  would  tend  to  excite  its  vanity.  Guard  against  the 
possibility  of  his  supposing  that  he  does  and  says  remarkable 
things,  and  is  superior  to  other  children. 

But  though  a  parent  may  restrain  her  own  tongue,  it  is  more 
difficult  to  restrain  the  tongues  of  others.  Many  visitors  make 
it  a  constant  habit  to  flatter  the  children  wherever  they  go. 
Regardless  of  the  ruinous  effects  upon  their  tender  and  suscep- 
tible minds,  they  think  only  of  pleasing  the  parents.  Beautiful 
children  are  thus  peculiarly  exposed.  How  common  is  it  for  a 
child  of  handsome  countenance  to  have  a  spoiled  temper.    Thi& 


FAULTS  AND  ERRORS.  179 

is  so  frequently  the  case  that  many  persons  have  supposed  that 
"spoiled  beauty"  are  words  never  to  be  separated.  I  once 
knew  a  little  boy  of  unusually  bright  and  animated  countenance. 
Every  one  who  entered  the  house  noticed  the  child  and  spoke 
of  his  beauty.  One  day  a  gentleman  called  upon  business,  and, 
being  engaged  in  conversation,  did  not  pay  that  attention  to  the 
child  to  which  he  was  accustomed,  and  which  he  now  began 
to  expect  as  his  due.  The  vain  little  fellow  made  many  efforts 
to  attract  notice,  but  not  succeeding  he  at  last  placed  himself 
full  in  front  of  the  gentleman,  and  asked,  "Why  don't  you  see 
how  beautiful  I  be.'"'  The  feeling,  it  is  true,  is  not  often  so 
openly  expressed,  but  nothing  is  more  common  than  for  it  to  be 
excited  in  precisely  this  way. 

It  is  surely  a  duty  to  approve  children  when  they  do  right, 
and  to  disapprove  when  they  do  wrong.  But  great  caution 
should  be  used  to  preserve  a  child  from  hearing  any  thing  that 
will  destroy  that  inost  lovely  trait  of -character,  a  humble 
spirit.  It  is,  on  this  account,  often  a  misfortune  to  a  child  to  be 
unusually  handsome  or  forward.  It  is  so  difficult  to  preserve  it 
from  the  contaminations  of  flattery  that  what  might  have  been 
a  great  benefit  becomes  a  serious  injury. 

Do  not  make  exhibitions  of  your  children's  attainments.  And 
here  we  must  refer  again  to  the  danger  of  exciting  vanity. 
There  is  no  passion  more  universal,  or  with  greater  difficulty 
subdued.  An  eminent  clergyman  was  once  leaving  his  pulpit, 
when  one  of  his  parishioners  addressed  him,  highly  commend- 
ing the  sermon  he  had  just  uttered.  "Be  careful,  my  friend," 
said  the  clergyman,  "  I  carry  a  tinder-box  in  my  bosom."  And 
if  the  bosom  of  an  aged  man  of  piety  and  prayer  may  be  thus 
easily  inflamed,  must  there  not  be  greater  danger  in  showing  off 
a  child  to  visitors,  who  will  most  certainly  flatter  its  perform- 
ance? You  have  taught  your  daughter  some  interesting  hymns. 
She  is  modest  and  unassuming,  and  repeats  them  with  much 
propriety.  A  frfend  calls,  and  you  request  the  child  to  repeat 
her  hymns.  She  does  it.  Thus  far  there  is,  perhaps,  no  injury 
done.  But  as  soon  as  she  has  finished,  your  friend  begins  to 
flatter.  Soon  another  and  another  friend  calls,  and  the  scene  is 
continually  repeated,  till  your  daughter  feels  proud  of  her  per- 
formance. She  becomes,  indeed,  quite  an  actress.  And  the  hymn 
which  was  intended  to  lead  her  youthful  heart  to  God  does  but 


180  SKETCHES  FOR  PARENTS. 

fill  that  heart  with  pride.  Must  it  not  be  so?  How  can  a  child 
withstand  such  strong  temptations?  Parents  may  show  their 
children  that  they  are  gratified  in  witnessing  their  intellectual 
attainments.  And  this  presents  a  motive  sufficiently  strong  to 
stimulate  them  to  action.  But  when  they  are  exposed  to  the 
indiscriminate  and  injudicious  flattery  of  whoever  may  call,  it 
is  not  for  a  moment  to  be  supposed  that  they  will  retain  just 
views  of  themselves.  It  must,  however,  be  allowed  that  with 
some  children  the  danger  is  hiuch  greater  than  with  others. 
Some  need  much  encouragement,  while  others  need  continual 
restraint.  Who  has  not  noticed  the  thousand  arts  which  a  vain 
child  will  practice,  simply  to  attract  attention?  Who  has  not 
seen  such  a  spoiled  one  take  a  book  and  read,  occasionally  cast- 
ing a  furtive  glance  from  the  page  to  the  visitor,  to  see  if  the 
studious  habit  is  observed?  And  can  such  a  child  be  safely 
exhibited  to  strangers?  It  may,  perhaps,  at  times  be  an  advan- 
tage to  a  modest  child  to  repeat  a  hymn,  or  something  of  that  nat- 
ure, to  a  judicious  friend.  If  your  pastor  feels  that  interest  in 
children  which  he  ought  to  cherish,  he  will  regard  all  the  little 
ones  of  his  congregation  with  parental  affection.  He  ought  not 
to  be  considered  as  a  stranger  in  the  family.  Children  may  ap- 
pear before  him  with  confidence  and  affection,  and  if  he  has  the 
spirit  of  his  Master  he  will  cautiously  guard  against  flattery, 
and  endeavor  to  improve  the  occasion  by  leading  the  mind  to 
serious  thoughts.  But  the  practice  of  making  a  show  of  chil- 
dren, of  exhibiting  their  little  attainments,  is  certainly  repre- 
hensible; and  it  is,  we  fear,  not  only  common,  but  increasing. 

^HI^ISIPIAN    ^AJ^ENItAGB. 

Every  child  is  a  bundle  of  tremendous  possibilities;  and 
whether  that  child  shall  come  forth  to  live,  its  heart  attuned  to 
the  eternal  harmonies,  and  after  a  life  of  joy  in  heaven;  or 
whether  across  it  shall  jar  eternal  discords,  and  after  a  life  of 
wrong-doing  on  earth  it  shall  go  to  a  home  of  impenetrable  dark- 
ness and  an  abyss  of  immeasurable  plunge,  is  being  decided  by 
nursery  song,  and  Sabbath  lessons,  and  evening  prayer,  and 
ride,  and  walk,  and  look,  and  frown,  and  smile.  O  how  many 
children  in  glory,  crowding  all  the  battlements,  and  lifting  a 
million-voiced  hosanna,  brought  to  God  through  Christian  par- 
entage! 


PRECOCITY.  181 

^I^EGOGIIPY. 

When  our  Saviour  said,  "  Except  ye  be  conrerted,  and  be- 
come as  little  children,  ye  shall  not  enter  into  the  kingdom  of 
heaven,"  it  is  absolutely  certain  that  he  was  not  thinking  of  any 
such  juvenile  monstrosities  as  are  only  too  frequently  developed 
by  our  modern  methods.  And  nowhere  in  the  world  are  these 
methods  pushed  to  such  pernicious  extremes  as  in  the  land  in 
which  we  live.  As  a  consequence,  "Young  America"  is  a 
phrase  that  has  come  to  be  suggestive  of  any  thing  but  sim- 
plicity, humility,  docility,  and  modesty.  On  the  contrary,  it  is 
synonymous  with  unhandsome  forwardness,  unhealthy  "  smart- 
ness," and  uncontrollable  self-will. 

Now,  we  cannot  bring  ourselves  to  believe  that  newly-born 
babes  in  our  times  are  in  anywise  different  from  newly-born 
babes  in  the  old  times. 

And  yet,  in  a  very  few  years,  they  take  on  a  type  of  character 
that  would  have  filled  our  great-grandfathers  with  astonishment 
and  alarm,  not  unmingled  with  disgust.  And  this  type  of  char- 
acter is  but  the  natural  and  inevitable  outcome  of  those  educa- 
tional processes  to  which  children,  in  our  day,  are  commonly 
subjected. 

No  doubt,  in  many  things  we  are  wiser  than  the  ancients. 
Nevertheless,  it  is  not  only  possible,  but  highly  probable,  that 
in  the  eagerness  of  our  ambition  in  some  particulars  we  have 
pressed  beyond  all  proper  bounds. 

And  it  is  the  deliberate  judgment  of  not  a  few  thoughtful 
people,  that  in  no  direction  is  this  more  painfully  manifest  than 
in  the  wide-spread  tendency  to  foster  the  precocious  develop- 
ment of  children. 

Parents,  proud  of  their  children,  parade  them  before  an  ad- 
miring public;  and  presently,  and  very  naturally,  "the  little  dar- 
lings "  begin  to  be  proud  of  themselves,  and  to  cultivate  and  be- 
tray, in  every  act  and  utterance,  a  sort  of  self-consciousness  that 
is  alike  un-childlike  and  unlovely. 

Don't  let  any  school-teacher,  though  he  may  have  a  hundred 
honorary  titles,  overtax  the  mind  of  your  child.  Pedagogical 
ambition  and  parental  vanity  are  often  murderous. —  0.  P.  Fitz- 
gerald. 


182  SKETCHES  FOB  PARENTS. 

0)Y    IlITTLB    Sl^AMP. 


BY  MAEY  U.  STUBGES. 


That's  he  again!  I  know  his  whoop, 

As  he  saUies  down  the  lane; 
No  need  to  stay  till  he  calls  for  "  grub," 

With  his-  face  against  the  pane. 

As  I  set  me  here  in  my  easy-chair, 

I  can  note  the  swaggering  gait 
Of  his  sunbm-nt.feet;  but  I'll  go  at  once — 

My  tramp  doesn't  like  to  wait. 

'  Little  brown  breeches  and  brimless  hat! 
I  could  tarry  me  yet  for  awhile, 
And  ponder,  my  young  king-democrat. 
With  a  mother-philosopher's  smile. 

The  possible  future  of  your  young  rule, 

The  imperious  doctrine  learned 
So  early,  alack!     "Ho,  meat!  ho,  bread!" 

Of  the  store  you  have  never  earned; 

Could  divine,  of  the  little,  tanned,  tired  feet. 

What  sort  of  a  road,  by  and  by. 
They  would  travel  apace,  and  at  even-time 

To  what  sort  of  home  would  hie. 

"Ho,  bread!  ho,  meat!"    Would  he  find  them  there? 
These  are  all  the  names  he  knows 
For  the  great  God-love  that  makes  the  home, 
For  the  fullness,  the  repose. 

Ah,  apple  cheek  and  chestnut  curls, 

That  are  lying  upon  my  breast! 
I  wonder  if  this  is  typical 

Of  the  day's  end  and  the  rest! 

And  I  lay  my  little,  tired,  worn-out  tramp 

On  his  little  bed  all  white. 
As  I  pray  that  the  blessed  Saviour's  arms 

May  gather  him  in  that  night. 


HAPFY  CHILDREN.  183 

LfOYB   lUHB   ^HILDI^BN. 

Don't  be  afraid  to  show  the  children  that  you  love  them. 
The  boy  or  girl  will  not  easily  go  wrong  whose  arm  is  twined 
morning  and  night  around  mother's  neck,  or  whose  head  is  wel- 
comed to  its  cuddling-place  on  father's  shoulder.  It  is  on  the 
side  of  their  affections  that  children  are  most  easily  held  and 
guided,  and  the  firmest  rein  is  the  invisible,  golden  cord  of  love. 
It  is  good  to  humor  children  in  following  their  natural  bent  in 
alV  right  and  helpful  directions.  Remember  that  education  is 
only  the  leading  out  of  powers  and  faculties  that  are  within. 
Encourage,  therefore,  such  inclinations  toward  books,  studies, 
mechanics,  music,  out-of-door  pursuits,  and  healthful  sports  as 
shall  help  most  truly  to  develop  your  child.  As  education 
comes  more  and  more  to  include  the  development  of  a  natural 
aptitude,  it  will  be  more  and  more  successful.  It  is  good  to 
humor  your  children  in  preserving  their  individuality  and  in 
fostering  a  true  self-respect.  Teach  them,  too,  the  value  of 
money,  and  encourage  them  to  manage  their  own  financial 
affairs.     This  will  give  them  important  experience. 

r^APPY   (gHILDI^BN. 

As  house-plants  cannot  flourish  without  sunshine,  so  children 
cannot  thrive  and  be  happy  without  love.  How  radiant  are 
their  bright  faces  as  they  respond  to  tones  and  words  of  affec- 
tion from  the  lips  of  their  parents!  Little  they  know  of  the 
<leep  solicitude  and  the  constant  care  exercised  toward  them; 
but  they  do  fully  understand  and  appreciate  protestations  of 
love  and  tenderness.  Why  should  we  be  chary  of  these,  when 
they  cost  only  speaking?  "I  know  now,"  said  a  lady  not  long 
ago,  "that  my  mother  loved  me  tenderly,  but  during  all  my 
childhood  I  doubted  it.  If  I  weie  really  dear  to  her,  I  queried, 
why  did  she  never  tell  me  so?  Why  did  she  never  caress  me, 
<md  assure  me  of  her  love?  She  thought  her  actions  spoke 
loudly  enough  without  words.  I  could  not  read  her  actions 
then  as  I  can  now;  and  how  I  longed  to  hear  her  call  me  loving 
names,  and  to  have  her  wrap  me  in  the  sweet  embrace  of  her 
strong  mother-love!"  Many  a  little  heart  aches  just  as  this 
lady's  did,  and  can  be  made  happier  by  the  spontaneous  iitter- 


184  SKETCHES  FOR  BARENTS. 

ances  of  maternal  affection  than  by  beads,  or  dolls,  fine  clothes, 
or  costly  toys. 

Children  who  grow  up  in  this  constant  atmosphere  of  love 
are  rarely  mischievous,  never  vipious.  The  mightiest  of  all 
agencies  to  lead  the  young  in  paths  of  virtue  is  in  the  hands  of 
parents,  and  to  command  this  agency  they  need  but  give  ex- 
pression to  the  natural  overflow  of  their  hearts. 

Children,  to  be  happy,  need  encouragement  and  praise.  It  i& 
not  enough  that  they  escape  censure.  Negatives  are  always- 
cold  and  blank.  Our  little  ones  want  warm,  positive  approVal 
when  they  have  done  right.  Thus  they  will  be  made  to  feel  that 
the  paths  of  wisdom  are  paths  of  pleasantness  and  peace. 

fl  Hew  Dbsii^e  and  ]?ui^posb. 

A  man  who  is  upright  in  heart  often  finds  it  hard  to  maintain 
uprightness  in  life. 

It  is  not  strange  that  he,  when  asked  to  contribute  to  some 
reform  work,  should  accompany  his  gift  with  a  smile  of  incre- 
dulity. The  smile  simply  means:  "If  you  and  I,  who  are  bent 
on  being  good,  find  it  hard  work  to  express  our  intention  in  life, 
what  can  you  expect  of  those  whose  bad  lives  are  the  expres- 
sions of  their  corrupt  hearts?" 

The  answer  to  such  incredulity — it  is  the  only  reply  that  con- 
vinces— is  to  show  him  a  reformed  person,  one  whose  desires 
and  purposes  have  been  changed. 

Such  a  presentation  is  made  in  the  following  anecdote: 

Twenty  years  ago  a  gentleman  visited  the  Massachusetts  Re- 
form School,  and  selected  a  boy  to  take  into  his  family.  The 
one  chosen  was  a  wild,  wiry  fellow,  who  had  been  sent  there 
from  the  Boston  streets.  He  quietly  accompanied  the  gentle- 
man until  they  arrived  in  Boston.  While  on  the  way  to  a 
depot  his  old  impulses  to  evil  returned,  and  he  suddenly  darted 
from  the  gentleman's  side  and  ran  up  a  side-street  full  of  tene- 
ment houses,  the  abodes  of  crime  and  dissipation.  The  gentle- 
man, being  fleet  of  foot,  soon  collared  the  boy  and  forced  him 
to  walk  to  the  cars. 

Unpromising  as  was  the  beginning  of  the  effort  to  make  a 
good  man  of  a  bad  boy,  the  gentleman  determined  to  persevere. 

After  a  few  weeks  his  kindness  won  the  boy's  heart.     Love 


A  NEW  DESIRE  AND  PURPOSE.  185 

for  a  good  man  took  the  place  of  his  evil  desires.  The  expul- 
sive and  impulsive  power  of  a  new  affection  caused  him  to 
slough  off  his  wild  influences,  and  gave  him  a  new  purpose. 
Then  he  began  to  show  himself  tractable,  obliging,  steady,  and 
gifted  with  unusual  force  of  will. 

The  love  of  a  good  person  is  a  transforming  power.  It  cre- 
ates a  desire  for  good;  the  desire  inspires  a  right  purpose.  One 
of  the  most  noble  things  a  good  person  can  do  is  to  often  allow 
a  weak  person  to  share  their  sympathy  and  society. 

One  day  the  boy  did  not  surprise  his  patron  by  telling  him 
that  he  would  like  to  go  to  school.  He  had  been  expecting  it, 
and  had  formed  his  plans.  Instead  of  sending  him  to  an  acad- 
emy, and  paying  his  expenses  there,  he  helped  him  to  obtain 
work,  by  which  he  paid  his  own  bills. 

He  took  a  special  course  at  a  neighboring  academy,  and,  as 
soon  as  he  had  completed  it,  announced  that  he  intended  to  be 
a  lawyer.  His  foster-father,  staggered  at  this  rapid  stride,  tried 
to  dissuade  him  from  his  purpose,  as  he  thought  him  unfitted  for 
that  profession.  But  the  boy,  with  characteristic  determina- 
tion, persisted. 

He  entered  a  lawyer's  office,  earned  a  little  money,  and  after 
a  year's  study  went  West. 

He  who  a  few  years  ago  was  a  wild  boy,  trying  to  break 
away  from  all  good  influences,  is  to-day  one  of  the  most  success- 
ful lawyers  in  Minnesota,  and,  better  than  that,  a  man  whose 
influence  in  society  is  elevating,  Christian,  and  helpful  to  others. 

Is  it  not  thus  that  Christ  transforms  life,  by  leading  us  to  love 
him  who  is  holy,  and  bringing  a  new  purpose  out  of  our  new 
affection  ? 

Dionysius,  the  Carthusian,  addressed  married  persons  thus: 
"Act  and  speak  to  your  servants  as  you  would  wish  others  to 
do  to  you  if  you  were  a  servant.  The  master  and  mistress 
should  show  themselves  toward  all  their  servants  loving,  pa- 
tient, humble,  and  pacific,  while  at  the  same  time  just.  Never 
should  they  speak  proudly  or  severely  to  them;  but,  if  any  fault 
should  be  committed  in  the  family,  they  ought  piously  and  pa- 
tiently to  bear  it,  or  with  charity  to  correct  it,  remembering  how 
many  faults  are  committed  by  servants,  and  yet  how  God  has 
mercy  on  them." 


186  sketches  for  parents. 

She  Family  a  School  op  ^Jbligion. 


BY  ATTICUS  G.  HAYGOOD,  D.D. 


Tradition — transmission  from  parent  to  child — is  God's  first 
and  chosen  plan  for  the  perpetuation  and  extension  of  religion 
in  the  earth.  We  do  not,  in  saying  this,  forget  the  institution 
of  a  public  Christian  ministry,  nor  do  we  in  anywise  under- 
value the  office  of  a  true  preacher  of  the  gospel  of  Jesus  Christ. 
The  Christian  ministry  is  also  a  divine  institution  —  the  true 
preacher  is  one  "  called  of  God."  To  those  who  hear  he  also  is 
^'  one  sent  from  God."  He  who  has  no  divine  vocation  and 
mission  may  be  many  other  things,  but  he  is  not,  he  cannot  be, 
a  true  preacher  of  Christ  Jesus. 

Let  us  reverence  this  holy  office  as  it  becomes  us  to  do;  and 
let  preachers  so  walk  as  to  deserve  reverence.  But  the  father 
was  a  priest  before  there  was'a  priestly  order,  as  he  was  a  king 
before  there  was  a  nation.  Richard  Watson's  observations  on 
this  subject  are  judicious:  "In  ancient  times  the  heads  of  fam- 
ilies were  their  priests;  of  Abraham  the  Almighty  said, '  I  know 
him,  that  he  will  command  his  children  and  his  household  after 
him,  and  they  shall  keep  the  way  of  the  Lord,  to  do  justice  and 
judgment;  that  the  Lord  may  bring  upon  Abraham  that  which 
he  hath  spoken  of  him.'  Nor  did  parents  cease,  in  a  very  im-' 
portant  sense,  to  be  the  priests  in  their  families,  after  the  estab- 
lishment of  the  Levitical  priesthood.  'David  returned'  relig- 
iously 'to  bless  his  household.'  In  this  respect  no  change  has 
taken  place  under  the  Christian  dispensation.  In  the  Christian 
Church,  as  well  as  among  the  Jews,  there  is  the  public  minis- 
try; but  the  head  of  every  family  is  still  its  prophet  and  its 
priest,  daily  to  offer  spiritual  sacrifices.  And  from  this  we  come 
to  a  conclusion  which  too  many  forget,  but  which  every  wise 
nnd  pious  person  will  carefully  remember,  that,  if  he  is  at  the 
head  of  a  family,  he  is,  in  fact,  a  sacred  person,  and  has  a  sacred 
office." 

Yes,  that  is  it;  the  parent  is  "  a  sacred  person,  and  has  a  sacred 
office."  The  father  is  generally  named  first  as  the  responsible 
head  of  the  family,  but  the  obligations  of  parenthood  rest 
equally  upon  the  mother.  When  God  delivers  a  solemn  charge 
to  a  father  to  bring  up  his  children  "  in  the  nurture  and  adnio- 


THE  FAMILY  A  SCHOOL  OF  RELIGION.       187 

nition  of  the  Lord,"  it  is  to  the  mother  also  and  equally.  As  it 
seems  to  us,  it  is  indispensable  to  recognize  and  accept  as  unal- 
terable two  things:  i.  The  father  is  the  representative  and  re- 
sponsible head  of  the  house.  2,  The  mother  is  equally  respon- 
sible for  the  duties  of  her  place.  Astronomers  tell  us  of  certain 
double  stars  that  revolve  about  a  common  center,  and  in  some 
vv^ay  are  necessary  to  each  other.  So  in  the  family  life  there  is 
a  common  center  of  interest  and  responsibility,  affection  and 
duty;  they  are  two,  yet  one,  and  each  is  necessary  to  the  other. 
The  parents  are  the  common  source  of  the  life  of  their  children; 
we  can  no  more  think  of  a  family  government  as  perfect  that 
lacks  either  the  paternal  or  maternal  element,  than  we  can  think 
of  parenthood  itself  as  complete  in  the  father  or  the  mother 
alone. 

The  inspired  record  says:  "So  God  created  man  in  his  own 
image."  This  is  the  first  statement,  showing  that  the  first  man 
is  the  essential  unit  and  representative  of  the  race.  But  the  his- 
torian of  creation  does  not  complete  his  sentences  without  add- 
ing this  other  word:  "male  and  female  created  he  them."  In  a 
sense  the  woman  was  created  in  the  man,  but  the  man  himself 
was  not  perfect  till  woman — the  wife-man,  his  complement — 
was  formed.  Perfection  of  humanity  is  found  in  the  union  of 
the  two;  the  harmony  of  the  family  in  the  adjustment  of  their 
resemblances  and  their  differences.  And  surely,  if  we  are  to 
study  and  understand  aright  the  fatherhood  of  God,  we  must 
understand  the  true  meaning  of  human  parenthood — not  mere 
fatherhood,  or  mere  motherhood,  but  perfect  and  entire  pai^ent- 
hood,  for  both  motherhood  and  fatherhood  are  necessary  to  com- 
plete the  image  of  the  divine  fatherhood.  Whatever  is  good 
and  precious  in  our  earthly  parents — in  our  mothers  as  well  as 
in  our  fathers — is  but  a  reflection  of  the  perfections  of  Him  of 
whom  it  is  said  in  one  place,  "As  a  father  pitieth  his  children, 
so  the  Lord  pitieth  them  that  fear  him;"  and  in  another,  "As 
one  whom  his  mother  comforteth,  so  will  I  comfort  you;  and  ye 
shall  be  comforted  in  Jerusalem." 

Let  it  be  insisted  on  with  all  possible  emphasis  that  parent- 
hood is  fatherhood  and  motherhood.  In  this  complicated  yet 
simple  relation  the  Bible  and  nature  alike  make  the  father  the 
responsible  head,  and  yet  in  no  sense  is  he  more  essential  to 
the  perfection  of  family  life  than  the  mother.     Whatever  duties. 


188  SKETCHES  FOR  PARENTS. 

therefore,  we  shall  find  enjoined  in  the  word  of  God  upon  the 
father  in  the  instruction  and  discipline  of  his  children,  these  are 
the  mother's  duties  also. 

The  father,  the  mother,  the  parent  is  a  "  sacred  person."  By  no 
possibility  can  any  other  do  the  work  of  the  parent.  The  duty 
inheres  in  the  relation.  The  responsibility  cannot  be  abridged, 
or  laid  down,  or  avoided.  The  work  of  the  parent,  in  the  re- 
ligious education  of  his  children,  cannot  be  done  by  proxy. 
Even  if  another  could  do  it  better,  it  would. not  relieve  the  par- 
ent of  his  peculiar  obligation.  The  voice  that  calls  to  this  duty 
is  imperative — it  must  be  obeyed.  But  no  other  can  do  the  par- 
ent's work  as  well  as  the  parent  himself.  He  has  the  true  van- 
tage-ground; no  other  created  being  can  get  as  close  to  the 
child's  heart  as  he  ought  to  be  able  to  do.  The  parent  holds  a 
mystic  key  that  no  other  hand  can  fit  to  the  wards  of  its  locks. 
If  the  parent  does  not  do  his  work,  it  is  forever  undone.  So 
left  undone,  the  parent  is  guilty  and  the  child  wronged,  and 
wronged  irreparably.  The  child,  in  spite  of  parental  delin- 
quency, may,  in  the  great  mercy  of  God,  be  saved  at  last;  but 
if  he  has  failed  to  receive  proper  parental  instruction  in  the 
things  of  God,  and  to  come  under  salutary  parental  influences 
during  the  formative  period  of  his  life,  he  has  suffered  a  real 
loss  that  no  blessings,  advantages,  culture,  successes  in  other 
departments  and  through  other  instrumentalities  can  ever  fully 
regain. 

Surely  since  the  wreck  of  Eden  there  has  appeared  among 
the  children  of  men  no  picture  so  fair,  so  noble,  so  inspiring, 
and  so  full  of  hope  for  both  worlds,  as  a  well-ordered  and  truly 
Christian  family.  Here,  indeed,  are  repeated  from  day  to  day 
the  miracles  of  Providence  and  the  wonders  of  grace.  Here, 
in  a  most  precious  and  peculiar  sense,  the  Lord  is  "Emmanuel," 
"which  being  interpreted  is,  God  with  us."  Here  is  seen  the 
pillar  of  cloud  by  day  and  of  fire  by  night.  Around  this  habi- 
tation manna  descends,  "  every  morning  new."  Whatever  else 
may  be  parched  and  arid,  here  there  is  dew  "as  the  dew  of 
Hermon,  and  as  the  dew  that  descended  upon  the  mountains 
of  Zion:  for  there  the  Lord  commanded  the  blessing,  even  life 
forevermore."  It  is  here,  amid  human  wrecks  and  failures  of 
best-laid  plans,  that  we  may  behold  the  guiding-star  which  leads 
us  up  to  the  world's  Redeemer. 


LITTLE  ROBBIE.  189 

LciltTLE   F{OBBIB. 


BY  HILARY  BYGRAVE. 


Our  boy  is  two  years  old  to-day, 

And  he  is  full  of  glee; 
No  flower  that  blooms  beneath  the  sun 

Is  half  so  sweet  as  he. 

His  smile  is  brighter  than  the  glint 

Of  brooklets  in  the  sun, 
And  in  his  large,  dark,  tender  eyes 

There  gleams  a  world  of  fun. 

And  when  he  issues  his  commands, 

In  tones  that  clearly  ring, 
The  household  run  to  wait  on  him, 

Like  vassals  on  a  king. 

Light  of  our  eyes,  joy  of  our  hearts, 

As  changeful  as  the  sea — 
A  precious  gift  of  God  to  us, 

A  benediction  he. 

And  yet  our  utmost  joy  is  dashed 

With  qualms  of  transient  pain. 
As  brightest  summer  skies  are  dimmed 

With  fitful  clouds  and  rain. 

What  if  the  children  of  the  light 
In  angel  tones  should  say, 
"  Come  home,  sweet  brother  ours,  come  home, 
Come  thou  from  earth  away?" 

Ah!  then  would  stricken  Rachel  weep, 

And  David,  too,  would  moan. 
And  hearts  as  light  as  air  would  turn 

As  heavy  as  that  stone 

Which  lay  before  the  Saviour's  tomb 

In  that  far  morning  gray. 
Which  helpless  women  gazed  upon, 

And  could  not  roll  away. 


190  SKETCHES  FOR  PARENTS. 

And  still  a  graver  fear  will  come 

To  vex  our  golden  hours, 
As  I  have  seen  the  shadows  steal 

'Mid  beds  of  gorgeous  flowers — 

A  fear  lest  in  the  years  to  come, 

Through  thoughts  and  deeds  misdone, 

The  breaking  heart  may  cry  aloud, 
"O  Absalom,  my  son!" 

And  still  another  fear  will  come — 

Most  solemn  of  all  fears, 
Like  organ-  tones  that  touch  the  heart 

And  fill  the  eyes  with  tears — 

A  fear  that  in  the  distant  years 

This  boy  of  ours  may  know 
The  steep  and  rugged  paths,  up  which 

All  sons  of  God  must  go. 

To  Mary,  mother  of  the  Christ, 

Said  one,  and  not  in  jest. 
In  days  to  come,  through  this  thy  child 

"A  sword  shall  pierce  thy  breast." 

And  yetwhat  worthy  heart  would  shun 

A  sword  thrust  such  as  this. 
Since  every  drop  of  blood  would  swell 

The  sum  of  human  bliss? 

Father  and  mother  of  us  all. 

Bless  thou  our  child  and  thine, 
To  ways  of  truth  and  righteousness 

May  all  his  steps  incline! 

Home  has  a  thousand  attractions.  Who  can  feel  indifferent, 
to  the  place  where  he  received  his  birth;  where  he  passed  his 
days  of  infancy,  and  indulged  in  the  diversions  of  youth;  where 
his  body  has  been  so  often  refreshed  with  sleep,  and  screened 
from  piercing  cold  and  descending  torrents;  and  where  he  has 
shared  so  many  social  joys  from  conversation  and  books,  around^ 
the  friendly  fire  or  in  the  adjoining  garden  .-• 


HE  -  FAMILY. 

G  0  0  D  -  B  I^  E  B  D  I  N  G . 


BY  W.  W.  BREESE. 


''^  OMEWHERE  we  have  seen  an  old  saw, 
which  runs,  "Better  be  unborn  than  un- 
^  bred!"  But  there  is  a  cold  C3micism  in  this 
^"A-^  which  is  chilling  to  our  better  natures,  and 
suggests  the  cold  formalism  of  the  dancing-school 
and  the  suavity  of  a  polished  trickster.  Too  often, 
alas!  the  most  polished  exterior  covers  the  basest  of 
hearts.  With  the  sagacious,  too  great  an  ease  of  man- 
ner, too  great  a  desire  to  please,  or,  in  other  words, 
too  close  attention  to  the  requirements  of  good-breed- 
ing, are  cause  for  suspicious  observation.  Some  ax 
to  grind  is  believed  to  be  concealed  under  the  suave 
exterior;  and  the  profusion  of  attentions  and  kind 
acts  attract  deleterious  attention,  little  desired  or  sus- 
pected by  the  person  performing  them. 

We  consider  that  to  be  well-bred  does  not  consist 
in  the  minute  and  careful  observance  of  the  rules  of 
society,  by  any  means.  It  has  a  deeper  meaning.  It 
means  that  moral  and  intellectual  training  which  takes 
hold  of  the  heart  and  mind  of  the  child,  and  so  shapes 

(191) 


192  THE  FAMILY. 

its  mode  of  thought,  and  act,  and  speech,  that  its 
good-breeding  will  always  be  apparent  in  the  most 
unthoughted  act.  In  other  words,  good-breeding  is 
a  habit,  and  not  an  acquirement.  It  is  part  of  a  man's 
nature,  and  not  an  external  adornment. 

In  order  that  the  child  may  be  well-bred,  the  par- 
ents must  be  well-bred;  for  they  are  the  ones  who 
make  or  mar  their  children's  good-breeding.  We  do 
not  now  talk  of  good  clothing,  nor  of  polished,  gram- 
matical speech,  nor  of  "good  manners,"  as  usually 
so  called.  We  talk  of  kindness  of  heart,  desire  to 
make  others  happy,  capacity  for  intellectual  enjoy- 
mient,  tact  and  good  management  in  the  avoidance  of 
quarrels,  ability  to  conceal  annoyance,  and  judgment 
in  managing  affairs  about  the  household  and  in  society. 
Many  well-bred  people,  who  excel  in  these  things,  are 
neither  wealthy,  educated,  nor  fluent  in  speech. 

A  well-bred  household  cannot  well  help  being  a 
religious  household,  for  religion  and  good-breeding 
go  hand  in  hand.  The  doctrines  of  Christ  carried 
into  execution  in  the  family  and  in  society  are  the 
fundamental  constituents  of  good-breeding.  Without 
Christ  we  may  have  a  Chinese  or  a  Japanese  good- 
breeding,  but  the  good  things  therein  are  identical  with 
Christ's  doctrine,  after  all,  and  are  so  coupled  with 
other  bad  things  that  they  lose  their  power  to  com- 
mand our  respect  and  admiration. 

A  gentleman,  evidently  of  keen  observation  and  ex- 
tensive travels,  whom  we  once  met  upon  a  railway 
train,  asked  us  what  we  considered  the  most  potent 
influence  in  hindering  the  spread  of  the  gospel.  When 
we  answered  that  vicious  literature  and  trashy  read- 
ing was  undoubtedly  the  greatest,  he  fully  concurred 


GOOD-BREEDING.  193 

in  our  opinion.  It  is  also  the  most  destructive  of 
good-breeding  in  the  family.  Not  alone  bad  books, 
but  even  more  disastrous  and  evil  is  the  mass  of 
"story  papers"  flooding  our  land.  As  you  value  your 
own  and  your  children's  welfare,  burn  up  and  banish 
from  your  household  the  ordinary  cheap  novels,  coarse 
story  papers,  and  even  many  of  the  county  and  polit- 
ical papers,  with  which  all  sections  of  the  land  are 
cursed. 

We  shall  venture  to  name  some  of  the  papers  that 
we  have  "tabooed"  from  our  own  household,  and 
others  that  we  can  heartily  recommend — standafd 
literature,  accessible  to  every  American  neighbor- 
hood. First,  cast  out  the  New  York  Ledger,  Satur- 
day Nighty  Waverly  Magazine,  Peterson's  Monthly,  Boys' 
and  Girls'  Own,  and  the  whole  list  of  "  Frank  Leslie's  " 
publications  for  the  young,  so  far  as  we  have  examined. 
Of  books,  Munro's  "  Dime  Novels,"  as  a  rule,  and 
every  other  novel  of  that  class.  There  are  surely 
standard  novels,  of  a 'pure  and  chaste  character,  with- 
out buying  these.  Harper's  "  Franklin'  Square  Li- 
brary" is  not  fully  an  exception.  Many  of  these 
should  not  be  read  by  children.  But  a  wise  selection, 
by  an  intelligent  person,  can  be  made  from  all  these 
cheap  publications. 

The  limits  of  this  article  forbid  more  than  a  few 
words  in  closing:  Always  take  one  or  more  of  your 
denominational  papers.  Every  good  religious  paper 
has  a  large  department  for  the  family.  Try  and  get 
the  very  bett  paper  of  your  denomination,  and  by  that 
we  meai;i  the  one  which  has  the  largest  circulation,  for 
thus  it  will  have,  money  to  command  talent  in  its  edi- 
torial management.  If  you  can  afford  more  than  one 
13 


194  THE  FAMIL  Y. 

denominational  paper,  then  take  a  less  influential  one 
in  addition. 

For  the  children,  take  The  YouWs  Companion,  pub- 
lished in  Boston,  or  The  Illustrated  Christian  Weekly, 
published  by  the  American  Tract  Society,  New  York. 
Either  of  these  papers  contains  more  reading-matter 
for  the  money  than_  any  of  the  Chimney  Corner  style, 
and  are  old,  and  standard,  and  undenominational. 
Then,  if  you  want  a  more  purely  news  or  literary 
periodical,  try  the  Nev)  York  Weekly  Witness,  and  The 
Evening  Lamp,  of  Chicago.  Harper'' s  Magazine,  The 
Chitury  (formerly  Scribnefs  Monthly),  and  a  great 
many  others  of  like  character,  are  commended.  Of 
children's  magazines,  the  best  known  are  Wide  Awake 
and  Bahyland,  published  in  Boston;  The  Nursery,  of 
Boston;  and  St.  Nicholas,  of  New  York.  Address  a 
letter  to  these  names,  at  the  proper  post-office,  if  you 
wish  to  subscribe. 

Of  books,  by  all  means  get  "  The  Story  of  the 
Bible,"  and  read  it  out  loud  to  your  children.  They 
never  fail  td  be  charmed  by  it.  "  Our  Children,"  by 
Dr.  Atticus  G.  Haygood,  is  published  by  the  South- 
ern Methodist  Publishing  House,  and  is  a  grand 
book  for  parents  every-where.  "The  Sketch  Book," 
by  AVashington  Irving,  is  a  wonderful  book  for  all 
ages.  Get  a  good  cyclopedia,  by  all  means;  the 
American  revision  of  Chambers's  Cyclopedia  is  our 
choioe  over  all  the  more  expensive  and  elaborate 
works.  John  B.  Alden,  of  New  York,  publishes  it. 
Get  "  California  Sketches,"  by  Dr.  O.  P.  Fitzgerald,  in 
two  volumes.  They  are  better  than  any  fictitious 
tales  of  Western  adventure.  "  Field§'  Scrap-book  "  is 
splendid.     "  Zig-zag  Journeys,"  in  several  volumes, 


READING  ALOUD.  195 

by  Ilczckiah  Buttcrworth,  arc  the  grandest  books  of 
the  kind  ever  published.  Ilans  Andersen's  "Wonder 
Stories  "  are  grand.  Get  catalogues  from  Lee  &  Shep- 
ard  and  D.  Lothrop  &  Co.,  of  Boston;  Harper  &  Bros., 
vScribners,  Methodist  Book  Concern,  Fowler  &  Wells, 
and  Appleton,  of  New  York;  Lippincott,  Porter  & 
Coates,  and  B.  Fagan  &  Sons,  of  Philadelphia,  for  fur- 
ther selections.  All  the.  newest  and  most  attractive 
books  are  also  advertised  in  the  YoutKs  Companion 
and  other  such  papers.  You  can  get  all  the  above- 
named  books  through  the  book-stores.  The  cata- 
logue found  in  the  back  of  this  book  has  been  care- 
fully selected,  and  will  be  found  reliable. 

If  you  will  not  only  get  these  books  and  papers,  but 
persistently  read  them  and  take  the  time  to  talk  about 
what  you  read,  you  will  find  a  great  help  in  the  so- 
lution of  how  to  become  well-bred.  Carry  out  the 
general  spirit  and  ideas  of  these  books  and  periodic- 
als; be  influenced  by  their  tone  of  good-breeding,  gen- 
tleness, manHness,  purity,  and  all  else  that  is  good,  and 
your  life  will  run  easily  and  naturally  in  the  channel 
of  a  well-bred  man  or  woman. 

FjBADING  flLtOUD. 

If  you  ask  eight  persons  out  of  ten  now,  they  will  tell  you 
that  they  hate  being  read  to.  And  why?  Because  from  their 
childhood  they  have  been  unused  to  it,  or  used  only  to  such  a 
monotonous  drone  as  robbed  even  the  Arabian  Nights  of  half 
their  charm.  The  husband,  at  the  end  of  a  hard  day's  work, 
returns  home  to  pass  the  evening,  absorbed  in  his  book  or  doz- 
ing over*he  fire,  while  the  wife  takes  up  her  novel  or  knits  in 
silence.  If  he  read  to  her,  or  if  he  could  tolerate  her  reading 
to  him,  there  would  be  community  of  thought,  interchange  of 
ideas,  and  such  discussion  as  the  fusion  of  two  minds  into  ^ny 
common  channel  cannot  fail  to  produce. 


196  THE  FAMILY. 

And  it  is  often  the  same  when  the  circle  is  wider.  I  have 
known  a  large  family  pass  the  hours  between  dinner  and  bed- 
time, each  one  with  his  book  or  work,  afraid  to  speak  above  his 
breath  because  "it  would  disturb  papa."  Is  this  cheerful  or 
wise,  or  conducive  to  that  close  union  in  a  household  which  is 
a  bond  of  strength  through  life,  which  the  world  can  neither 
give  nor  take  away?  I  cannot  blame  them,  for  they  all  read 
abominably;  and  it  is  enough  to  have  endured  the  affliction  of 
family  prayers,  gasped  and  mumbled  by  the  head  of  the  family, 
to  feel  that  listening  to  such  a  delivery  for  any  length  of  time 
would  exasperate  one  beyond  endurance. 

But  it  was  not  always  so.  In  the  last  century — even  as  late 
as  fifty  years  ago — reading  aloud  was  regarded  as  an  accom- 
plishment worth  the  cultivation  of  those  (especially  those  who 
lived  in  the  country)  with  pretensions  to  taste;  and  it  was,  con- 
sequently, far  more  frequently  found  enlivening  the  domestic 
circle.  There  were  fewer  books,  fewer  means  of  locomotion, 
fewer  pleasures  of  winter  nights  outside  the  four  walls  of  the 
country  parlor.  The  game  of  cribbage,  or  the  sonata  on  the 
spinet,  did  not  occupy  the  entire  evening  after  six  o'clock  din- 
ner; and  Shakespeare  and  Milton  were  more  familiar  to  the 
young  generation  of  those  days  than  they  are  now — mainly,  I 
feel  persuaded,  because  they  were  accustomed  to  hear  them 
read  aloud.  The  ear,  habituated  to  listen,  is  often  a  more  safe 
conduit  to  the  memory  in  youth  than  the  inattentive  eye  which 
rapidly  skims  a  page. 

Family  ^oi^ship. 

We  cannot  urge  too  strongly  upon  every  family,  whether 
there  be  children  in  it  or  not,  the  necessity  of  observing  daily 
family  worship.  The  few  moments'  time  that  it  needs  can 
easily  be  spared  in  any  family  on  the  fac-e  of  the  globe,  if  its 
members  would  once  unitedly  resolve  to  observe  this  practice. 
If  you  can  do  nothing  more,  you  can  at  least  read  a  half-dozen 
verses  from  the  Bible,  and  repeat  the  Lord's  Pra#2r.  The 
heathen  do  as  much  and  far  more,  and  they  work  more  hours 
in  the  day  than  we  do.  Roman  Catholic  families,  even  of  the 
lowest  social  grade,  punctiliously  observe  the  forms  of  family 
worship. 


LACK  OF  FAMILY  UNITY.  197 

LflPE   AT   I7OMB. 

For  all  of  us  our  life  at  home  must  constitute  a  great  part  of 
that  life  in  which,  by  patient  continuance  in  well-doing,  we  have 
to  seek  for  glory,  honor,  and  immortality;  for  many  of  us  it 
practically  constitutes  the  whole.  There  are  millions  of  women, 
millions  of  girls,  to  say  nothing  of  little  children,  who  have  no 
life  worth  speaking  of  beyond  the  boundaries  of  the  family. 
Whatever  fidelity  to  God,  whatever  love  for  Christ,  whatever 
justice,  whatever  kindness,  generosity,  and  gentleness  they  are 
to  illustrate  in  their  spirit  and  conduct,  must  be  illustrated  there. 
And  even  men  who  have  their  business  and  their  profession  to 
follow  during  the  greater  part  of  the  day  find  occasion  in  their 
home-life  for  forms  of  well-doing  and  ill-doing  that  are  not  pos- 
sible elsewhere.  I  like  a  broad  and  rich  life  for  myself — full  of 
varied  interests;  and  I  should  like  to  see  the  lives  of  most  men, 
and  of  most  women,  too,  animated  by  the  inspiration  and  re- 
freshed by  the  free  air  of  activities  and  interests  outside  their 
own  home.  But  no  shining  achievements  elsewhere  can  palli- 
ate the  guilt  of  coldness,  injustice,  ill-temper  in  the  family;  and 
the  noblest  public  virtues  have  their  roots  in  the  gentleness,  the 
industry,  the  self-sacrifice,  and  the  truthfulness  of  which  only 
those  who  are  nearest  to  us  have  knowledge. 

LiAGi^  OP  Family  Unity. 

The  unity  of  the  family  has  been  lost  in  modern  life.  The 
husband  has  a  world  of  his  own  separate  from  the  wife.  The 
children  have  a  world  of  their  own  separate  from  the  parents. 
The  home,  so  called,  is  but  a  common  boarding  and  lodging 
jilace.  The  various  members  of  the  household  meet  at  meals, 
and  nowhere  else.  They  have  scarcely  any  thing  in  common 
except  the  family  name,  and  in  a  limited  sense  the  family  purse. 
They  have  diflferent  sets  of  visitors  and  friends.  Their  lives 
flow  in  different  channels,  and  the  separations  which  time  and 
the  stern  necessities  of  mature  life  make  inevitable  are  antici- 
l^ated  by  this  folly  that  thus  throws  away  the  sweetest  earthly 
joys  that  God  places  within  the  reach  of  mortals.  The  inter- 
play of  reciprocal  influence  and  affection  is  interrupted,  and 
God's  gracious  educative  purpose  in  the  institution  of  the  fam- 
ily relation  is  thwarted.     But  our  solemn  conviction  is  that  the 


198  THE  FAMILY. 

chief  cause  is  to  be  found  in  the  feeble,  halting,  half-hearted 
type  of  religion  that  prevails  in  the  Churches.  It  is  a  religion 
without  a  heart.  It  is  a  religion  that  is  dead  and  dumb.  It  is  a 
religion  of  mere  decorum  and  forms.  It  is  a  religion  without 
experience,  and  therefore  giving  no  testimony  and  bearing  no 
fruit.  It  kindles  no  light  and  wakes  no  song  of  joy  in  the  home. 
The  one  subject  that  is  ignored  as  not  being  of  general  inter- 
est is  religion.  A  sermon  from  a  new  preacher  may  be  com- 
mented upon,  or  some  special  event  of  the  spectacular  or  pop- 
ular kind  may  elicit  passing  remark.  But  conversation  relating 
to  Christian  experience,  bearing  upon  the  practical  phases  of 
the  Christian  life,  and  bringing  out  the  inward  thought  and  pur- 
pose of  each  soul  with  reference  to  this  most  vital,  solemn,  and 
tender  of  all  questions  that  could  engage  the  thoughts  and  evoke 
the  speech  of  persons  who  love  one  another,  is  unknown.  There 
is  coldness  and  constraint,  if  not  repulsion,  in  the  circle  that 
ought  to  be  the  type  of  the  sweetness,  the  concord,  and  blessed- 
ness of  heaven.  There  is  a  painful  sense  of  misadjustment  all 
ai'ound,  and  a  shadow  that  rests  upon  all.  This  evil,  once  exist- 
ing, has  a  self-perpetuating  tendency,  and  nothing  but  a  mighty 
sorrow  will  melt  and  remold  these  discordant  elements  into 
family  unity.  By  the  side  of  a  deatl;i-bed  or  an  open  grave  it 
has  happened  that  the  separated  lines  of  family  life  have  con- 
verged in  one  supreme  moment  when  the  eternal  realities,  like 
a  lightning-flash,  struck  each  throbbing  heart  with  resistless 
power. 

We  would  not  exaggerate.  The  evil  we  deplore  is  no  new 
thing.  From  the  days  of  David  and  Absalom  there  have  been 
division,  and  grief,  and  heart-break  in  families.  The  last  hours 
of  unnumbered  fathers  and  mothers  have  been  embittered  by 
the  reflection  that  their  children  had  no  sympathy  with  their 
highest  joys  and  no  share  in  their  sweetest  hopes.  But  it  does 
seem  to  us  that  this  evil  is  increasing.  The  centrifugal  tend- 
ency is  fostered  by  the  conditions  of  modern  life.  The  family 
is  disintegrating,  crumbling.  The  activity  of  the  divorce  court 
is  a  symptom  of  this  disease  that,  like  a  cancer,  is  gnawing  at 
the  vitals  of  society.  It  is  the  plain  and  undoubted  duty  of  all 
good  men  to  try  to  stem  this  dark  tide  of  misery,  and  again 
establish  the  unity  and  tender  sympathy  which  God  memit 
should  exist  in  every  family. 


FRETTING.  199  * 

fflOTHBI^S,  SaI^B   F)BBD. 

Don't  let  your  daughters  grow  up  with  the  idea  that  "pa"  is 
a  money-making  machine,  a  very  necessary  article  in  the  family, 
and  one  that  it  is  quite  advisable  not  to  put  out  of  running  order 
by  too  frequent  and  heavy  demands  on  his  coin-yielding  capac- 
ity. There  is  no  more  beautiful  relation  than  that  of  father  and 
daughter  where  she  is  taught  to  look  up  to  him  as  her  protector 
and  guide,  and  she  the  comfort  and  ornament  of  his  manhood. 
The  care-worn,  joyless  faces  of  many  fathers  of  the  day  tell  a 
tale  of  struggles  borne  alone,  of  sympathy  withheld,  of  all  light 
gone  out  of  life,  of  an  almost  heartless  struggle  to  perform  the 
part  undertaken  so  cheerfully  and  bravely  in  early  life.  There 
is  so  much  sweetness  to  be  had  from  the  home  relations,  if  we 
but  aj^preciate  them. 

Fl^BTTING. 

There  is  one  sin  which  it  seems  to  me  is  every-where  and  by. 
everybody  imderestimated,  and  quite  too  much  overlooked  in 
valuations  of  character.  It  is  the  sin  of  fretting.  It  is  as  com- 
mon as  air,  as  speech — so  common  that  unless  it  rises  above  its 
usual  monotone  we  do  not  even  observe  it.  Watch  any  ordi- 
naiy  coming  together  of  people,  and  see  how  many  minutes  it 
will  be  before  somebody  frets — that  is,  makes  a  more  or  less 
complaining  statement  of  something  or  other  which  most  prob- 
ably every  one  in  the  I'oom,  or  the  stage,  or  the  car,  or  the  street- 
corner,  as  it  may  be,  knew  before,  and  which,  most  probably, 
nobody  can  help.  Why  say  any  thing  about  it?  It  is  cold,  it  is 
hot,  it  is  wet,  it  is  dry;  somebody  has  broken  an  appointment, 
ill-cooked  a  meal;  stupidity  or  bad  faith  somewhere  has  resulted 
in  discomfort.  There  are  always  plenty  of  things  to  fret  about. 
It  is  simply  astonishing  how  much  annoyance  and  discomfort 
may  be  found  in  the  course  of  every  day's  living,  even  at  the 
simplest,  if  one  only  keeps  a  sharp  eye  out  on  that  side  of 
things.  Even  holy  writ  says  we  are  born  to  trouble,  as  the 
sparks  fly  upward.  But  even  to  the  sparks  flying  upward,  in 
the  blackest  of  smoke,  there  is  a  blue  sky  above,  and  the  less 
time  they  waste  on  the  road  the  sooner  they  will  reach  it.  Fret- 
ting is  all  time  wasted  on  the  road.  It  adds  to  your  own  misery 
as  well  as  that  of  others.  It  comforts  no  one.  It  leaves  a  sense 
of  shame  behind  it.     Do  not  allow  yourself  to  fret. 


200  THE  FAMILY. 

DOMBSiniG    ffllSEI^Y. 

No  unhappiness  in  life  is  equal  to  unhappiness  at  home.  All 
other  personal  miseries  can  be  better  borne  than  the  terrible 
misfortune  of  domestic  disunion,  and  none  so  completely  demor- 
alizes the  nature.  The  anguish  of  disease  itself  is  modified, 
ameliorated,  even  rendered  blessed,  by  the  tender  touch,  the 
dear  presence  of  the  sympathetic  beloved,  and  loss  of  fortune 
is  not  loss  of  happiness  where  family  love  is  left.  But  the  want 
of  that  love  is  not  supplied  by  any  thing.  Health,  fortune,  suc- 
cess, nothing  has  its  full  savor  when  the  home  is  unhappy;  and 
the  greatest  triumphs  out-of-doors  are  of  no  avail  to  cheer  the 
sinking  heart  when  the  misery  within  has  to  be  encountered. 

Family  ^hbbi^pulcNess. 

In  the  power  of  the  Holy  Ghost  we  have  to  win  young  souls 
to  Christ  by  showing  that  holiness  is  happiness,  and  by  alluring 
them  away  from  every  thing  that  can  impair  the  delicacy  of 
holiness.  We  have,  by  daily  life,  to  contradict  the  devil's  lie 
that  religion  is  a  thing  of  tears  and  fears  and  frowns.  We  have 
to  show,  by  radiant  illustration,  that  ours  is  not  a  gloomy  heaven, 
nor  a  gloomy  Christ,  nor  a  gloomy  grace  of  God;  we  have  to 
show  that  to  none  is  life  more  sweet,  beautiful,  and  winsome 
than  to  those  who  have  lost  all  fear  to  die;  we  have  to  convince 
them,  not  so  much  by  what  we  were  as  by  what  we  are,  that 
those  who  are  on  the  right  side  and  in  the  true  Saviour  alone 
know  the  meaning  of  the  strain,  "  When  the  Lord  turned  our 
captivity,  we  were  like  unto  them  that  dream.  Then  was  our 
mouth  filled  with  laughter,  and  our  tongue  with  singing;  then 
said^  they  among  the  heathen,  The  Lord  hath  done  great  things 
for  them.  The  Lord  hath  done  great  things  for  us,  whereof 
we  are  glad."  "  God, "said  an  ancient  rabbi,  "  invented  laughter 
and  gave  it  to  his  children."  Y^s,  and  while,  by  the  seal  of  his 
Spirit  and  the  solemnity  of  his  presence,  he  keeps  us  from  ex- 
tremes, the  Lord  of  gladness  smdes  upon  our  smiles. 

I  meant  to  have  written  of  the  need  of  prayer;  but  this  is  so 
obvious,  the  thought  of  it  so  penetrates  the  whole  of  the  article, 
that  I  must  leave  you  to  make  your  own  remarks  *on  it  from 
your  own  full  hearts,  and  will  now  close  by  saying: 

What  you  do,  do  quickly.     To  me  the  memories  and  associa- 


CONTENTMENT.  201 

tions  of  the  past  arc  all  of  a  nature  to  deepen  the  solemnity  of 
our  subject,  and  to  hurry  the  sense  of  urgency  that  belongs  to 
it.  The  thought  makes  me  say  that,  if  you  would  bc  blessings 
to  those  who  are  now  children,  you  must  "take  time  by  the 
forelock."  I  am  not  commissioned  to  address  any  one  who  has 
put  ofl"  parental  work  until  the  child  is  nearly  old  enough  to  be 
under  a  roof  of  his  own,  but  only  to  make  an  appeal  to  those 
whose  children  are  now  little.  To  such  I  say.  Your  time  is 
now,  and  it  may  be,  now  or  never. 

We  read  in  Gothic  story  that  once,  when  a  king  was  setting 
out 'for  the  wars,  an  old  knight  met  him  at  the  castle  gate, 
mourning  that  his  own  limbs  were  now  too  oldi  for  the  brunt  of 
battle,  but  comforted  because  he  had  the  honor  of  presenting 
for  the  service  of  the  State,  instead  of  himself,  his  eight  brave 
sons.  In  the  name  of  Christ,  and  in  the  strength  of  God,  be 
faithful  to  your  charge;  then,  in  answer  to  your  prayer,  and  in 
benediction  of  your  deeds,  "  Instead  of  thy  fathers,"  and  inr 
stead  of  thyself,  "  shall  be  thy  children,  whom  thou  mayest 
make  princes  in  all  the  earth." 

• 

^ONirBNTMBNin. 

Nothing  makes  a  home  so  happy  as  the  perpetual  sunshine 
of  a  contented  disposition  there.  None  of  the  little  troubles  of 
-life  arrest  progress  or  pleasure  in  that  home;  there  is  always  a 
rainbow  to  bridge  the  rift.  The  sky  is  always  blue,  and  the 
wind  blows  from  the  south-west,  where  that  disposition  works 
its  will;  all  things  move  in  accordant  music  and  measure  where 
the  happy  nature's  voice  gives  the  dominant  key.  A  person 
with  the  temperament  which  creates  this  fortunate  disposition, 
or  gives  it  full  play,  is  not  only  a  blessing  to  himself  or  herself, 
but  to  all  society  as  well;  every  thing  is  more  gentle  and  direct 
in  movement,  all  wheels  and  ways  run  more  smoothly  for  the 
treatment  of  such  individuals,  and  their  own  habit  of  always 
looking  on  the  sunny  side  obliges  people  in  their  immediate 
neighborhood  also  to  see  the  silver  lining  of  the  cloud  in  spite 
of  themselves. 

What  such  happy  people  are  to  those  about  them  it  requires 
personal  experience  of  them  to  know  in  the  full  extent,  for 
woi'ds  would  completely  fail  to  tell;  they  are  the  consolers  of 


202  ,  THE  FAMILY. 

trouble,  the  spurs  to  endeavor,  the  sympathizers  in  joy,  the  be- 
guilers  of  tedium.  With  their  own  buoyancy  they  bear  every 
one's  burflens,  with  their  sunshine  they  banish  every  one's 
shadow,  their  own  irfner  and  almost  inexhaustible  happiness 
overflows  on  all  within  i-each,  and  they  know  how  to  turn  pan- 
demonium into  i:)aradise. 

Be  of  Good  (©hbei^. 

A  man  who  acquires  a  habit  of  giving  way  to  depression  is 
one  on  the  road  to  ruin.  When  trouble  comes  upon  him,  in- 
stead of  rousing  his  energies  to  combat  it,  he  weakens,  his  fac- 
ulties grow  dull,  his  judgment  becomes  obscured,  and  he  sinks 
into  the  slough  of  despair;  and  if  anybody  pulls  him  out  by 
main  force  and  places  him  safe  on  solid  ground,  he  stands  there 
dejected  and  discouraged,  and  is  pretty  sure  to  waste  the  means 
of  help  which  have  been  given  him.  How  different  it  is  with 
the  man  who  takes  a  cheery  view  of  life  even  at  its  w^orst,  and 
faces  every  ill  with  unyielding  pluck !  He  may  be  swept  away 
by  an  overwhelming  tide  of  misfortune,  but  he  bravely  strug- 
gles for*the  shore,  and  is  ever  ready  to  make  the  most  of  the 
help  that  may  be  given  him.  A  cheerful,  hopeful,  courageous 
disposition  is  invaluable,  and  should  be  assiduously  cultivated. 

Lxooi^  poi^  THE  Good. 

There  is  a  great  deal  of  good  in  the  world.  But  there  would 
be  even  more  if  that  which  there  is  were  recognized,  appreciated, 
and  used  more.  And  this  is  especially  true  of  individuals.  It 
is  very  seldom  that  a  man's  true  character  will  be  bettered  by 
our  continually  picking  out  its  flaws  and  faults,  and  throwing 
them  at  him.  Usually  it  only  serves  to  harden  him  and  confirm 
him  in  his  evil.  But  look  for  the  good  in  him,  no  matter  how 
little  it  may  be,  and  how  hard  to  find.  Show  him  that  it  is  rec- 
ognized, and  that  it  in  so  far  gains  him  respect;  and  it  will  soon 
reach  out,  spread,  and  perhaps  eventually  encompass  the  whole 
character.  It  is  in  this  sense,  too,  that  we  are  to  "overcome 
evil  with  good;"  by  discovering  the  grain  of  good  that  is  in  a 
man,  cultivating,  airing,  developing  it,  until  it  gradually  crowds 
out  the  evil  by  the  vigor  of  its  own  growth.  Planting  and 
watering  is  always  more  profitable  than  mere  weeding. 


THE  WIFE'S  IlEPJiOOF.  203 

It  ^ays. 

It  pays  to  wear  a  smiling  face, 

And  laugh  our  troubles  down; 
For  all  our  little  troubles  wait 

Our  laughter  or  our  frown. 
Beneath  the  magic  of  a  smile 

Our  doubts  will  fade  away, 
As  melts  the  frost  in  early  spring 

Beneath  the  sunny  ray. 

It  pays  to  make  a  worthy  cause, 

By  helping*it,  our  own; 
To  give  the  current  of  our  lives 

A  true  and  noble  tone. 
It  pays  to  comfort  heavy  hearts. 

Oppressed  with  dull  despair. 
And  leave  in  sorrow-darkened  lives 

Our  gleams  of  brightness  there. 

It  pays  to  give  a  helping  hand 

To  eager,  earnest  youth; 
To  note,  with  all  their  waywa'rdness, 

Their  courage  and  their  truth; 
To  strive,  with  sympathy  and  love, 

Their  confidence  to  win; 
It  pays  to  open  wide  the  heart 

And  "let  the  sunshine  in." 

©HE   ?>5lPE'S   rjEPr^OOP. 

A  gi'eat  many  people  seem  to  delight  in  finding  fault,  espe- 
cially in  their  own  homes.  It  is  next  to  impossible  to  suit  them. 
Their  food  is  always  too  salt  or  too  fresh,  too  rich  or  too  plain, 
burned  or  underdone.  The  house  is  invariably  too  hot  or  too 
cold ;  their  clothes  either  fit  too  tightly  or  too  loosely.  They  either 
have  corns  on  their  feet,  or  else  have  shoes  "  a  mile  too  large." 
The  atmosphere  is  stifling,  or  rather  too  breezy,  and  there  is 
nothing  on  earth  worth  living  for.  Such  people  musfbe  most 
miserable,  for  they  never  know  what  will  suit  them,  nor  is  any 
one  able  to  anticipate  their  needs;  they  are  slaves  to  a  deplora- 
ble habit,  from  which  they  find  it  almost  impossible  to  ever 


204  THE  FAMIL  Y. 

break  away.  Occasionally  some  one  succeeds  in  breaking  up 
their  selfish,  disagreeable  habit,  which  threatens  to  destroy  all 
domestic  peace.  Such  an  occasion  is  long  remembered  in  the 
family,  though  the  fact  is  seldom  chronicled  for  the  benefit  of 
others.  Here,  however,  is  a  story  concerning  fault-finding  that 
was  written  in  the  olden  time: 

One  day,  as  Zachariah  Hodgson  was  going  to  his  daily  avo- 
cations after  breakfast,  he  purchased  a  fine,  large  cod-fish,  and 
sent  it  home  to  his  wife  with  directions  to  have  it  cooked  for 
dinner.  As  no  particular  mode  of  cooking  was  indicated,  the 
good  woman  well  knew  that  whether  she  boiled  it  or  made  it 
into  a  chowder  her  husband  woirid  scold  her  when  he  came 
home.  But  she  resolved  to  please  him  once,  if  possible,  and 
therefore  cooked  portions  of  it  several  different  ways.  She 
also,  with  some  difficulty,  procured  an  amphibious  animal  from 
a  brook  back  of  the  house,  and  plumped  it  into  the  pot.  In  due 
time  her  husband  came  home.  Some  covered  dishes  wei'e 
placed  upon  the  table,  and,  with  a  frowning,  fault-finding  look, 
the  moody  man  commenced  conversation: 

"Well,  wife,  did  you  get  the  fish  I  bought?" 

"Yes,  my  dear." 

"  I  should  like  to  know  how  you  have  cooked  it.  I  bet  you 
any  thing  you  have  spoiled  it  for  my  eating.  (Taking  off'  the 
cover.)  I  thought  so.  What  in  creation  possessed  you  to  fry 
it.-*     I  would  as  lief  eat  a  boiled  frog." 

"  Why,  my  deai",  I  thought  you  loved  it  best  fried." 

"You  didn't  think  any  such  thing.  You  knew  better.  I 
never  loved  fried  fish.     Why  didn't  you  boil  it?" 

"  My  dear,  the  last  time  we  had  fresh  fish  you  know  I  boiled 
it,  and  you  said  you  liked  it  best  fried.  But  I  have  boiled  some 
also." 

So  saying,  she  lifted  the  cover,  and  lo!  the  shouldei's  of  the 
cod,  nicely  boiled,  were  neatly  deposited  in  a  dish,  a  sight  of 
which  would  make  an  epicure  rejoice,  but  which  only  added 
to  ^he  ill-nature  of  her  husband. 

*A  pretty  dish,  this!"  exclaimed  he.  "Boiled  fish!  Chips 
and  porridge!  If  you  had  not  been  one  of  the  most  stupid  of 
womankind  you  would  have  made  it  into  a  chowder." 

His  patient  wife,  with  a  smile,  immediately  placed  a  tureen 
before  him  containing  an  excellent  chowder. 


CHEAP  PLEASURES.  205 

"  My  dear,"  she  said,  "  I  was  resolved  to  please  yon.  There 
is  your  fovorite  dish." 

"Favorite  dish,  indeed!  I  dare  say  it  is  an  unpalatable, 
wishy-washy  mess.  I  would  rather  have  a  boiled  frog  than 
the  whole  of  it." 

This  was  a  common  expression  of  his,  and  had  been  antici- 
pated by  his  wife,  who,  as  soon  as  the  preference  was  expressed, 
uncovered  a  large  dish  near  her  husband,  and  there  was  a  bull- 
frog of  jiortentous  dimensions  and  pugnacious  aspect  stretched 
out  at  full  length! 

Zachariah  sprang  from  his  chair,  not  a  little  astonished  at  the 
unexpected  apparition. 

"My  dear,"  said  his  wife  in  a  kind,  entreating  tone,  ""I  hope 
you  will  be  able  to  make  a  dinner." 

Zachariah  could  not  stand  this.  He  declared  that  she  should 
never  again  have  occasion  to  read  him*  another  such  lesson — 
and  he  was  as  good  as  his  word. 

^HEAP   ^LBASUI^ES. 

Entertainments  in  this  country  are  expensive.  To  give 
pleasure  to  invited  guests,  few  or  many,  the. hostess  burdens 
herself  with  cares,  and  provides  costly  dishes.  If  entertain- 
ments could  be  made  simple  and  inexpensive,  tl^re  would  be  a 
great  gain  in  social  enjoyment. 

Svdney  Smith  enjoyed  an  evening  company.  He  had  fre- 
quently at  his  house  twenty  or  thirty  guests,  and  provided  them 
with  a  supper.  People  were  eager  to  go.  In  the  suppers  there 
was  no  attempt  at  display,  and  nothing  to  tempt  the  palate. 
The  table  was  simply  spread,  but  everybody  was  satisfied. 
The  charm  was  in  the  company,  in  cordial  hospitality,  bright 
sayings,  and  perfect  freedom. 

Alice  and  Phccbe  Gary's  receptions  in  New  York,  and  Alice 
Neal's  in  Philadelphia,  were  of  a  similar  character.  There  was 
no  burden,  either  to  mind  or  purse,  in  furnishing  entertainment, 
and  the  guests  were  in  no  danger  of  nightmare  or  dyspepsia 
from  eating  indigestible  dainties.  It  would  be  a  great  improve- 
ment in  American  social  life  if  such  good  examples  were  oftener 
imitated. 

We  doubt  the  propriety  of  making  gatherings  for  intellectual 


206  THE  FAMILY. 

purposes  places  of  feasting.  The  literary  cUib  that  makes  a 
supper  a  part  of  its  programme  is  likely  to  dwarf  its  own  pur- 
poses and  defeat  its  own  ends.  Singleness  of  purpose  is 
strength.  This  will  also  apply  in  part  to  gatherings  for  moral 
and  religious  purposes.  A  feast  lowers  tlje  moral  aim.  While 
it  is  right  in  itself,  it  is  often  incongruous  and  diverts  the  mind 
from  the  direct  purpose  of  the  cause.  « 

Speai^  Gently. 

The  rough  hand  may  crush  and  kill  the  flower  it  would 
cherish,  so  the  harsh  word  may  break  the  peace  and  injure  the 
feelings  of  the  heart  which  is,  perhaps,  to  the  speaker  most 
dear.  How  much  better  it  is  to  cultivate  the  meekness  of  a 
quiet  spirit  than  to  get  the  reputation  of  being  what  the  world 
calls  a  high-spirited  individual!  The  fashion  is  to  despise  hu- 
manity as  it  is  to  call  all  earnest  piety  Pharisaism;  but  the  gen- 
tle, loving  words  w^hich  cannot  die  will  gain  the  smile  of  God, 
and  that  is  better  than  the  admiration  of  a  universe.  Would 
that  we  might  emulate  the  sweet  example  of  those  lips  which 
never  broke  the  bruised  reed  of  a  troubled  heart! 

r^APPY   I5E0PLE. 

A  poetical  writer  has  said  that  some  men  move  through  life 
as  a  band  of  music  moves  down  the  street — flinging  out  pleas- 
ure on  every  side  through  the  air  to  every  one,  far  and  near, 
that  can  listen.  Some  men  fill  the  air  with  their  strength  and 
sweetness  as  the  orchards  in  October  days  fill  the  air  with  ripe 
fruit.  Some  women  cling  to  their  own  houses  like  the  honey- 
suckle over  the  door,  yet,  like  it,  fill  all  the  region  with  the 
subtle  fragrance  of  their  goodness.  How^  great  a  bounty  and 
blessing  is  it  so  to  hold  the  royal  gifts  of  the  soul  that  they  shall 
be  music  to  all!  It  would  be  no  unworthy  thing  to  live  for,  to 
make  the  power  which  we  have  within  us  the  breath  of  other 
men's  joys;  to  fill  the  atmosphere  which  they  must  stand  in  witli 
a  brightness  which  they  cannot  create  for  themselves. 

Impress  upon  the  children  from  early  infancy  that  actions 
have  results,  and  that  they  cannot  escape  consequences  even  by 
being  sorry  when  they  have  acted  wrongly. 


THE  TRUE  LIFE.  207 

She  ©i^as  Liipb. 


BV    MARIANNE  FARNINOHAM. 


Wc  live  various  lives,  and  we  live  them  very  differently. 
There  is  the  life  of  pleasure,  in  which  every  day  is  filled  with 
gaycty,  and  mirth,  and  excitement;  when  the  eyes  are  always 
bright,  and  the  cheeks  flushed,  and  the  heart  wildly  throbbing. 
There  is  also  holiday-life,  in  Nvhich  there  is  nothing  to  do  but  to 
enjoy  oursclves-^to  walk  when  we  will,  to  rise  only  when  we 
are  inclined,  to  rest,  and  dream,  and  be  glad.  But  these  ways 
of  living,  though  very  fair  and  beautiful  indeed,  for  variety's 
sake,  would,  if  continuous,  be  exceedingly  harmful.  A  life 
given  up  to  pleasure  must  necessarily  be  short,  <for  excitement, 
if  constant,  wastes  away  the  strength  and  health  with  terrible 
rapidity.  And  holiday-life  is  so  glad  and  invigorating  simply 
because  it  can  only  be  enjoyed  sparingly  and  at  intervals.  In- 
deed, we  are  inclined  to  believe  that  the  only  right  and  true  life 
is  that  which  is  spent  chiefly  at  home,  in  loving  performance  of 
household  duties,  and  in  the  pleasant  occupation  of  turning  four 
walls  into  a  veritable  "  garden  of  Eden." 

Home-lifo  is  the  only  kind  of  life  of  which  we  do  not  tire. 
It  is  like  bread.  We  may  have  all  sorts  of  luxuries  set  before 
us,  but  we  cannot  be  satisfied  without  that;  and  though  we  so 
like  change  that  we  can  almost  understand  the  murmurings  of 
the  children  of  Israel  before  the  quails  came,  and  we  know  that 
the  best  dish  concocted  by  the  culinary  artist  will  soon  pall  upon 
us  if  many  times  repeated,  yet  we  still  say,  "  Give  us  day  by  day 
our  daily  bread,"  and  never  get  tired  of  it.  So  it  is  with  our 
home-life:  we  do  tire  of  pleasure-making  and  holiday-keeping; 
we  do  sometimes  turn  away  from  glitter,  and  show,  and  excite- 
ment; but  we  still  say, 

"  Home,  home,  sweet,  sweet  home, 
Be  it  ever  so  humble,  there's  no  place  like  home." 

Perhaps  we  understand  and  appreciate  the  pleasures  of  home 
better  when  we  can  enjoy  them  no  longer.  What  lingering 
looks  and  loving  thoughts  do  we  turn  back  to  the  home  of  our 
childhood!  How,  when  the  snow  has  fallen  upon  our  heads, 
and  life's  winter  is  passing  over  us,  do  we  turn  to  the  sunny 


208  THE  FAMILY. 

spot  which  is  still  embalmed  in  our  hearts  and  memories  as  the 
fairest  on  the  earth!  A  boy  goes  away  from  his  native  place; 
he  grows  up  to  be  a  man,  mixes  with  the  great,  eager  world, 
and  becomes  part  of  it;  he  fights,  and  struggles,  and  presses 
on,  and  in  the  battle  for  position  and  wealth  is  perhaps  success- 
ful. But  what  are  his  first  thoughts  then?  Feeling  body  and 
spirit  alike  weary,  being  worn  out  by  the  efforts  he  has  had  to 
make,  it  becomes  necessary  for  him  to  have  rest  and  change. 
Then  the  hitherto  unspoken  thought  finds  utterance:  "I  will 
go  to  the  old  place  where  I  was  born;  I  shall  get  well  and 
strong." 

And  with  what  overwhelming  emotions  does  he  gaze  on  the 
old  familiar  places!  There  is  no  meadow  like  that  at  the  back 
of  his  father's  house,  no  broad  river  with  shining  sails  upon  it, 
and  flower-clad  banks  at  its  side,  that  can  at  all  equal  the  little 
silver  stream  which  ran  by  the  cottage  door,  and  sang  him  to 
sleep  in  his  mother's  arms!  The  man  cannot  keep  back  the 
tears  as  he  gazes,  for  O  the  years  that  give  us  a  little  take  away 
so  much!  Men  speak  well  of  him,  he  has  climbed  the  hill,  and 
has  been  warmed  in  the  rays  of  prosperity.  The  years  have 
given  him  a  name,  and  position,  and  the  increase  of  riches,  but 
they  have  stiffened  the  arms  that  clasped  him,  and  stilled  the 
voices  that  called  him  by  the  old  pet  names;  and  as  for  the  cot- 
tage where  his  father  and  mother  lived,  it  is  either  altogether  ■ 
pulled  down  and  lost,  or  its  floors  are  trodden  by  the  feet  of 
strangers,  and  the  faces  that  used  to  brighten  at  his  approach 
lie  white  and  still  beneath  the  daisies.  But,  even  with  that 
great  loss  in  his  heart,  the  man  loves  with  a  tenderness  beyond 
his  power  of  expression  the  dear  little  spot  which  even  now  he 
calls  home. 

Seeing  that  home  iS  so  attractive,  that  it  so  clings  to  the  heart 
even  in  after-years,  what  kind  of  a  place  should  it  be?  And 
how  can  we  all  live  good  lives  therein?  Even  were  there  no 
other  reason  than  this  which  we  have  given,  there  is  need  that 
all  who  have  any  thing  to  do  with  home,  with  its  duties,  and 
pleasures,  and  enjoyments,  should  use  their  utmost  endeavors  to 
promote  its  prosperity  and  secure  its  happiness.  It  is,  indeed, 
a  sad  thing  when  persons  allow  themselves  to  feel  carelessly 
about  home  and  those  who  dwell  in  it  "Any  thing  will  do  for 
this  evening;   nobody  will   call,  and  I  shall  not  leave  home." 


GOOD  MANNERS.  209 

We  would  rather  say  entertain  strangers  cheerfully  if  they  call, 
but  keep  your  best,  your  very  best,  for  home.  The  true  life,  the 
life  that  may  be  made  the  fullest  and  most  satisfactory,  where 
there  is  most  room  for  the  exhibition  of  virtue,  and  where  vice 
dare  not  lift  its  head,  is  that  which  is  lived  in  a  well-conducted 
Christian  home.  We  earnestly  hope  that  before  long  we  may 
all  have  learned  to  value  our  homes  more,  and  to  be  skillful  in 
beautifying  them,  so  that  they  may  not  only  be  to  us  as  places 
in  which  to  dwell,  but  as  foretastes  of  the  heavenly  home. 

Good  CQannei^s. 

Good  manners  are  very  cheap;  they  do  not  cost  money,  and 
they  will  come  if  you  call  for  them  at  any  time  and  in  any  place; 
they  only  require  a  little  care. 

Salute  your  acquaintances  when  you  meet  them.  A  cheerful 
"Good-morning"  or  "Good-evening"  gives  pleasure.  Avoid 
rudeness  to  passei"s-by  in  the  street;  do  not  stare  at  them;  do 
not  run  against  them.  Always  make  way  for  the  aged  and  the 
infirm  people,  and  never  stand  on  the  foot-path  talking  to 
others,  so  as  to  stop  up  the  road.  In  the  eagerness  of  your 
play  at  ball,  hoop,  or  marbles,  be  careful  not  to  annoy  others. 
Never  deface  walls  or  doorsteps  by  writing  on  them,  and  the 
benches  in  the  parks  or  in  other  public  places  by  writing  or 
cutting  your  names  on  them.  If  in  a  steamer,  a  railway-car- 
riage, or  any  public  conveyance,  be  always  observant  of  your 
fellow -travelers,  and  not  in  any  way  annoy  them.  Do  not  self- 
ishly look  out  for  the  best  seat,  nor  refuse  to  accommodate  an- 
other; at  the  same  time,  if  you  find  any  person  who  offers  you 
civility,  be  careful  to  acknowledge  it.  Be  courteous  at  all  times 
and  to  everybody. 

"Politeness,"  says  a  celebrated  writer,  "is  a  coin  that  enriches 
not  him  who  receives  it,  but  him  who  gives  it."  What  is  it  that 
gives  value  to  these  small  civilities?  It  is  that  they  express 
kind-heartedness.  These  courtesies  should  come  from  the 
heart;  for  remember  that  the  worth  of  good  manners  consists 
in  their  being  the  sincere  expression  of  our  feelings.  Like  the 
dial  of  the  watch,  they  should  show  that  the  works  within  are 
good  and  true.  Be  what  you  profess,  possess  what  you  seek  to 
have  others  think  you  own,  and  you  will  have  no  trouble  in  im- 
pressing the  fact  of  your  good  manners  on  every  one. 
14 


210  THE  FAMILY. 

f[   liiTiPLB  Oil 


BY  S.  E.  S.  S. 


"  Crea-e-ak,"  went  the  front-gate. 

"There,  I  shall  go  right  now  and  get  some  oil  to  put  on  these 
hinges,"  said  Uncle  Rob. 

"O,  no  hurry,"  said  Aunt  Louise.  "You  are  tired,  Rob;  sit 
down  awhile." 

"Louise,"  said  Uncle  Rob,  gravely,  "I  have  just  come  from 
a  house  where  all  the  members  of  the  family  seem  to  have  got 
rusty.  At  least,  whenever  they  come  together  there  is  friction, 
and  harsh,  grating  sounds.  That  gate  reminds  me  of  the  very 
unpleasant  tones  of  voice  I  heard  there,  and  I  want  to  put  a 
stop  to  it  immediately." 

"Dear  me,"  said  Aunt  Louise,  "I  don't  wonder.  I  hadn't 
thought  of  the  resemblance." 

"Ah,"  said  Uncle  Rob,  with  satisfaction,  when  he  had  dropped 
a  little  oil  on  each  hinge  and  on  the  latch,  "just  see  how  easily 
it  swings  and  shuts  now.  It  will  last  longer  for  the  oiling,  too. 
I  tell  you,  Louise,  if  those  folks  would  just  touch  their  tempers 
and  tongues  with  a  little  of  the  oil  of — Love,  say,  or  of  Patience, 
how  much  easier  the  daily  work  and  worry  could  be  got  along 
with  in  that  house!  There  wouldn't  be  so  many  deep  wrinkles 
and  so  many  of  anger's  ugly  finger-prints  on  faces  that  should 
wear  for  each  other  only  smiles  and  looks  of  kindness.  They'd 
live  longer,  it's  my  opinion,  and  to  far  better  purpose." 

fli^T  OP  Being  5^Gi=^BEABiiB. 

The  true  art  of  being  agreeable  is  to  appear  well  pleased  with 
all  the  company,  and  rather  to  seem  well  entertained  with  them 
than  to  give  entertainment  to  them.  A  man  thus  disposed  per- 
haps may  not  have  much  learning  or  any  wit,  but  if  he  has 
common  sense,  and  something  friendly  in  his  behavior,  it  con- 
ciliates men's  minds  more  than  the  brightest  talents  without  this 
disposition;  and  when  a  man  of  such  a  turn  comes  to  old  age, 
he  is  almost  sure  to  be  treated  with  respect.  It  is  true,  indeed, 
that  we  should  not  dissemble  and  flatter  in  company,  but  a  man 
may  be  very  agreeable,  strictly  consistent  with  truth  and  sin- 
cerity, by  a  prudent  silence  where  he  cannot  concur,  and  a 
pleasing  assent  where  he  can. 


AID  ONE  ANOTHER.  211 

©HE    FF^BTPUL    0}AN. 


BY  WILLIAM  COWPER. 


Some  fretful  tempers  wince  at  every  touch; 

You  always  do  too  little  or  too  much; 

You  speak  with  life,  in  hopes  to  entertain; 

Your  elevated  voice  goes  through  the  brain. 

You  fall  at  once  into  a  lower  key — 

That's  worse,  the  drone-pipe  of  a  bumble-bee. 

The  southern  sash  admits  too  strong  a  light; 
You  rise  and  drop  the  curtain — now  'tis  night. 
He  shakes  with  cold;  you  stir  the  fire,  and  strive 
To  make  a  blaze — that's  roasting  him  alive. 
Serve  him  with  venison,  and  he  chooses  fish; 
With  sole — that's  just  the  sort  he  would  not  wish. 

He  takes  what  he  at  first  professed  to  loathe, 
And  in  due  time  feeds  heartily  on  both; 
Yet  still  o'erclouded  with  a  constant  frown. 
He  does  not  swallow,  but  he  gulps  it  down. 
Your  hope  to  please  him  vain  on  every  plan, 
Himself  should  work  that  wonder,  if  he  can. 

Alas,  his  efforts  double  his  distress! 
He  likes  yours  little,  and  his  own  still  less; 
Thus,  always  teasing  others,  always  teased. 
His  only  pleasure  is — to  be  displeased. 

piD  One  flNOTHBi^. 

In  human  society  social  rights  necessitate  their  own  observ- 
ance. When  the  sense  of  responsibility  is  blunted,  society  goes 
to  ruin.  "The  race  of  mankind,"  says  Sir  Walter  Scott, 
"would  perish,  did  they  cease  to  aid  each  other.  From  the 
time  that  the  mother  binds  the  child's  liead  till  the  moment  that 
some  kind  assistant  wipes  the  damp  from  the  brow  of  the 
dying,  we  cannot  exist  without  mutual  aid.  All,  therefore,  that 
need  aid  have  a  right  to  ask  it  from  their  fellow-mortals.  None 
w^ho  have  the  power  of  granting  aid  can  refuse  it  without 
Sfuilt." 


212  the  family. 

Selp-madb  ©ovbi^ty. 


BY  CUARLES  H.  SPURGEON. 


I  would  not  say  hard  words  against  poverty;  wherever  it 
comes  it  is  bitter  to  all;  but  you  will  mark,  as  you  notice  care- 
fully, that  while  a  few  are  poor  because  of  unavoidable  circum- 
stances, a  very  large  mass  of  the  poverty  of  London  is  the  sheer 
and  clear  result  of  profuseness,  want  of  forethought,  idleness, 
and,  worst  of  all,  drunkenness.  Ah,  that  drunkenness!  that  is 
the  master  evil!  If  drink  could  be  got  rid  of,  we  might  be  sure 
of  conquering  the  devil  himself.  The  drunkenness  created  by 
the  infernal  liquor  dens  which  plague-spot  the  whole  of  this 
huge  city  is  appalling.  No,  I- do  not  speak  in  haste,  or  let  slip- 
a  hasty  word;  many  of  the  drink-shops  are  nothing  less  than 
infernal;  in  some  respects  they  are  worse,  for  hell  has  its  uses 
as  a  divine  protest  against  sin,  but  as  for^the  gin  palace,  there  is 
nothing  to  be  said  in  its  favor.  The  vices  of  the  age  cause 
three-fourths  of  the  poverty.  If  you  could  look  at  the  homes 
to-night — the  wretched  homes  where  women  will  tremble  at  the 
sound  of  their  husband's  foot  as  he  comes  home,  \vhere  little 
children  will  crouch  down  with  fear  ujDon  their  little  heap  of 
straw  because  the  human  brute  who  calls  himself  "a  man"  will 
come  reeling  home  from  the  place  where  he  has  been  indulging 
his  appetites — if  you  could  look  at  such  a  sight,  and  remember 
it  will  be  seen  ten  thousand  times  over  to-night,  I  think  you 
would  say,  "God  help  us  by  all  means  to  save  some."  Since 
the  great  ax  to  lay  at  the  root  of  this  deadly  upas-tree  is  the 
gospel  of  Christ,  may  God  help  us  to  hold  that  ax  there,  and  to- 
work  constantly  with  it  till  the  huge  trunk  of  the  poison-tree 
begins  to  rock  to  and  fro,  and  we  get  it  down,  and  London  is- 
saved  from  the  wretchedness  and  misery  which  now  drips  from 
every  bough. 

Home,  though  filled  with  little  things,  is  a  place  of  grand 
opportunities,  and  that  one  who  is  conscientiously  trying  to- 
improve  them  is  doing  an  unending  work  for  good.  Hearts 
are  receiving  impressions — good  or  bad — are  being  made  hap- 
pier or  sadder,  each  day,  by  the  action  of  those  at  home. 


famil  y  deb  ts.  213 

Family   Dbbts. 


BY  T.  DE  Wm  TALMAGE. 


The  trouble  is,  my  friends,  that  people  do  not  understand  the 
ethics  of  going  in  debt,  and  that  if  you  purchase  goods  with  no 
•expectation  of  paying  for  them,  or  go  into  debts  which  you  can- 
not meet,  you  steal  just  so  much  money.  If  I  go  into  a  grocery 
store  and  buy  sugars,  and  coffees,  and  meats,  with  no  capacity 
to  pay  for  them,  and  no  intention  of  paying  for  them,  I  am  much 
more  dishonest  than  if  I  go  into  the  store,  and  when  the  grocer's 
face  is  turned  the  other  way  I  fill  my  pockets  with  the  articles 
of  merchandise  and  carry  off  a  ham!  In  the  one  case  I  take 
the  merchant's  time,  and  I  take  the  time  of  his  messenger  to 
transfer  the  goods  to  my  house,  while  in  the  other  case  I  take 
none  of  the  time  of  the  merchant,  and  I  wait  upon  myself,  and 
I  transfer  the  goods  without  any  trouble  to  him!  In  other 
-words,  a  sneak-thief  is  not  so  bad  as  a  man  who  contracts  for 
debts  he  never  expects  to  pay. 

Yet,  in  all  our  cities  there  are  families  that  move  every  May- 
day to  get  into  proximity  to  other  grocers,  and  meat-shops,  and 
apothecaries.  They  owe  everj-^body  within  half  a  mile  of  where 
they  now  live,  and  next  May  they  will  move  into'a  distant  part 
•of  the  city,  finding  a  new  lot  of  victims.  Meanwhile,  you,  the 
honest  family  in  the  new  house,  are  bothered  day  by  day  by  the 
knocking  at  the  door  of  disappointed  bakers,  and  dry-goods 
dealers,  and  newspaper-carriers,  and  you  are  asked  where  your 
predecessor  is.  You  do  not  know.  It  was  arranged  you  should 
not  know.  Meanwhile,  your  predecessor  has  gone  to  some  dis- 
tant part  of  the  city,  and  the  people  who  have  any  thing  to  sell 
have  sent  their  wagons  and  stopped  there  to  solicit  the  "  valu- 
able" custom  of  the  new  neighbor,  and  he,  the  new  neighbor, 
■with  great  complacency,  and  with  an  air  of  affluence,  orders 
the  finest  steaks,  and  the  highest-priced  sugars,  and  the  best  of 
the  canned  fruits,  and  perhaps  all  the  newspapers.  And  the 
debts  will  go  on  accumulating  until  he  gets  his  goods  on  the 
30th  of  next  April  in  the  furniture  cart. 

No  wonder  that  so  many  of  our  merchants  fail  in  business. 
They  are  swindled  into  bankruptcy  by  these  wandering  Arabs, 
these  nomads  of  city  life.     They  cheat  the  grocer  out  of  the 


214  THE  FAMILY,  ■ 

green  apples  which  make  them  sick,  the  physician  who  attends- 
them  during  their  distress,  and  the  undertaker  who  fits  them  out 
for  departure  from  the  neighborhood  where  they  owe  every- 
body when  they  pay  the  debt  of  nature — the  only  debt  they  ever 
do  pay! 

Lxooi^  Oluf  pof^  the  FJOGI^S. 

A  gentleman  crossing  the  English  Channel  stood  near  the 
helmsman.  It  was  a  calm  and  pleasant  evening,  and  no  one- 
dreamed  of  a  possible  danger  to  their  good  ship.  But  a  sudden 
flapping  of  a  sail,  as  if  the  wind  had  shifted,  caught  the  ear  of 
the  officer  on  watch,  and  he  sjorang  at  once  to  the  wheel,  ex- 
amining closely  the  compass. 

"  You  are  half  a  point  oflf  the  course,"  he  said  sharply  to  the 
man  at  the  wheel.  The  deviation  was  corrected,  and  the  officer 
returned  to  his  post. 

''You  must  steer  very  accurately,"  said  the  looker-on,  "  when 
only  half  a  point  is  so  much  thought  of." 

"Ah!  half  a  point  in  many  places  might  bring  us  directly  on 
the  rocks,"  he  said. 

So  it  is  in  life.  Half  a  point  from  strict  truthfulness  strands 
us  above  the  rocks  of  falsehood.  Half  a  point  from  perfect 
honesty,  and  we  are  steering  right  for  the  rocks  of  crime.  And 
so  of  all  kindred  vices.  The  beginnings  are  always  small.  No- 
one  climbs  to  a  summit  at  one  bound,  but  goes  up  one  little  step 
at  a  time.  Children  think  lightly  of  what  they  call  small  sins^ 
These  rpcks  do  not  look  so  fearful  to  them. 

Sbi^yants.  • 

"Sir,"  says  Ruskin,  "there  is  only  one  way  to  have  good 
servants — that  is,  to  be  worthy  of  being  well  served.  All  nat- 
ure and  all  humanity  will  serve  a  good  master  and  rebel  against 
an  ignoble  one.  And  there  is  no  surer  test  of  the  quality  of  a 
nation  than  the  quality  of  its  servants,  for  they  are  their  masters' 
shadows,  and  distort  their  faults  in  a  flattened  mimicry.  A  wisQ- 
nation  will  have  philosophers  in  its  sei'vants'  hall;  a  knavish 
nation  will  have  knaves  there,  and  a  kindly  nation  will  have 
friends  there.  Only  let  it  be  remembered  that  '  kindness '^ 
means,  as  with  your  child,  so  with  your  servant — not  indulgence, 
but  care." 


HELPS  FOR  THE  FAMILY.  215 

©HE   Old   fJOMB. 

It  sleeps  beneath  the  sunny  hill, 

As  in  a  tranquil  dream; 
The  giant  elms  are  spreading  still 

Above  the  meadow  stream. 

Wild  birds  that  join  in  music  sweet, 

And  quiet  sheep  and  cows, 
Find  grateful  shelter  from  the  heat 

Beneath  those  leafy  boughs. 

All  day  among  the  scented  grass 

The  crickets  leap  and  sing, 
And  green  and  golden  shadows  pass 

Like  swallows  on  the  wing. 

How  calmly  in  the  sheltered  nook 

The  summer  hours  may  go, 
Yet  bright  and  joyous  as  the  brook 

That  sings  with  deep'ning  flow. 

O  world,  with  all  thy  cities'  pi'ide, 

Thy  plains  and  valleys  green, 
Thou  hast  not  in  thy  bound'ries  wide 

So  sweet,  so  fair  a  scene! 

F^ELPS  POf^  THE  Family. 

Money  laid  out  in  song-books,  organs,  music-teachers,  and 
tuners  pays  compound  interest,  bringing  health  to  body,  quiet 
minds,  balm  to  hearts,  and  makes  the  home  an  ante-chamber  to 
the  choir  above. 

Put  your  homes  into  close  communication  with  the  church 
and  the  school,  and  keep  open  house  for  ?very  good  cause. 

Call  to  your  aid  every  good  agency  that  will  make  home-life 
sweeter  and  give  the  good  control  of  your  children's  characters. 
The  great  things  you  are  going  to  do  for  them  in  the  future  had 
better  be  swapped  off'for  the  daily  little  attentions  which  feed  the 
affections  and  mold  the  character,  and  bind  them  to  you  by 
heart-cords  that  never  bi'eak. 


216  THE  FAMILY. 

Booi^s  POF^  THE  Family. 

Books  are  a  guide  in  youth  and  an  entertainment  for  age. 
They  support  us  under  solitude,  and  keep  us  from  becoming  a 
burden  to  ourselves.  They  help  us  to  forget  the  crossness  of 
men  and  things,  compose  our  cares  and  our  passions,  and  lay 
our  disappointments  asleep.  When  we  are  weary  of  the  living 
we  may  repair  to  the  dead,  w^ho  have  nothing  of  peevishness, 
pride,  or  design  in  their  conversation. 

^HIIiDI^EN   AND   F^OMB   (sONYBI^SAiIiION. 

Children  hunger  perpetually  for  new  ideas.  They  will  learn 
with  pleasure  from  the  lips  of  parents  what  they  deem  drudgery 
to  learn  from  books;  and  even  if  they  have  the  misfortune  to  be 
deprived  of  many  educational  advantages,  they  will  grow  up 
intelligent  if  they  enjoy  in  childhood  the  privilege  of  listening 
to  the  conversation  of  intelligent  people.  Let  them  have  many 
opportunities  of  learning  in  this  way.  Be  kind  to  them,  and 
don't  think  it  beneath  you  to  answer  their  little  questions,  for 
they  proceed  from  an  implanted  faculty  which  every  true  man 
and  woman  should  take  a  great  delight  in  gratifying. 

fl   I^I^AGTIGAIi  (©ALGUIiATION. 

Two  drinks  of  whisky  mean  a  pound  and  a  half  of  beef- 
steak; two  beers,  a  dinner  of  mutton-chops;  one  cocktail,  an 
egg-plant  or  a  head  of  cauliflower.  ."  What'll  you  take,  Char- 
lie?" stands  for  a  nice  oyster-stew  for  the  whole  faipily  Sun- 
day morning.  "  Set  'em  up  again,"  means  sugar  in  the  house 
for  a  month.  This  is  a  bit  of  practical  domestic  economy,  fur- 
nished by  a  working-man  for  the  consideration  of  his  fellows. 

Gyil  (sI^ITIGISM. 

Seest  thou  a  man  of  Brobdingnagian  intellect  and  overween- 
ing egotism?  There  is  more  hope  of  a  fool  than  of  him!  If 
there  be  any  thing  simple,  yet  strong  to  do  good;  any  thing  be- 
loved by  the  children  of  men  and  well  suited  to  the  raising  of 
humanity  from  its  low  estate,  and  yet  which  hath  not  conformed 
to  his  ideas  of  suitableness — then  he  doth  not  hesitate  to  declare 
it  a  sham,  and  vent  his  spleen  and  ill-will  in  disparaging  re- 
marks. 


THE  QUEEN  OF  HOME.  217 

P^OMB. 


BY  EMMA  CAMPBELL. 


How  varied  are  the  sensations  which  this  word  awakens  in 
■different  individuals — different  because  of  the  character  of  the 
liomes! 

Whatever  the  combined  sensations  may  be,  that  of  tenderness 
is  prominent  among  them.  For  whether  the  object  affected  has 
ever  had  a  home  or  not,  he  has  heard  of  or  seen  homes  wherein 
peace  and  happiness  reign  supreme;  and  there  exists  within 
him  an  intense  longing  for  such  a  refuge  in  which  to  hide  him- 
•self  from  the  petty  cares  of  worldly  life. 

And  how  pleasant  it  is  to  have  such  a  place  to  go  to  after  the 
harassing  cares  of  one's  business,  where,  if  they  do  cling  to  him 
even  to  the  house-door,  there  they  are  obliged  to  succumb  to 
home  influences,  and,  baffled  by  the  bright  faces  of  the  family 
that  rush  to  meet  the  loved  one,  await  outside  until  the  victim 
again  appears. 

Then,  let  us  make  our  homes  the  pleasantest  of  all  pleasant 
places,  pervaded  with  that  delightful  restfulness  so  highly  prized 
by  all,  and  seek  by  love  to  crowd  out  in  the  cold  that  old  tor- 
mentor— Care. 

She   gLfEEN    OP  "r^OME. 

Honor  the  dear  old  mother.  Time  has  scattered  snowy  flakes 
on  her  brow,  plowed  deep  furrows  on  her  cheeks;  but  is  she  not 
sweet  and  beautiful  now.''  The  lips  are  thin  and  shrunken,  but 
those  are  the  lips  which  have  kissed  many  a  hot  tear  from  the 
childish  cheeks,  and  they  are  the  sweetest  lips  in  the  world. 
The  eye  is  dim,  yet  it  glows  with  the  soft  radiance  that  can 
never  fade.  Ah!  yes,  she  is  a  dear  old  mother.  The  sands  of 
life  ai^e  nearly  run  out,  but,  feeble  as  she  is,  she  will  go  further 
and  reach  down  lower  for  you  than  any  other  upon  earth. 
You  cannot  enter  a  prison  whose  bars  can  keep  her  out;  you 
cannot  mount  a  scaffold  too  high  for  her  to  reach  that  she  may 
kiss  and  bless  you  in  evidence  of  her  deathless  love  when  the 
world  shall  despise  and  forsake  you;  when  it  leaves  you  by  the 
wayside  to  perish  unnoticed,  the  dear  old  mother  will  gather 


218  THE  FAMILY. 

you  in  her  feeble  arms  and  carry  you  home  and  tell  you  all  your 
virtues  until  you  almost  forget  that  your  soul  is  disfigured  by 
vices.  Love  her  tenderly,  and  cheer  the  declining  years  vfiXh 
holy  devotion. 

©HE  Blessing  op  a  r^oMs. 

Perhaps  no  country  has  so  many  homes  ow^ned  by  the  people 
who  occupy  them  as  our  own.  This  is  a  piece  of  good  fortune 
for  free  America  and  its  institutions;  it  solves  many  problems 
which  vex  the  governments  of  Europe,  and  which  in  time  will 
change  their  form.  Man  is  a  domestic  animal;  he  wishes  for  a 
spot  of  earth  which  he  can  call  his  own,  and  which,  with  the 
proper  amount  of  labor,  will  yield  him  a  support.  Until  he 
reaches  this  state  he  is  but  a  straw  in  the  wind,  the  child  of 
fickle  fortune,  the  creature  of  every  trivial  circumstance.-  To- 
have  a  home  is  to  be  independent,  courageous,  manly.  With 
it  comes  a  train  of  other  blessings — home  influences  for  the  fam- 
ily, a  quiet  haven  for  rest  in  the  storm  and  stress  of  life,  a  castle 
for  protection,  a  place  to  be  made  beautiful,  the  center  of  art,, 
music,  poetry,  and  all  the  human  aflfections,  a  place  that  should 
be  a  foretaste  of  and  preparation  for  that  heavenly  bliss  to  which 
we  all  aspire.  • 

IqOME   flPJPEI^   BUSINESS   f^OUP^S. 

Happy  is  the  man  who  can  find  that  solace  and  that  poetry 
at  home.  Warm  greetings  from  loving  hearts,  fond  glances 
from  bright  eyes,  and  welcome  shouts  of  merry-hearted  children,, 
the  many  thousand  little  arrangements  for  comfort  and  enjoy- 
ment that  silently  teU  of  thoughtful  and  expectant  love — these 
are  the  ministrations  that  reconcile  us  to  the  prose  of  life. 
Think  of  this,  ye  wives  and  daughters  of  business  men!  Think 
of  the  toils,  the  anxieties,  the  mortification  and  wear  that  fathers- 
undergo  to  secui-e  for  you  comfortable  homes,  and  compensate 
them  for  their  toils  by  making  them  happy  by  their  own  fire- 
side. 

One  of  the  benefits  of  family  prayer  is  that  it  makes  the  head 
of  the  family  more  watchful  of  his  outward  behavior.  He  will 
be  less  likely  to  snarl  at  the  children  when  he  remembers  that 
he  is  about  to  talk  to  God  in  their  presence. 


THE  LIGHT  OF  HOME.  219 

©HE    IlIGHIT    OP    I7OMB. 


BY  MRS.  UAT.E. 


My  boy,  thou  wilt  dream  the  world  is  fair, 

And  thy  spirit  will  sigh  to  roam; 
And  thou  must  go — but  never^  when  there, 

Forget  the  light  of  home. 

Though  pleasure  may  smile  with  a  ray  more  bright, 

It  dazzles  to  lead  astray! 
Like  the  meteor's  flash,  'twill  deepen  the  night, 

When  thou  treadest  the  lonely  way. 

But  the  hearth  of  home  has  a  constant  flame. 

And  pure  as  vestal  fire; 
'Twill  burn,  'twill  burn  forever  the  same. 

For  nature  feeds  the  pyre. 

The  sea  of  ambition  is  tempest-tost, 

And  thy  hopes  may  vanish  like  foam; 
But  when  sails  are  shivered,  and  rudder  lost. 

Then  look  to  the  hght  of  home. 

And  there,  like  a  star  through  the  midnight  cloud. 

Thou  shalt  see  the  beacon  bright; 
For  never,  till  shining  on  thy  shroud, 

Can  be  quenched  its  holy  light. 

The  sun  of  fame,  'twill  gild  the  name. 

But  the  heart  ne'er  felt  its  ray; 
And  fashion's  smiles,  that  rich  ones  claim. 

Are  but  beams  of  a  wintry  day. 

And  how  cold  and  dim  those  beams  must  be. 
Should  life's  wretched  wanderer  come! 

But,  my  boy,  when  the  world  is  dark  to  thee. 
Then  turn  to  the  light  of  home. 

Nothing  can  supply  the  place  of  good  books.  They  are  cheer- 
ing and  soothing  companions  in  solitude,  illness,  or  affliction. 
The  wealth  of  both  continents  could  not  compensate  for  the 
good  they  impart. — Charming. 


220  THE  FAMIL  Y. 

LiBT   r^OMB   BE   CQaDB   f^APPY. 

Industry  is  a  homely  virtue,  yet  worthy  of  all  praise.  Expe- 
rience, religion,  philosophy,  alike  inculcate  it.  Even  Nature  her- 
self reads  us  a  frequent  lecture  upon  it.  Let  us  go  for  a  mo- 
ment from  the  haunts  of  men  to  the  bosom  of  the  quiet  forest. 
Here  we  shall  find  no  noisy  sound  of  the  mill,  the  hammer,  or 
the  saw.  It  is  silent.  But  look  around,  and  see  what  has  been 
•done  by  the  busy,  though  quiet,  hand  of  Nature.  See  the  rock 
— how  artfully  it  is  woven  over  with  moss,  as  if  to  hide  its 
roughness;  and  how  an  object,  of  itself  uninteresting,  is  thus 
rendered  beautiful. 

Look  at  the  ragged  banks  of  the  brawling  stream.  See  the 
tufts  of  grass,  the  spreading  shrubs,  and  gaudy  wild  flowers 
that  cover  it,  and  thus  turn  into  beauty  the  very  deformity  of 
the  wilderness.  Look  down  upon  the  valley,  and  see  how  the 
withered  leaves,  the  moldering  branches  of  trees,  the  scattered 
stems,  and  other  objects — witnesses  of  decay  and  death — are 
■carpeted  over  by  grasses  and  flowers. 

How  beautiful,  how  ornamental,  are  the  works  of  Nature, 
€ven  in  the  wilderness  and  the  solitary  place!  She  seems  to 
decorate  them  all,  as  if  each  spot  were  a  garden,  in  which  God 
might  perchance  walk,  as  once  in  Eden;  and  she  would  have 
it  fitly  arrayed  for  his  inspection.  And  shall  not  man  learn  a 
homely  lesson  fi'om  this  lecture  in  the  wood?  Will  you  look  at 
Nature,  and  see  her,  with  industrious  fingers,  weaving  flowers, 
.and  plants,  and  grasses,  and  trees,  and  shrubs,  to  ornament  every 
part  of  the  earth;  and  will  you  go  home  no  wiser  for  the  hint? 
Will  you  go  home  to  that  dear  spot  upon  which  the  heart  should 
«hine  as  the  sun  in  spring-time  upon  the  flowers,  and  permit  it 
to  be  the  scene  of  idleness,  negligence,  and  waste?  Will  you 
permit  it  to  be  a  naked  shelter  from  the  weather,  like  the  den 
of  a  wild  beast?  Will  you  not  rather  adorn  it  by  your  indus- 
try, as  Nature  adorns  the  field  and  the  forest? 

If  you  say  that  this  is  somewhat  fanciful,  and  should  be  re- 
garded rather  as  illustration  than  argument,  let  it  be  admitted. 
Still,  are  not  the  works  of  Nature  designed  to  have  an  influ- 
■ence  of  this  kind  upon  us?  Why  do  we  feel  their  beauty  and 
carry  their  images  in  our  bosoms  but  as  a  language  in  which 
our  Creator  would  sj^eak  to  us,  move  us,  educate  us? 


EXAMPLE  IN  THE  FAMILY.  221 

If  the  trembling  strinjij  that  is  set  in  the  wind  yieltls  melody 
to  the  ear,  shall  we  not  listen  to  it?  And  if  Nature  would  thus 
become  a  monitor,  shall  we  not  learn  of  her?  If  she  sets  us  a 
useful  and  beautiful  example,  shall  we  not  follow  it?  If  she 
adorns  the  dell,  the  vale,  the  slope,  the  hill-^coverinj;  up  what- 
ever may  offend,  and  displaying,  in  rich  colors  and  beautiful 
forms,  her  fairy  designs  of  leaves  and  flowers — shall  wc  not 
imitate  her? 

It  seems  to  me  no  violent  stretch  of  faith  to  deem  all  this  as 
meant  for  practical  teaching  to  man.  Nature  is  industrious  in 
adorning  her  dominions;  and  man,  to  whom  this  beauty  is 
addressed,  should  feel  and  obey  the  lesson.  Let  him,  too,  be 
industrious  in  adorning  his  domain — in  making  his  home,  the 
dwelling  of  his  wife  and  children,  not  only  convenient  and 
comfortable,  but  pleasant.  Let  him,  as  far  as  circumstances  will 
permit,  be  industrious  in  surrounding  it  with  pleasant  objects — 
in  decorating  it,  within  and  without,  with  things  that  tend  to 
make  it  agreeable  and  attractive. 

Let  industry  and  taste  make  home  the  abode  of  neatness  and 
order — a  place  which  brings  satisfaction  to  every  inmate,  and 
which  in  absence  draws  back  the  heart  by  the  fond  associations 
of  comfort  and  content.  Let  this  be  done,  and  this  sacred  spot 
will  become  more  surely  the  scene  of  cheerfulness,  kindness, 
and  peace.  Ye  parents  who  would  have  your  children  happy, 
be  industrious  to  bring  them  up  in  the  midst  of  a  pleasant,  a 
cheerful,  a  happy  home. 

Waste  not  your  time  in  accumulating  unnecessary  wealth  for 
them,  but  plant  their  minds  and  souls,  in  the  way  proposed,  with 
the  seeds  of  virtue  and  true  prosperity.  Let  children  join  with 
their  parents  in  trying  to  make  home  a  happy  place.  Let  them 
not  forget  that  they  may  do  much  to  promote  this  object.  They 
can  at  least  practice  obedience  to  parents  and  kindness  to  aW 
around. 

eXAMPLB   IN   THE   FAMILY. 

The  exhortation  is  for  each  one  of  you.  Your  very  servants 
should  be  made  to  feel  that  you  are,  indeed,  the  salt  of  the  earth 
and  the  light  of  the  world.  Ask  your  own  consciences  prayer- 
fully whether  your  life  is  an  exposition  of  gospel  truth. 


222  TME  FAMILY. 

INPLUBNGB   OP    P^OMB. 


BY  BICHAKD  HENEY  DANA. 


Home  gives  a  certain  serenity  to  the  mind,  so  that  every  thing 
is  well  defined  and  in  a  clear  atmosphere,  and  the  lesser  beau- 
ties brought  out  to  rejoice  in  the  pui'e  glow  which  floats  over 
and  beneath  them  from  the  earth  and  sky.  In  this  state  of  mind 
afflictions  come  to  us  chastened,  and  if  the  wrongs  of  the  world 
cross  us  in  our  door-path  we  put  them  aside  without  anger. 
Vices  are  about  us,  not  to  lure  us  away  or  make  us  morose,  but 
to  remind  us  of  our  frailty  and  keep  down  our  pride. 

We  are  put  into  a  right  relation  with  the  world,  neither 
holding  it  in  proud  scorn,  like  the  solitary  man,  nor  being  car- 
ried along  by  shifting  and  hurried  feelings,  and  vague  and  care- 
less notions  of  things,  like  the  world's  man.  We  do  not  take 
novelty  for  improvement,  or  set  up  vogue  for  a  rule  of  conduct; 
neither  do  we  despair,  as  if  all  great  virtues  had  departed  with 
the  years  gone  by,  though  we  see  new  vices  and  frailties  taking 
growth  in  the  very  light  which  is  spreading  over  the  earth. 

Our  safest  way  of  coming  into  communion  with  mankind 
is  through  our  own  household.  For  there  our  sorrow  and  regret 
at  the  failings  of  the  bad  are  in  proportion  to  our  love,  while  our 
familiar  intercourse  with  the  good  has  a  secretly  assimilating 
influence  upon  our  characters.  The  domestic  man  has  an  inde- 
pendence of  thought  which  puts  him  at  ease  in  society,  and  a 
cheerfulness  and  benevolence  of  feeling  which  seem  to  ray  out 
from  him,  and  to  difftise  a  pleasurable  sense  over  those  near 
him,  like  a  soft,  bright  day. 

As  domestic  life  strengthens  a  man's  virtue,  so  does  it  help 
to  a  sound  judgment  and  a  right  balancing  of  things,  and  gives 
an  integrity  and  propriety  to  the  whole  character.  God,  in  his 
goodness,  has  ordained  that  virtue  should  make  its  own  enjoy- 
ment, and  that  wherever  a  vice  or  frailty  is  rooted  out  some- 
thing should  spring  up  to  be  a  beauty  and  delight  in  its  stead. 
But  a  man  of  a  character  rightly  cast  has  j^leasures  at  home, 
which,  though  fitted  to  his  highest  nature,  are  common  to  him 
as  his  daily  food;  and  he  moves  about  his  house  under  a  con- 
tinued sense  of  them,  and  is  happy  almost  without  heeding  it. 

Women  have  been  called  angels  in  love-tales  and  sonnets, 


INFLUENCE  OF  HOME.  223 

till  we  have  almost  learned  to  think  of  angels  as  little  better 
than  women.  Yet  a  man  who  knows  a  woman  thoroughly,  and 
loves  her  truly — and  there  arc  women  who  may  be  so  known 
and  loved — will  find,  after  a  few  years,  that  his  relish  for  the 
grosser  pleasures  is  lessened,  and  that  he  has  grown  into  a  fond- 
ness for  the  intellectual  and  refined  without  an  effort  and  almost 
unawares. 

He  has  been  led  on  to  virtue  through  his  pleasures,  and  the 
delights  of  the  eye,  and  the  gentle  play  of  that  passion  which 
is  the  most  inward  and  romantic  in  our  nature,  and  which  keeps 
much  of  its  character  amidst  the  concerns  of  life,  have  held  him 
in  a  kind  of  spiritualized  existence;  he  shares  his  very  being 
with  one  who,  a  creature  of  this  world,  and  with  something  of 
the  world's  frailties, 

"  Is  yet  a  spirit  still,  and  bright 
With  something  of  an  angel  light." 

With  all  the  sincerity  of  a  companionship  of  feeling,  cares, 
sorrows,  and  enjoyments,  her  presence  is  as  the  presence  of  a 
purer  being,  and  there  is  that  in  her  nature  which  seems  to  bring 
him  nearer  to  a  better  world.  She  is,  as  it  were,  linked  to  an- 
gels, and  in  his  exalted  moments  he  feels  himself  held  by  the 
same  tie. 

In  the  ordinary  affairs  of  life  a  woman  has  a  greater  influence 
over  those  near  her  'than  a  man.  While  our  feelings  are,  foi 
the  most  part,  as  retired  as  anchorites^  hers  are  in  play  before 
us.  We  hear  them  in  her  varying  voice;  we  see  them  in  tl>e 
beautiful  and  harmonious  undulations  of  her  movements — in  the 
quick-shifting  hues  of  her  face — in  her  eye,  glad  and  bright, 
then  fond  and  suffused;  her  frame  is  alive  and  active  with  what 
is  at  her  heart,  and  all  the  outward  form  speaks.         , 

She  seems  of  a  finer  mold  than  we,  and  cast  in  a  form  of 
beauty  which,  like  all  beauty,  acts  with  a  moral  influence  upon 
our  hearts;  and  as  she  moves  about  us  we  feel  a  movement 
within  which  inses  and  spreads  gently  over  us,  harmonizing  us 
with  her  own.  And  can  any  man  listen  to  this — can  his  eye, 
day  after  day,  rest  upon  this — and  he  not  be  touched  by  it  and 
made  better.'' 

The  dignity  of  a  woman  has  its  peculiar  character;  it  awes 
more  than  that  of  man.     His  is  more  physical,  bearing  itself  up 


224  THE  FAMILY. 

with  an  energy  of  courage  which  we  may  brave,  or  a  strength 
which  we  may  struggle  against;  he  is  his  own  avenger,  and  we 
may  stand  the  brunt.  A  woman's  has  nothing  of  this  force  in 
it;  it  is  of  a  higher  quaHty,  and  too  dehcate  for  mortal  touch. 

f^OMB. 

There  is  a  land,  of  every  land  the  pride. 

Beloved  by  heaven  o'er  all  the  world  beside; 

Where  brighter  suns  dispense  serener  light, 

And  milder  moons  imparadise  the  night; 

A  land  of  beauty,  virtue,  valor,  truth. 

Time-tutored  age,  and  love-exalted  youth. 

The  wandering  mariner,  whose  eye  explores 

The  wealthiest  isles,  the  most  enchanting  shores, 

Views  not  a  realm  so  bountiful  and  fair, 

Nor  breathes  the  spirit  of  a  purer  air; 

In  every  clime  the  magnet  of  his  soul, 

Touched  by  remembrance,  trembles  to  that  pole; 

For  in  this  land  of  heaven's  peculiar  grace, 

The  heritage  of  nature's  noblest  race. 

There  is  a  spot  of  earth  supremely  blest — 

A  dearer,  sweeter  spot  than  all  the  rest — 

Where  man,  creation's  tyrant,  casts  aside 

His  sword  and  scepter,  pageantry  and  pride. 

While  in  his  softened  looks  benignly  blend 

The  sire,  the  son,  the  husband,  brother,  friend. 

Here  woman  reigns;  the  mother,  daughter,  wife, 

Strew  with  fresh  flowers  the  narrow  way  of  life! 

In  the  clear  heaven  of  her  delightful  eye 

An  angel-guard  of  love  and  graces  lie; 

ArOund  her  knees  domestic  duties  meet. 

And  fireside  pleasures  gambol  at  her  feet. 

Where  shall  that  land,  that  spot  of  earth,  be  found? 

Art  thou  a  man?  a  patriot?  look  around. 

O  thou  shalt  find,  howe'er  thy  footsteps  roam, 

That  land  thy  country  and  that  spot  thy  home! 

A  Bible  and  a  newspaper  in  every  house,  a  good  school  ii> 
every  district,  all  studied  and  appreciated  as  they  merit,  are  the 
principal  support  of  virtue,  morality,  and  civil  liberty. 


> 


need  be  little  beauty  if  trii 

The  siran;  >  will  find  ..  ^ 

hold  if  t:  irive  with  t 

liap^y.     His   brief   visit  will 
sweeter  than  t'  •  •    -^"  •— ■    -^    ^ 
of  Chamouni 

Tho  oards  hib  goiu  wilh 

j^ivc   ...     ..  .^^piness  and  pleasurcl 

strength  and  burns  his  life  away  seekin 
near  future! 

But  here  fond   hope  is  not  defeiT»'.!.   n    r  ',' ■ 
sick,  by   bitter   disappointment;   but    \. 
soul  with  folded  wing  and  gentle  i.  ■ 
the  breast  with  holy  joy,  while  hu]  , 
brook,  and  blessings   spring   like    beautilu 
margin. 

Dear  reader,  can  you  not  m»k«  such  a  hap 
heart,  a  disinterested  love  '  an  eai  .,  a  persc- 


There  i^  ;  an  home  w* 

inner  springs  oi   .^imiiy  lite  so  clearly  as  tl 
service.     You  may  visit  many  times  at   *' 
but  never  until  you  have  bowed  with 
family  altar  do  you  feel  that  you  have  ; 
holy  of  holies  of  home.     Stransjf  that  so.... 
time  to  keep  up  family  prayer  bci  lase  of  t5 
)f  business!    This  rush  an;: 
>aries,  but  the  luxuries,  oi 
taste  can  equal  the  scene 
'lip  the  F  .;" 
.:t  gift?      . 
at  sheds  bea<.  y  be  made  iit  the  hum 


226  the  family. 

She  Family  CQeeting. 


BY  CHARLES  SPRAGUE. 


We  are  all  here! 

Father,  mother,  sister,  brother, 

All  who  hold  each  other  dear. 
Each  chair  is  filled;  we're  all  at  home; 
To-night  let  no  cold  stranger  come. 
It  is  not  often  thus  around 
Our  old  familiar  hearth  we're  found. 
Bless,  then,  the  meeting  and  the  spot; 
For  once  be  every  care  forgot; 
Let  gentle  Peace  assert  her  power, 
And  kind  Affection  rule  the  hour. 

We're  all — all  here. 

We're  not  all  here! 

Some  are  away — the  dead  ones  dear, 
Who  thronged  with  us  this  ancient  hearth, 
And  gave  the  hour  to  guileless  mirth. 
Fate,  with  a  stern,  relentless  hand, 
Looked  in  and  thinned  our  little  band. 
Some,  like  a  night-flash,  passed  away. 
And  some  sank  lingering  day  by  day; 
The  quiet  grave-yard — some  lie  there — 
And  cruel  Ocean  has  his  share. 

We're  not  all  here. 

We  are  all  here! 
•     Even  they,  the  dead — though  dead,  so  dear. 
Fond  Memory,  to  her  duty  true. 
Brings  back  their  faded  forms  to  view. 
How  life-like,  through  the  mist  of  years. 
Each  well-remembered  face  appears! 
We  see  them  as  in  times  long  past. 
From  each  to  each  kind  looks  are  cast; 
We  hear  their  words,  their  smiles  behold, 
They're  round  us  as  they  were  of  old. 
We  are  all  here. 


A  MO THER 'S  LOVE.  287 

We  arc  all  here! 

Father,  mother,  sister,  brother, 

You  that  I  love  with  love  so  dear. 
This  may  not  long  of  us  be  said; 
Soon  must  we  join  the  gathered  dead, 
And  by  the  hearth  we  now  sit  round, 
Some  other  circle  will  be  found. 
O  then,  that  wisdom  may  we  know  , 

Which  yields  a  life  of  peace  belowj 
So,  in  the  world  to  follow  this, 
May  each  repeat,  in  words  of  bliss, 

We're  all — all — here! 

fl   (QOiPHEI^'S   LXOVB. 

BY  ALBERT  BARNES. 


Many  of  us  who  are  advanced  beyond  the  period  of  child- 
hood went  out  from  home  to  embark  on  the  stormy  sea  of  life. 
Of  the  feelings  of  a  father,  and  of  his  interest  in  our  welfare, 
we  have  never  entertained  a  doubt,  and  our  home  was  dear  be- 
cause he  was  there;  but  there  was  a  peculiarity  in  the  feeling 
that  it  was  the  home  of  our  mother.  Where  she  lived  there 
was  a  place  that  we  felt  was  home.  There  was  one  place  where 
we  would  always  be  welcome,  one  place  where  we  would  be 
met  with  a  smile,  one  place  where  we  would  be  sure  of  a  friend. 

The  world  might  be  indifferent  to  us.  We  might  be  unsuc- 
cessful in  our  studies  or  our  business;  the  new  friends  which 
we  supposed  \%e  had  made  might  prove  to  be  false;  the  honor 
which  we  thought  we  deserved  might  be  withheld  from  us. 
We  might  be  chagrined  and  mortified  by  seeing  a  rival  outstrip 
us  and  bear  aw'ay  the  prize  which  we  sought.  But  there  was 
a  place  where  no  feelings  of  rivalry  Were  found,  and  where 
those  whom  the  world  overlooked  would  be  sure  of  a  friendly 
greeting.  Whether  pale  and  wan  by  study,  care,  or  sickness, 
or  flushed  with  health  and  flattering  success,  we  were  sure  that 
we  should  be  welcome  there. 

Though  the  world  was  cold  toward  us,  yet  there  was  one  who 
always  rejoiced  in  our  success,  and  always  was  affected  in  our 
reverses;  and  there  was  a  place  to  which  we  might  go  back 
from  the  storm  which  began  to  pelt  us,  where  we  might  rest 


228  THE  FAAIIL  Y. 

and  become  encouraged  and  invigorated  for  a  new  conflict.  So 
have  I  seen  a  bird,  in  its  first  efforts  to  fly.  leave  its  nest,  and 
stretch  its  wrings,  and  go  forth  to  the  wide  world.  But  the 
wind  blew  it  back,  and  the  rain  began  to  fall,  and  the  darkness 
of  night  began  to  draw  on,  and  there  was  no  shelter  abroad, 
and  it  sought  its  way  back  to  its  nest  to  take  shelter  beneath  its 
mother's  wings  and  to  be  I'efreshed  for  the  struggles  of  a  new  day ; 
but  then  it  flew  away,  to  think  of  its  nest  and  its  mother  no  more. 

But  not  thus  did  we  leave  our  home  when  we  bid  adieu  to  it 
to  go  forth  alone  to  the  manly  duties  of  life.  Even  amidst  the 
storms  that  then  beat  upon  us,  and  the  disappointments  that  we 
met  M'ith,  and  the  coldness  of  the  world,  we  felt  still  that  there 
was  one  who  sympathized  in  our  troubles,  as  well  as  rejoiced  in 
our  success,  and  that,  whatever  might  be  abroad,  when  we  en- 
tered the  door  of  her  dwelling  we  should  be  met  with  a  smile. 
We  expected  that  a  mother,  like  the  mother  of  Sisera  as  she 
"looked  out  at  her  window,"  waiting  for  the  coming  of  her  son 
laden  with  the  spoils  of  victory,  would  look  out  for  our  coming, 
and  that  our  return  would  renew  her  joy  and  ours  in  our  earlier 
days.  It  makes  a  sad  desolation  when  from  such  a  place  a 
mother  is  taken  away,  and  when,  whatever  may  be  the  sorrows 
or  the  successes  in  life,  she  is  to  greet  the  returning  son  or 
daughter  no  more.  The  home  of  our  childhood  may  be  still 
lovely.  The  old  family  mansion — the  green  fields — the  running 
stream — the  moss-covered  well — the  trees — the  lawn — the  rose 
— the  sweet-brier — may  be  there.  Perchance,  too,  there  may 
be  an  aged  father,  with  venerable  locks,  sitting  in  his  loneliness, 
with  every  thing  to  command  respect  and  lovex^  but  she  is  not 
there.  Her  familiar  voice  is  not  heard.  The  mother  has  been 
borne  forth  to  sleep  by  the  side  of  her  children  who  went  be- 
fore her,  and  the  place  is  not  what  it  was. 

There  may  be  those  there  whom  we  much  love;  but  she  is  not 
there.  We  may  have  formed  new  relations  in  life,  tender  and 
strong  as  they  can  be;  we  may  have  another  home,  dear  to  us 
as  was  the  home  of  our  childhood,  where  there  is  all  in  affec- 
tion, kindness,  and  religion,  to  make  us  happy;  but  that  home  is 
not  what  it  was,  and  it  will  never  be  what  it  was  again.  It  is  a 
loosening  of  one  of  the  cords  which  bound  us  to  earth,  designed 
to  prepare  us  for  our  eternal  flight  from  every  thing  dear  her£  be- 
low, and  to  teach  us  that  this  is  not  to  be  our  permanent  home. 


FATHER  IS  COMING.  229 

Fathbi^   is  (sOMING. 

The  clock  is  on  the  stroke  of  six, 

The  father's  work  is  done; 
Sweep  up  tlie  hearth,  and  mend  the  fire, 

And  put  the  kettle  on. 
The  wild  night-wind  is  blowing  cold, 
'Tis  dreary  crossing  o'er  the  wold.- 

He's  crossing  o'er  the  wold  apace, 

He's  stronger  than  the  storm; 
He  does  not  feel  the  cold — not  he — 

His  heart  it  is  so  warm. 

He  makes  all  toil,  all  hardship  light: 

Would  all  men  were  the  same! 
So  ready  to  be  pleased,  so  kind, 

So  ver}'  slow  to  blame! 
Folks  need  not  be  unkind,  austere. 
For  love  hath  readier  will  than  fear. 

Nay,  do  not  close  the  shutters,  child; 

For  far  along  the  lane 
The  little  window  looks,  and  he 

Can  sec  it  shining  plain. 
I've  heard  him  say  he  loves  to  mark 
The  cheerful  fire-light  through  the  dark. 

And  we'll  do  all  that  father  asks. 

His  wishes  are  so  few; 
Would  they  were  more!  that  every  hour 

Some  wish  of  his  I  knew! 
I'm  sure  it  makes  a  happy  day 
When  I  can  please  him  every  way. 

I  know  he's  coming  by  the  sign 

That  baby's  almost  wild; 
See  how  he  laughs,  and  crows,  and  stares; 

Heaven  bless  the  merry  child! 
He's  father's  self  in  face  and  limb, 
And  father's  heart  is  strong  in  him. 


230  THE  FAMILY. 

Hark!  hark!     I  hear  his  footsteps  now, 

He's  at  the  garden  gate; 
Run,  little  Bess,  and  ope  the  door, 

And  do  not  let  him  wait. 
Shout,  baby,  shout,  and  clap  thy  hands, 
For  father  on  the  threshold  stands. 

©00  rjEAVY  WimK  Debt. 

Not  many  years  ago  there  lived  not  many  miles  from  here  a 
respectable  and  influential  Church-member,  but  he  was  very 
slow  in  meeting  his  pecuniary  obligati6ns.  One  morning  his 
little  granddaughter,  an  interesting  child  of  nine  years,  and  his 
especial  pet,  said  to  him, 

"  Grandpa,  I  had  a  dream  about  you  last  night." 

"Well,  tell  it  to  me,  my  dear,"  he  said. 

The  little  girl,  very  much  affected,  replied. 

"I  thought  you  died  last  night,  and  the  angels  came  to  take 
you  to  heaven.  Soon  they  went  up,  until  almost  out  of  sight, 
when  they  became  confused,  and  coulcl  go  no  farther.  Then 
they  turned,  and  coming  down,  laid  you  on  the  ground,  saying: 
'You  are  too  heavy  for  us,  we  can't  carry  you  to  heaven; 
you  must  go  and  pay  your  debts,  they  weigh  you  down.  If 
you  settle  with  those  you  owe,  we  will  come  for  you  before 
long.'" 

The  old  gentleman,  greatly  agitated,  decided  at  once  to  pay 
all  the  debts  he  owed;  and  from  that  day  was  noted  for  his 
promptness  in  financial  matters.  It  was  not  long  before  the 
angels  came  for  him,  and  he  was  found  ready. 

SUI^YBY   OP    THE  ^EE}(. 

We  often  see  "  Survey  of  the  Week "  given  to  readers  by 
thoughtful  caterers  to  the  mind.  If,  in  homes,  the  ones  looking 
out  for  the  well-being  and  growth  of  the  inmates  should  give 
the  family  "survey  of  the  week"  as  regards  what  has  been 
done  in  the  home-field,  we  think  it  would  be  well.  Looking 
over  past  ground  helps  us  not  only  to  keep  in  knowledge  of 
just  how  much  has  really  been  accomplished,  but  also  aids  in 
the  accomplishing  of  still  more  in  days  coming. 


AT  FOURSCORE.  231 

©HB  CQOiPHBI^. 


BY  JESSE  T.  PECK,  D.D. 


This  is  a  charming  word.  It  presents  to  the  mind  a  purer, 
nobler  image  than  any  other  applied  to  human  beings.  It  rcy 
calls  a  thousand  memories  of  tender  sympathies,  devoted  atten- 
tions, and  afiectionate  counsels,  which  make  up  a  large  portion 
of  our  earlier  life.  We  respect  and  love  our  mothers  while 
living,  and  venerate  and  embalm  their  memories  when  dead. 
What  infinite  wisdom  is  revealed  in  the  maternal  and  filial  re- 
lations! The  true  mother  at  home  is  an  object  6f  interest  to 
men,  and  angels,  and  God.  She  is  the  female  representative  of 
the  family.  With  her  husband,  she  stands  at  its  head  and  exerts 
a  controlling  influence  over  its  character,  and  happiness,  and 
destiny.  The  world  feels  her  power,  and  the  good  and  honor- 
able of  all  nations  and  all  ages  combine  to  do  her  homage. 

flip    FOUI^SGOI^E. 

She  sits  in  the  gathering  shadows, 

By  the  porch  where  the  roses  blow, 
And  her  thoughts  are  back  in  the  summers 

That  vanished  long  ago; 
She  forgets  the  graves  on  the  hill-side, 

Forgets  that  she  is  old. 
And  remembers  only  the  gladness 

God  gave  her  heart  to  hold. 

As  she  sits  there  under  the  roses 

She  turns  her  dim  old  eyes 
To  the  road  that  leads  up  the  hill-side 
To  the  glory  of  simset  skies. 
"They  are  late,"  she  says,  and  listens, 

With  her  knitting  on  her  knee; 
"It  is  time  for  the  children's  coming; 
,  Where  can  the  little  ones  be?" 

She  fancies  she  hears  them  coming; 

"Ah,  here  at  last!"  she  cries, 
And  the  light  of  a  mother's  welcome 
Shines  in  her  faded  eyes. 


232  THE  FAMILY. 

"You've  been  gone  a  long  time,  children; 
Were  the  berries  thick,  my  dears?" 
She  asks,  as,  gathered  about  her, 
Each  child  of  old  appears. 

She  hears  the  merry  voices 

Of  the  dear  ones  that  are  dead; 
She  smooths  out  the  shining  tangles 

That  crown  each  little  head; 
She  kisses  the  faces  lifted 

To  hers,  as  in  days  of  old, 
And  the  heart  of  the  dreaming  mother 

Is  full  of  peace  untold. 

She  listens  to  eager  stories 

Of  what  they  saw  and  heard — 
Of  a  nest  in  the  blackberry  bushes, 

And  a  frightened  mother-bird; 
How  Johnnie  fell,  and  his  berries 

Were  lost  in  v/eeds  and  moss. 
And  Mary  was  'fraid,  and  dreaded 

The  brook  they  had  to  cross. 

So,  while  the  night  comes  downward, 

She  sits  with  her  children  there, 
Forgetting  the  years  that  took  them 

And  the  snowflakes  in  her  hair. 
The  love  that  will  last  forever 

Brings  back  the  dear,  the  dead. 
And  the  faithful  heart  of  the  mother 

With  her  dreams  is  comforted. 

Erelong  she  will  go  to  the  country 
Where  her  dear  ones  watch  and  wait 

For  her,  and  I  think  of  the  meeting 
There  at  the  jasper  gate. 

She  will  feel  their  welcoming  kisses, 
And  the  children's  father  will  say, 

As  the  household  is  gathered  in  heaven, 
"We're  all  at  home  to-day!" 


ECONOMY.  233 

Benepiips  op  a  (change. 

One  of  the  best  results  of  a  summer  vacation  and  a  little  trip 
away  from  home  is  to  enable  one  to  see  that  the  world  is  wide 
and  that  our  part  of  it  is  only  a  part  of  it,  and  the  advantage 
,  gained  from  this  knowledge  is  that  our  charity  and  kindly  feel- 
ing for  our  neighbor,  who  differs  from  us,  is  increased.  We 
find  that  the  old  adage  is  true:  it  does  take  all  kinds  of  people 
to  make  a  world.  Then,  with  what  increased  delight  tlje  usual 
routine  commences  in  the  home  again!  If  any  one  doubts  in 
regard  to  the  good  effects  of  a  brief  rest,  and  what  physicians 
call  a  change  of  air  and  scene,  let  her  try  it.  However  hard  it 
may  seem  to  unclasp  the  baby's  clinging  hands  and  to  say  good- 
by  to  her  restless  little  boys,  it  will  be  better  for  them  in  the 
end.  From  the  ceaseless  activity  and  the  urgency  of  a  mothers 
daily  life  there  must  be  periods  of  rest  and  change,  and  if  no 
other  member  of  the  family  can  get  away  for  a  week,  that  one 
should  be  the  mother;  for  in  the  well-regulated  life  of  a  sensi- 
ble man  there  is  not  the  friction  and  the  strain  upon  the  nerves 
which  the  mother  necessarily  feels.  But  the  ideal  journey  is 
wh»n  the  father  and  mother  go  together  for  a  few  days'  outing, 
and  if  there  is  any  power  to  make  parents  appreciate  all  that 
their  children  are  to  them,  it  is  the  power  which  separates  them 
for  a  few  days. 

€60N0MY. 

The  man  who  desires  to  have  economy  practiced  in  his  fam- 
ily must  himself  set  the  example.  He  must  have  a  proper  esti- 
mate of  the  worth  of  money.  Injudicious  trading,  wild  specu- 
lation, gambling,  dealing  in  futures,  drinking,  or  any  thing  that 
puts  in  jeopardy  and  renders  uncertain  the  family  resources,  is 
certain  to  beget  prodigality.  As  a  rule,  those  families  are  the 
most  extravagant  whose  resources  are  the  most  uncertain.  In- 
security induces  an  unhealthy  feeling,  a  sort  of  feverish  condi- 
tion of  life,  in  which  regular  habits  and  judicious  expenditures 
become  impossible.  If  there  is  danger  that  the  husband  will 
spend  the  earnings  for  drink,  the  wife  naturally  prefers  they 
should  go  for  silk.  If  there  is  a  feeling  of  uneasiness  lest 
through  speculation  the  fortune  may  be  lost,  it  is  to  be  ex- 
pected that  the  daughters  -would  like  to  have  a  good  supply  of 
it  in  dress  before  the  ci'ash  comes. 


234  THE  FAMILY. 

I^OGi^  CQb  ito  Sleep. 

Backward,  turn  backward,  O  Time,  in  your  flight! 
Make  me  a  child  again,  just  for  to-night! 
Mother,  conne  back  from  the  echoless  shore, 
Take  me  again  to  your  heart,  as  of  yore; 
Kiss  from  my  forehead  the  furrows  of  care. 
Smooth  the  few  silver  threads  out  of  my  hair' 
Over  my  slumbers  your  loving  watch  keep — 
Rock  me  to  sleep,  mother,  rock  me  to  sleep! 

Backwai'd,  flow  backward,  O  swift  tide  of  years! 
I  am  weary  of  toil,  I  am  weary  of  tears; 
Toil  without  recompense,  tears  all  in  vain — 
Take  them,  and  give  me  my  childhood  again! 
I  have  grown  weary'of  dust  and  decay, 
Weary  of  flinging  my  soul-wealth  away, 
Weary  of  sowing  for  others  to  reap — 
Rock  me  to  sleep,  mother,  rock  me  to  sleep! 

Tired  of  the  hollow,  the  base,  the  untrue. 
Mother,  O  mother!  my  heart  calls  for  you!  • 

Many  a  summer  the  grass  has  grown  green, 
Blossomed  and  faded,  our  faces  between; 
Yet  with  strong  yearning  and  passionate  pain. 
Long  I  to-night  for  your  presence  again; 
Come  from  the  silence  so  long  and  so  deep — 
Rock  me  to  sleep,  mother,  rock  me  to  sleep! 

Over  my  heart,  in  the  days  that  are  flown, 

No  love  like  mother-love  ever  has  shone; 

No  other  worship  abides  and  endures 

Faithful,  unselfish,  and  patient,  like  yours; 

None  like  a  mother  can  charm  away  pain 

From  the  sorrowing  soul  and  the  world-weary  brain; 

Slumber's  soft  calm  o'er  my  heavy  lids  creep — 

Rock  me  to  sleep,  mother,  rock  me  to  sleep! 

Come,  let  your  brown  hair,  just  lighted  with  gold, 
Fall  on  your  shoulders  again  as  of  old; 
Let  it  fall  over  my  forehead  to"-night. 
Shielding  my  eyes  from  the  flickering  light; 


AMERICAN  SCHOOLS.  28ft 

For  O  with  its  sunny-edged  shadows  once  more 
Haply  will  throng  the  sweet  visions  of  yore! 
Lovingly,  softly  its  bright  billows  sweep- 
Rock  me  to  sleep,  mother,  rock  me  to  sleep! 

Mother,  dear  mother!  the  years  have  been  long 
Since  last  I  was  hushed  by  your  lullaby  song; 
Sing,  then,  again — to  my  soul  it  shall  seem 
Womanhood's  years  have  been  only  a  dream; 
Clasp  to  your  arms  in  a  loving  embrace. 
With  your  soft,  light  lashes  just  sweeping  my  face, 
Never  hereafter  to  wake  or  to  weep — 
Rock  me  to  sleep,  mother,  rock  me  to  sleep! 

pMBi^iGAN  Schools. 

There  can  be  no  reasonable  doubt  that  our  best  American 
schools,  all  things  considered,  are  better  places  for  the  general 
training  of  young  children  than  corresponding  institutions 
abroad.  The  best  methods  of  German  and  British  educators 
are  found  in  these  schools,  generally  improved  by  passing 
through  the  common-sense  modification  and  more  humane 
and  democratic  administration  of  their  teachers.  Apart  from 
this,  the  instruction  and  discipline  of  in-door  school  life  is  a 
very  small  portion  of  a  child's  education.  No  family,  isolated 
abroad,  can  maintain  any  thing  like  an  American  home,  and 
the  whole  outside  life  to  the  child  is  strange  and  ill-adapted  to 
qualify  it  to  live  happily  and  usefully  in  its  own  country.  Any 
little  superiority  in  learning  or  accomplishments  is  clearly  pur- 
chased by  the  loss  of  what  can  never  be  regained — the  atmos- 
l^here  of  early  youth,  the  blending  of  home.  Church,  society, 
every  thing  that  makes  the  mighty  difference  between  America 
and  Europe — like  the  transition  from  an  elegant,  shut-up  interior 
to  the  light  and  shadows,  motion,  life,  and  nameless  inspiration 
of  all  out-doors. 

We  have  fallen  upon  perilous  times.  Vice  in  its  most  spe- 
cious forms,  in  its  most  bewitching  and  attractive  garb,  is 
abroad  in  the  land.  In  meeting  and  battling  it,  pulpit  and 
press  must  stand  side  by  side,  and  victory  will  be  sure  to  come 
by  and  by. 


286  the  family. 

Baby  J^as  Gone  to  Sghool. 

The  baby  has  gone  to  school.     Ah  me! 

What  will  the  mother  do, 
With  never  a  call  to  button  or  pin, 

Or  tie  a  little  shoe? 
How  can  she  keep  herself  busy  all  day. 
With  the  little  "hindering  thing"  away? 

Another  basket  to  fill  with  lunch. 

Another  "Good-by"  to  say. 
And  the  mother  stands  at  the  door  to  see 

Her  baby  march  away ; 
And  turns  with  a  sigh  that  is  half  relief. 
And  half  a  something  akin  to  grief. 

She  picks  up  the  garments  here  and  there, 
Thrown  down  in  careless  haste, 

And  tries  to  think  how  it  would  seem 
If  nothing  were  displaced. 

If  the  house  were  always  still  as  this, 

How  could  she  bear  the  loneliness? 

Be    (sAI^EPUL. 

If  you  perceive  that  any  thing  in  your  ways  makes  your  par- 
ents unhappy,  you  ought  to  have  no  peace  until  you  have  cor- 
rected it;  and  if  you  find  yourself  indifferent  and  insensible  to 
their  will  and  wishes,  depend  upon  it  yours  is  a  carnal,  diso- 
bedient, ungrateful  heart.  If  you  love  them,  keep  their  com- 
mandments; otherwise  love  is  a  mere  word  in  the  mouth,  or  a 
motion  in  the  fancy,  but  not  a  ruling  principle  in  the  heart. 
They  know  much  of  the  world;  you,  very  little.  Trust  them, 
therefore,  when  they  differ  with  you  and  refuse  compliance 
with  your  desire.  They  watch  over  you  for  your  good,  and  arc 
entitled  to  great  deference.  You  may  easily  shorten  the  lives 
of  affectionate  and  conscientious  parents  by  misconduct,  bad 
temper,  and  alienation  from  their  injunctions.  Let  not  this  sin 
be  laid  to  your  charge. 

The  meanness  of  this  world  is  helped  on  by  doing  unto  others 
as  you  think  they  would  do  unto  you  if  they  had  a  chance. 


KEEPING  HOUSE,  287 

I^BEPING    F7OUSB. 

To  be  a  housekeeper  involves  very  much  more  than  being 
:ible  to  sweep  rooms  and  cook  the  food  of  the  family;  and  no 
woman  should  marry  till  she  is  able  not  only  to  do  this,  but  to 
preside  over  a  household  with  good  economy,  with  forecast  and 
dignity.  She  must  understand  the  requirements  of  a  family, 
the  price  and  quantity  of  expenditure,  and  she  must  be  willing 
to  keep  a  rigid  account  thereof. 

Every  housekeeper  should  have  an  account-book,  in  which 
should  be  carefully  noted  down  every  article  purchased,  with 
date  and  price.  In  doing  this  a  woman  will  be  surprised  to 
learn  how  much  it  -costs  to  live,  and  she  will  learn  also  to  hus- 
band her  resources  and  to  avoid  unnecessary  expense.  She 
will  remember  that  while  all  the  time  and  energies  of  the  heads 
of  a  family  are  required  to  meet  daily  animal  necessities,  they 
are  no  better  than  slaves,  and  hence  it  seems  the  fitting  province 
of  a  woman  to  see  that  there  is  no  waste — that  what  is  brought 
into  the  house  is  carefully  looked  after,  made  to  go  as  far  as  pos- 
sible, made  to  look  as  well  as  possible,  made  to  afford  the  fullest 
possible  comfort  to  the  family. 

For  this  purpose  she  must  be  orderly  in  her  habits,  and  be 
capable  of  planning  with  judgment.  She  should  know  the 
quantities  required,  and  how  to  preserve  from  waste  what  is 
over  and  above  the  daily  needs  of  thq  household.  She  may  be 
pardoned  a  good  deal  of  girlish  vanity  in  dressing  herself,  and 
arranging  her  surroundings  becomingly,  in  order  to  set  off  all 
to  the  best  advantage,  for  this  is  to  keep  a  fresh,  cheery  house, 
the  delight  and  comfort  of  its  inmates;  but  let  her  never  for 
one  moment  consider  what  this  or  that  neighbor  will  think 
aboyt  his  or  her  little  republic  of  home.  If  they  praise  her, 
very  well;  if  they  criticise  and  sneer  at  her,  very  well  also;  she 
must  be  above  minding  it. 

I  think  both  husband  and  wife  ought  to  understand  thoroughly 
the  theory,  at  least,  of  good,  wholesome  cooking,  and  in  cases 
of  emergency  the  former  should  be  willing  to  lend  a  hand  to  an 
overworked  wife.  It  will  be  no  disparagement  to  his  manhood 
to  take  holtl  now  and  then,  jf  nothing  more  than  to  show  his 
entire  sympathy  with  her  and  tenderness  for  her;  but  a  good 
wife  and  a  good  housekeeper  will  not  tax  the  good  man  in  these 


238  THE  FAMILY. 

petty  household  matters.  On  the  contrary,  she  will  so  skillfully 
work  the  machinery  of  the  house  that  all  will  be  done,  and  be 
hardly  known  how  and  when.  She  will  not  belittle  him  and 
herself  by  too  much  talk  about  annoying  details. 

It  requires  great  skill  and  judgment  to  cook  well.  A  young 
housekeeper  must  do  nothing  without  exact  rule,  weight,  or 
measurement;  otherwise  she  will  make  innumerable  mistakes, 
and  create  much  disappointment  and  discomfort.  It  is  very  im- 
portant that  a  family  should  feed  well.  Health,  and  cheerful- 
ness, and  good  morals  are  all  more  or  less  involved  in.  the  wav 
our  tables  are  managed.  A  bright,  happy  wife  feels  a  delight 
in  serving  up  delicate  dishes  for  the  man  of  her  choice,  and  a 
grateful  look  or  an  appreciative  word  should  not  be  withholden 
by  him.  It  seems  utterly  piggish  to  see  a  man  sit  down  and 
devour  what  has  cost  care,  and  skill,  and  taste  to  prepare,  and 
never  one  word  of  approval  or  gratification.  It  is  the  way  of 
some  men,  and  a  most  boorish,  disagreeable  way  it  is. 

While  traveling  a  few  days  since  I  was  detained  some  time 
in  one  of  our  Western  cities.  My  room  overlooked  a  lane  or 
alley-way,  in  which  were  several  houses  occupied  by  the  better 
class  of  artisans,  and  I  became  much  interested  in  one  of  these, 
so  much  indeed  that  no  sooner  did  I  hear  a  glad  shout  from  a 
little  voice  than  I  knew^  it  was  meal-time  and  "daddy  was  com- 
ing," and  I  took  up  my  point  of  observation  in  harmless  and 
admiring  scrutiny  of  the  well-governed  house.  On  his  way  in 
the  father  raised  the  rejoicing  child  in  his  arms  and  gave  it  two 
or  three  resounding  smacks.  Another  one  had  crept  to  the 
door-sill,  and  this  was  lifted  also  and  its  little  cheek  laid  ten- 
derly upon  the  shoulder,  which  was  hunched  up  to  bring  it  close 
to  that  of  the  father's.  By  this  time  the  wife  had  brought  a 
bowl  of  water  and  a  white,  coarse  towel;  then  she  took  the 
children  down,  applying  also  sundry  pats,  now  on  the  shoulders 
of  the  little  ones,  and  now  on  the  broad,  fatherly  ones;  and  now 
the  chairs  were  placed  at  the  table,  and  while  the  husband  gave 
the  last  rub  to  the  hard,  rough  hands,  he  stretched  out  his  neck 
and  kissed  the  pretty,  girlish  wdfe  who  would  be  hovering  near 
him.  They  said  grace;  they  dined  at  the  plain,  wholesome 
board,  and  more  than  once  I  found  myself  wafting  them  a  ben- 
ediction with  theteai's  in  my  eyes.  It  is  so  brutish  to  pass 
without  a  word  of  recognition  of  the  Great  Giver! 


KEEPING  HOUSE  239 

The  husband  was  a  grave  man,  and  the  wife  a  lively,  cheery 
woman,  neat  as  a  new  pin,  and  very  chatty.  I  thought  them 
wonderfully  well  matched,  for  there  was  no  moroseness  about 
the  man  nor  levity  in  the  woman,  and  when  Sunday  came,  and 
the  little  household,  dressed  in  all  their  finery,  baby  and  all,  went 
out  to  church,  it  was  a  sight  to  behold!  Theirs  was  quite  a 
model  keeping  house  as  far  as  it  went. 

In  adjusting  the  household  I  would  have  the  pair  mutually 
helpful,  but  there  are  certain  affairs  that  look  handsomer  in  the 
hands  of  a  woman  than  a  man.  I  think  he,  as  a  gentleman  who 
should  be  independent  of  all  others,  ought  to  be  able  to  broil 
a  steak,  mend  a  rent,  or  "sew  on  a  button;"  but  it  is  more  suit- 
ably the  province  of  a  woman  to  do  these  things,  the  husband 
being  supposed  more  profitably  employed  otherwise. 

Every  woman  should  he  able  to  cut  and  make  household  linen 
and  garments  with  economy,  neatness,  and  dispatch.  She 
should  cut  her  work,  and  always  have  a  piece  ready  for  the 
needle  to  husband  her  time,  and  avoid  hurry  and  confusion.  And 
lastly,  my  lovely  married  pair  must  so  arrange  the  needful  work 
of  the  household  that  one  ho.ur  at  least  in  the  twenty -four  may 
be  devoted  to  reading  and  study — good,  solid,  substantial  books, 
to  be  read  with  care,  for  mutual  advancement  of  thought  and 
S9lidity  of  character;  poetry  and  romance  also,  to  elevate  and 
enlighten,  not  forgetting  the  great  store-house  of  our  spiritual 
ideas,  the  Bible. 

Human  beings  have  not  yet  reached  any  very  high  degree  of 
perfection.  Even  my  handsome  pair  may  fall  into  error,  and 
then  the  interference  of  outsiders  is  very  apt  to  increase  the 
evil;  but  let  them  settle  the  case  between  themselves,  remem- 
bering that  the  greater  the  fall  the  greater  the  need  of  a  dear, 
loving  hand  to  lift  us  up,  and  the  worse  we  may  become  the 
more  we  shall  need  friends.  No  true  wife  will  turn  from  the 
man  of  her  choice  in  the  day  of  his  adversity,  nor  in  the  day  of 
his  moral  darkness;  rather  will  she  love  him  with  a  deeper,  be- 
cause of  a  sorrowing,  tenderness;  and  she  will  lead  him  on,  step 
by  step,  till  he  more  than  recovers  the  ground  he  may  have  lost. 

Many  a  strong  character  was  only  pulp  to  begin  with,  and 
but  for  a  providential  piessure  upon  it  would  have  remained 
pulp  until  this  day. 


^40  THE  FAMILY. 

r^BAI^TH   AND    P^OME. 

Out  of  the  noise  and  out  of  the  strife, 

To  the  hearth  so  calm  and  bright, 
The  men  come  home  to  women  who  wait 

In  the  fireside's  happy  hght. 
For  hearth  and  home  is  the  dearest  place 

To  men  and  women  who  love; 
And  when  peace  is  there,  a  blessing  floats 

From  our  Father's  home  above. 

The  tender  kiss  and  the  baby's  coo 

Then  gladden  the  tired  heart; 
The  care  and  glare  of  the  busy  day. 

Like  wearisome  dreams,  depart. 
The  soul's  joy  shines  in  the  loving  smile 

That  welcomes  the  dear  one  home; 
Wife's  world  is  in  its  sheltering  walls, 

In  cot  or  'neath  palace  dome. 

O  God  of  love,  guard  over  such  homes, 

All  over  our  beautiful  land ! 
Let  quiet  hearths  life's  guidance  be 

To  mansions  not  made  with  hands. 
For  hearth  and  home  is  the  dearest  place 

To  men  and  women  who  love; 
And  when  peace  is  there,  a  blessing  floats 

From  our  Father's  home  above. 

Good  rjULEs. 

The  following  roles  are  commonplace  enough,  but  we  can 
assure  our  readers  that  if  they  will  observe  every  one  of  the 
rules  they  will  be  any  thing  but  commonplace  men  and  women: 

Don't  stop  to  tell  stories  in  business  hours. 

Do  not  meddle  with  business  you  know  nothing  of. 

Have  order,  system,  regularity,  and  also  promptness. 

No  man  can  get  rich  sitting  around  stores  and  saloons. 

A  man  of  honor  respects  his  word  as  he  does  his  bond. 

If  you  have  a  place  of  business,  be  found  there  when  wanted. 

Help  others,  but  never' give  what  you  cannot  afford  to,  sim- 
ply because  it  is  fashionable  to  give.     Pay  as  you  go. 


mn  FOR  THE  HOUSEHOLD. 

^  Beautiful  F^omb. 


BY  W.  W.  BREESE. 


E  are  told  that  the  French  have  no  word 
in  their  language  corresponding  to  that 
of  home!  A  French  family  occupy 
^'^  "apartments,"  and  exhibit  little  of  that 
devotion  to  the  old  homestead  that  is  so  common 
with  an  English  or '  American  family.  We  never 
hear  of  yearly  gatherings,  as  at  Thanksgiving  time 
or  Christmas,  in  that  country.  While  the  Anglo- 
Saxon  fights  for  his  fireside  and  his  loved  ones,  a 
Frenchman  fights  for  glory! 

But  among  the  various  classes  of  our  American 
people,  what  a  variety  of  definitions  we  should  have 
of  the  phrase  which  heads  our  article!  One  would 
say  that  a  beautiful  home  consisted  of  a  stately  man- 
sion, costly  furniture,  paintings,  and  all  that  wealth 
in  profusion  could  buy.  Another  would  say  that  a  cot- 
tage embowered  in  roses,  shrubbery,  and  overlooking 
a  pleasing  landscape,  made  a  beautiful  home. 

But  we  think  the  larger  class  of  people  have  an 
abiding  faith  in  that  homely  old  proverb,   "Beauty  is  . 
16  (241) 


242  HINTS  FOR  THE  HOUSEHOLD. 

that  beauty  does:"  and  if  we  would  be  called  beauti- 
ful we  must  perform  beautiful  acts.  Hence  a  beauti- 
ful home  depends  on  those  ^\^ho  dwell  there  more 
than  on  the  money  that  the  owner  may  be  able  to 
spend  on  his  dwelling ;  also  it  depends  more  on  the 
tasteful  arrangement  and  use  of  the  means  at  com- 
mand than  on  the  natural  advantages  possessed. 

We  wish  to  give  you  a  few  thoughts,  gentle  reader, 
as  to  how  you  ma}^  make  your  home  more  beautiful_, 
whether  you  are  the  head  of  the  household,  or  only 
one  of  its  most  humble  inmates.  The  power  to 
transform  a  dull,  cheerless  household  into  one  of  a 
cheerful,  happy  character  is  possessed  by  every  hu- 
man being  to  a  greater  or  less  degree;  and  this  power 
may  be  used  and  improved  by  careful  study  just  as 
surely  as  the  power  to  read  or  the  power  to  work 
may  be  developed  by  constant  exercise.  Do  not, 
therefore,  excuse  yourself  by  saying,  "O  pshaw!  it's 
too  much  trouble!"  Learn  the  wonderful  measure 
of  happiness  to  be  found  in  just  such  troublesome, 
painstaking  work.  If  you  are  selfishly  seeking  pleas- 
ure, here  is  the  largest  measure  attainable.  If  you 
really  love  others  about  you,  and  wish  to  make  them 
happy,  this  is  the  shortest  road  to  that  result. 

JSeaufy  Indoors.  One  of  the  most  ancient  and 
common  modes  of  decoration  is  the  painted  picture. 
These  need  not  be  costly  oil-paintings.  Good  taste 
in  making  selections  v^^ill  easily  make  a  collection  of 
cheap  pictures  far  more  attractive  to  the  average 
human  being  than  a  promiscuous  lot  of  high-priced 
paintings.  You  cannot  only  use  those  pictures  al- 
ready colored,  but  will  often  find  full-page  wood-cuts 
which  can  be  neatly  colored  with  cheap  water-colors. 


A  BEAUTIFUL  HOME.  243 

and  make  very  handsome  ornaments  for  the  room 
\vhen  neatly  framed  and  hung  on  the  wall.  Mottoes, 
bright -colored  fans,  a  collection  of  bright -colored 
lithographs  or  advertising  cards,  a  few  really  nice 
chromos,  etc.,  all  help  to  make  a  room  look  bright 
and  cheerful.  Be  careful  not  to  hang  your  pictures 
too  high,  unless  the  features  are  very  large,  so  as  to 
"be  easily  seen  across  the  room.  A  picture  should  be 
iust  a  little  higher  than  your  head,  so  you  can  easily 
see  it  when  standing  in  front  of  it. 

In  addition  to  pictures  for  the  wall,  a  few  neat  little 
ornaments,  or  picture  cards,  may  be  hung  in  the  win- 
dows— to  be  seen  from  the  outside.  A  hanging- 
basket,  made  out  of  a  cocoanut  shell,  can  be  made 
a  very  attractive  ornament  for  the  window.  Flower- 
pots on  a  shelf,  attached  to  the  window-sill,  either 
outside  or  inside  the  window,  or  both,  may  be  made 
very  beautiful.  Geraniums  and  pinks,  as  well  as 
hyacinths,  are  easily  grown  in  the  house.  Do  not 
try  roses.  They  will  disappoint  you,  unless  you  have 
had  considerable  experience  with  plants.  A  beautiful 
collection  in  one  corner  of  your  hall  or  porch,  called 
a  "  Rockery,"  of  bright-colored  gravel,  flint,  curiously 
shaped  rock,  coral,  moss,  and  curiosities  of  all  kinds, 
such  as  any  -one  can  easily  gather,  will  add  very  much 
to  the  attractiveness  of  your  home.  Collections  of 
grasses,  dried  leaves,  ferns,  curious  insects,  may  all 
be  made  and  prettily  arranged,  so  as  to  show  to  a 
visitor  and  give  great  pleasure.  Paper  fringes,  made 
of  various  bright-colored  papers,  costing  only  a  few 
cents  for  a  large  assortment,  can  be  made  for  the 
mantel  and  book-shelves.  Tissue-paper  ornaments 
and  flowers,  with  pretty  vases,  for  the  mantel-piece; 


244  HINTS  FOR  THE  HOUSEHOLD. 

a  ''^what-not"  for  the  corner  of  the  room,  with  the 
children's  and  other  toys  and  trinkets  laid  on  its 
shelves;  paper  racks  and  brackets  for  the  walls; 
ornamented  cases  for  the  broom-brush  or  clothes- 
brush — all  suggest  themselves,  and  can  be  multiplied 
to  an  almost  endless  variety  by  a  Httle  ingenuity.    • 

The  limits  of  this  article  prevent  our  dwelling  on 
the  subjects  of  "Beautiful  Characters  in  the  Home," 
"  Beauty  Around  the  Home,"  and  others,  which  be- 
long to  the  consideration  of  what  is  necessary  to 
make  "A  Beautiful  Home."  But  if  you  really  desire 
a  home  that  shall  be  attractive  to  your  neighbors, 
your  children,  and  your  own  selves,  you  can  easily 
make  it,  although  you  may  have  little  education  and 
less  money.  A  great  deal  of  money  is  carelessly 
spent  and  thrown  away  by  so  doing,  which  could 
easily  be  made  to  contribute  to  the  comfort  and  hap- 
piness of  every  member  of  the  family  if  only  wisely 
invested  in  something  of  permanent  value. 

But  if  you  are  now  resolved  to  '"'  turn  over  a  new 
leaf"  in  this  matter,  do  not  go  into  it  deeply  at  first. 
Think  over  it  a  long  time;  study  your  subject  well; 
buy  a  few  things,  and  make  a  few  things  this  week; 
decide  on  others  for  next  week;  and  thus  gradually 
improve,  collect,  and  arrange,  and  you  will  be  less 
apt  to  get  tired  of  it  and  undertake  a  good  many 
useless  and  burdensome  tasks.  Above  all,  do  not 
forget  to  plant  some  flowers  around  your  house,  and 
if  you  can  have  but  a  few,  and  give  but  little  time  to 
their  care,  take  the  ones  easiest  raised — such  as  holly- 
hocks, four-o'clocks,  marigolds,  verbenas,  dahlias,  etc. 
It  is  greatly  to  be  regretted  that  more  homes  are  not 
blessed  with  fine  gardens.     Nothing  can  add  more  to 


HOW  TO  BEAUTIFY  A  HOME.  245 

the  health  of  a  family,  as  well  as  its  comfort,  than  a 
productive  and  well-kept  garden,  a  part  of  which 
may  be  devoted  to  flowers. 

I70W  TO  Beautipy  a  ^OMB. 

To  make  a  home  beautiful  is  much  easier  said  than  done. 
We  think,  perhaps,  if  we  had  money  we  could  do  it;  but  no, 
money  does  not  buy  all  we  need  to  make  our  home  happy,  and 
to  be  happy  is  to  be  beautiful. 

Pleasant  intercourse  with  the  members  of  the  family,  a  good 
book  read  aloud,  a  song  or  chorus  that  all  can  join  in,  will  afford 
.a  very  cheap  means  of  making  happiness  for  one  evening. 
These  can  be  varied  so  as  to  be  attractive  many  other  even- 
ings. 

A  pictuA  or  engraving  neatly  framed,  a  flower  growing  in 
the  window,  the  furniture  nicely  arranged  with  an  eye  to  com- 
fort— these  tend  to  make  home  beautiful. 

Comfort  is  a  homely  word,  but  it  means  a  great  deal.  I  often 
think  that  is  what  makes  beauty  in  the  home.  What  young 
man  who  is  smitten  with  some  young  lady  would  rather  meet 
her  in  full-dress  at  a  stately  party  at  the  dazzling  mansion-house 
of  the  senator,  or  other  magnate,  where  every  thing  is  done  in 
the  most  ceremonious  manner?  or  would  he  prefer  to  call  and 
spend  a  pleasant  evening  in  the  family  sitting-room,  where 
every  thing  is  bright  and  cheerful,  where  he  is  welcome  and 
made  to  feel  so  by  every  member  of  the  famih,  and  where 
papa  and  mamma  judiciously  retire  and  leave  the  young  folks 
to  their  meditations? 

To  make  home  truly  beautiful  every  member  of  the  family 
must  contribute  their  mite,  not  only  in  ornaments,  but  in  work 
and  study.  Let  the  boys  and-  girls  do  their  full  share  to  help 
father  and  mother;  ease  their  labors;  and  let  father  and  mother 
help  and  guide  the  children. 

Our  struggles  for  riches  make  us  callous  and  hard-hearted. 
We  forget  the  dear  ones  at  home,  how  they  have  worked  and 
■waited  for  the  evening  hour  when  the  loved  ones  will  return, 
and  often  the  joy  and  pleasure  is  blighted  by  the  look  or  gest- 
ure before  one  word  is  spoken.  Let  those  who  leave  business 
full  of  care  and  trouble  throw  it  off,  and  meet  the  loved  ones 


246  HINTS  FOR  THE  HOUSEHOLD. 

in  a  way  that  will  make  them  believe  that  you  are  as  glad  to 
get  home  as  they  are  to  have  you  come. 

Almost  everybody  knows  what  a  relief  to  the  eyes  a  little 
spray  of  green  is  in  the  winter.  The  wealthy  can  indulge  in 
expensive  conservatories,  but  those  in  moderate  circumstances, 
and  even  the  very  poor,  can  secure  a  pretty  object  at  a  small 
expense  by  following  the  directions  given.  To  begin  with,  an 
acorn,  which  any  little  urchin  can  procure  in  the  woods,  and  a 
pickle  jar,  which  any  housekeeper  can  supply.  Procure  a  fine, 
healthy  acorn,  and  crochet  around  it  a  little  net-work  case.  Take 
off  the  cup  first,  and  leave  a  loop  of  the  cotton  to  hang  the 
acorn  point  downward  in  the  glass.  The  glass  must  have  so 
much  water  in  it  that  the  tip  of  the  acorn  scarcely  touches; 
keep  it  in  a  dark  closet  until  it  has  sprouted,  and  then  put  it  in 
the  light.  A  chestnut  thus  kept  in  water  will  sprout  in  the 
same  way.  A  sweet  potato  will  grow  luxuriantly,  ^id  may  be 
trained  around  walls  and  picture-frames.  A  carrot  grown  in 
sand  is,  if  well  managed,  a  highly  ornamental  object.  A  good- 
sized  and  healthy  root  must  be  selected.  Cut  off  quite  evenly 
the  top  of  a  carrot,  and  place  it  on  the  top  of  a  pot  full  of  sand, 
so  that  the  leaves  look  as  if  they  sprang  from  it.  Moisten  it 
well  and  keep  it  in  the  dark  until  it  has  begun  to  sprout;  be 
careful  to  keep  it  damp,  and  move  into  the  light  directly  the 
leaves  appear.  If  the  cultivation  is  successful,  an  ornament 
pretty  enough  for  any  room  will  be  the  result,  and  which  will 
have  to  the  unacquainted  the  appearance  of  a  pot  of  ferns. 
Another  experiment  may  be  made  wuth  a  turnip,  which  must 
be  as  sound  as  possible.  Clean  the  outside,  taking  care  not  to 
injure  the  part  from  whence  the  leaves  spring.  Cut  a  piece  off 
the  bottom  and  scoop  out  the  inside,  so  that  you  have  a  hollow 
cup;  fasten  string  or  wire  to  it  so  that  it  can  be  hung  up.  Fill 
the  cavity,  and  keep  it  filled,  with  water.  In  a  short  time  the 
leaves  will  begin  to  sprout,  and  will  curl  up  round  the  ball  of 
the  turnip,  forming  a  pretty  little  hanging  basket.  Children 
can  be  made  to  interest  themselves  in  such  experiments,  which 
will  be  found  an  easy  method  of  inculcating  taste  and  refine- 
ment; besides,  each  and  all  point  out  their  own  botanical  lesson, 
and  much  is  to  be  learned  by  careful  and  patient  observatior» 
and  experiment. 


philosophy  of  cooking.  247 

Philosophy  op  ^ooi^ing. 

The  object  of  all  cooking  is  to  bring  about  the  chemical 
changes  in  the  articles  of  food  which  nature  every-where  pro- 
duces in  vegetable  and  animal  substances  when  exposed  to  the 
influence  of  heat.  Baking,  frying,  boiling,  or  roasting  are  only 
so  many  diflferent  methods  of  applying  heat.  The  commonest, 
the  most  convenient,  the  cheapest  and  quickest  of  these  meth- 
ods is  frying,which  can  be  applied  to  almost  all  articles  of  food, 
which  rcquives  the  least  apparatus  and  the  smallest  fire;  yet  of 
all  methods  it  is  the  one  least  understood,  the  one  which  de- 
stroys the  most  food,  and  is  the  cause  of  more  indigestion  and 
dyspepsia  than  all  the  other  methods  combined.  The  reason  of 
this  is  that  in  many  substances  the  admixture  of  fat  prevents 
the  chemical  processes  of  cooking  from  having  their  proper  de- 
velopment. The  perfection  of  frying  would  be  to  have  the 
food  fried  without  coming  into  contact  with  the  fat  at  all.  But 
as  this  is,  of  course,  a  self-evident  impossibility,  the  next  best 
thing  is  to  have  the  food  come  into  contact  with  the  fat  as  little 
as  possible.  This  is  accomplished  simply  by  having  the  fat  hot. 
Grease  of  any  description  is  capable  of  being  heated  to  a  very 
much  higher  temperature  than  water — in  fact,  it  can  be  made 
almost  three  times  as  hot  as  boiling  water.  When  fat  is  at  its 
boiling  point  it  is  so  very  hot  that  any  article  of  food  brought 
into  contact  with  it  actually  burns,  and  this  is  precisely  the  rea- 
son why,  for  purposes  of  frying,  fat  should  always  be  boiling 
hot.  For  any  article  of  food — a  doughnut,  for  example — dipped 
into  the  boiling  fat,  is  immediately  covered  all  over  with  a  thin 
crust  of  burnt  doughnut,  which  prevents  the  fat  from  penetrat- 
ing further  in,  and  enables  the  rest  of  the  doughnut  to  be  ex- 
posed to  a  greater  degree  of  heat  than  can  be  applied  by  any 
other  process,  without  coming  in  contact  with  the  fat,  and  the 
natural  chemical  processes  go  on  inside  with  a  greater  vivacity 
and  to  a  greater  degree  of  perfection  than  can  be  obtained  by 
any  other  method.  Perfect  frying  is  the  perfection  of  cooking, 
but  so  soon  as  the  fat  is  not  sufficiently  hot  to  create  the  burnt 
crust  around  the  article  fried,  then  the  fat  penetrates  it  and  ab- 
solutely prevents  cooking  from  taking  place  at  all.  If  the  fat 
is  not  boiling,  bubbling  hot,  the  process  that  takes  place  is  not 
cooking,  but  simply  drenching  the  food  with  a  tepid  fat,  and 


248  HINTS  FOR  THE  HOUSEHOLD.. 

rendering  it  totally  indigestible.  It  make's  no  difference  how 
hot  the  fat  is  made  aftei'ward,  the  mischief  is  done  the  moment 
the  fat  penetrates  inside.  All  perfectly  fried  food  has  a  thin, 
crisp,  brown  outside  crust,  which  has  in  itself  a  pleasant,  rel- 
ishing taste,  and  is  free  from  even  the  suspicion  of  fat  inside, 
except  what  was  intentionally  put  there  by  the  cook.  All 
housekeepers  know  that  to  fry  well  their  fat  should  be  hot. 
But  they  do  not  attend  to  it  half  as  scrupulously  as  they  would 
if  they  understood  the  true  philosophy  of  it.  Boiling,  bubbling, 
hot  fat  cannot  peneti"ate  any  thing,  and  cooks  to  perfection; 
tepid  fat  penetrates  every-where,  and  does  not  cook  at  all,  but 
actually  prevents  cooking.  Any  housekeeper  who  reads  this, 
and  chooses  to  profit  by  it,  need  never  put  any  greasy,  dried, 
half-cooked,  and  indigestible  food  upon  her  table.  The  whole 
secret  consists  in  having  the  fat  boiling  hot  before  the  things  are 
put  in.  There  is  one  other  condition  which  follows  naturally 
from  this  first  one,  but  which  is  almost  invariably  lost  sight  of 
even  by  good  cooks,  and  that  is  that  the  fat  should  entirely  cover 
the  article  to  be  fried.  The  reason  of  this  is  that  the  part  not 
at  once  covered  by  the  fat  remains  cold,  cools  off*  the  fat  near 
it,  and  then  absorbs  the  tepid  fat  just  the  same  as  if  it  had  never 
been  hot.  Frying-pans  should  be  deep,  well  filled,  and  heated 
to  the  boiling  point,  and  then  it  is  easy  to  turn  out  fried  food 
crisp,  brown,  and  dry  on  the  outside,  and  perfectly  soft,  moist, 
and  well-cooked  within.  It  is  a  peculiarity  of  the  outside  crust 
of  things  fried  in  boiling  fat  that  the  fat  itself  drops  oft'  from 
it  as  readily  -as  water;  hence,  well-fried  articles  are  neither 
greasy  in  appearance  nor  very  greasy  in  reality.  Frying  ought 
to  be  as  easy  as  boiling. 

€60N0MY   IN    THE    FAMILY. 

•  There  is  nothing  which  goes  so  far  toward  placing  young 
people  beyond  the  reach  of  poverty  as  economy  in  the  manage- 
ment of  household  affairs.  It  matters  not  whether  a  man  fur- 
nishes little  or  much  for  his  family,  if  there  is  a  continual  leak- 
age in  his  kitchen  or  parlor;  it  runs  away  he  knows  not  how, 
and  that  demon,  waste,  cries  "more!"  like  the  horse-leech's 
daughter,  until  he  that  provides  has  no  more  to  give. 

It  is  the  husband's  duty  to  bring  into  the  house,  and  it  is  the 


ECONOMY  IN  THE  FAMIL  Y.  249 

duty  of  the  wife  to  see  that  nothing  goes  wrotigfiiUy  out  of  it. 
The  husband's  interest  should  be  the  wife's  care,  and  her  great- 
est ambition  to  further  his  welfare  or  happiness  together  with 
that  of  her  children.  This  should  be  her  chief  aim,  and  the 
theater  of  her  exploits  the  bosom  of  her  family,  where  she  may 
<lo  as  much  toward  making  a  fortune  as  he  can  in  the  counting- 
room  or  workshop. 

It  is  not  the  money  earned  that  makes  a  man  wealthy — it  is 
what  he  saves  from  his  earnings.  Self-gratification  in  dress,  or 
indulgence  in  appetite,  or  more  company  than  his  purse  can 
well  entertain,  are  equally  pernicious.  The  first  adds  vanity  to 
extravagance,  the  second  fastens  a  doctor's  bill  to  a  long  butch- 
er's account,  and  the  latter  brings  intemperance — the  worst  of 
all  evils — in  its  train. 

A  man  must  ask  his  wife's  permission,  if  he  wishes  to  become 
rich.  He  must  have  his  wife's  aid,  if  he  is  to  practice  those 
economies  in  the  family  which  may  lay  the  foundation  of  his 
subsequent  wealth.  The  New  York  Christian  Advocate  makes 
the  following  suggestions  to  young  men  with  families  to  sup- 
port: 

A  hundred  dollars  a  year  saved  in  rent  is  worth  the  trouble, 
and  may  become  the  foundation  of  comfort  at  a  time  when  it  is 
needed. 

He  who  saves  one  hundred  dollars  a  year  on  his  rent  is  sim- 
ply being  paid  that  much  for  the. little  inconveniences  he  may 
have  to  endure. 

Solid  and  plain  furniture,  with  the  ornaments  such  as  a  wife's 
taste  can  make  with  a  very  little  expense,  should  be  obtained  in 
distinction  from  lumbering  up  the  house  with  expensive  articles. 

Every  article  of  furniture  that  is  not  necessary  in  a  room  di- 
minishes its  size  and  air  capacity,  and  collects  dust  and  makes 
work. 

Economy  can  be  practiced  upon  the  table,  by  the  co-operation 
of  husband  and  wife,  so  as  to  make  a  difference  of  one-half  in 
the  expenses. 

Dainties,  preserves,  fruits  in  advance  of  the  season,  too  much 
meat,  excess  and  profusion  of  all  kinds,  take  money.     , 

Being  in  the  habit,  some  years  since,  of  visiting  a  young  fam- 
ily whose  table  always  had  every  thing  that  was  needful,  "and 
nothing  more,  but  with  freshness  and  suflScient  variety,  and 


250  HINTS  FOR  THE  HOUSESOLD. 

knowing  that  the  young  man  had  a  very  small  income,  I  asked 
him  what  his  table  expenses  per  annum  amounted  to. 

Said  he,  "  Guess.'"  I  put  them  at  seven  hundred  dollars, 
which  I  thought  very  low  for  the  city  in  which  he  lived,  and 
the  way  in  which  he  appeared  to  live. 

His  reply  was,  "Last  year  my  expenses  were  four  hundred 
and  eighty  dollars  for  the  table." 

"How  do  you  do  it?"  said  I. 

He  replied,  "My  wife  and  I  apply  the  same  thought  and 
study  to  our  purchases  for  the  table  that  a  business  man  applies 
to  the  purchase  of  the  goods  that  he  deals  in  and  expects  to 
make  a  living  from." 

This  illustration  is  drawn  from  the  life  of  a  man  whose  in- 
come was  perhaps  one  thousand  eight  hundred  dollars  per  year, 
and  who  lived  in  a  quite  expensive  part  of  a  large  city. 

The  same  principle  can  be  applied  whether  the  income  be 
more  or  less. 

Presents  and  extras  need  to  be  narrowly  watched.  Super- 
fluous gifts  to  children,  expenditures  for  candy,  and  for  trips 
that  do  not  give  pleasure  in  jDroportion  to  their  cost,  are  leaks 
which  keep  many  well-meaning  families  poor. 

She  Family  Sable. 

Of  all  the  familiar  features  of  the  family  there  is  none  that 
possesses  a  greater  interest,  or  a  greater  capacity  of  contributing 
to  the  household  happiness,  than  the  table.  It  is  the  prime 
unifier,  the  first  and  chief  promoter  of  that  unity  which  makes 
the  family  the  integer  of  all  human  organizations.  It  wields  a 
more  than  patriarchal  authority.  The  father's  commands  may 
be  forgotten,  the  mother's  wishes  thoughtlessly  disregarded; 
but  the  unuttered  invitation  of  the  family  board,  with  its  white 
cloth,  is  a  power  which  is  never  resisted  or  slighted. 

The  members  of  the  family  may  be  scattered  in  different 
places — some  at  the  counting-house,  some  at  the  workshop, 
some  in  the  field,  some  in  the  forest,  in  pursuit  of  pleasure,  or 
the  prosecution  of  duty.  The  magic  of  the  white  cloth  reaches 
them  wherever  they  are,  and  its  mute  invitation  summons  them 
all  home.  And  even  when  the  family  is  shattered  to  fragments 
and  scattered  over  the  earth,  when  each  departing  member  has 


THE  FAMILY  TABLE.  261 

become  the  head  of  a  different  family,  that  sweet,  unforgottcn 
picture  of  a  white  cloth  and  tea-urn  will  still  assert  its  power, 
and  gather  the  wanderers  from  the  distant  lands  to  joyous 
thanksgivings  under  the  old  roof-tree. 

The  family  board  should  be  honored,  of  all,  with  joy,  peace, 
and  love.  It  is  a  shrine  where  churlishness,  coldness,  silence, 
and  frowns  should  have  no  place.  It  may  be  made  thrice  a  day 
the  scene  of  a  festival  richer  and  rarer  than  picnics  in  wooded 
groves,  or  sumptuous  feasts  in  gilded  saloons.  Its  offerings 
may  be  frugal  and  humble — but  no  matter;  better  is  its  dinner 
of  herbs,  flavored  with  love  and  spiced  with  cheerful  vivacity, 
than  the  rich  courses  of  a  grand  hotel,  where  strange  hundreds 
swallow  and  gulp  amid  the  clatter  of  dishes,  regardless  of  each 
other's  comfort,  and  careless  even  of  each  others  presence; 
or  the  weary  and  monotonous  meals  of  the  boarding-house, 
where  people  know  each  other  too  well  to  be  entirely  reserved 
and  too  little  to  be  familiar. 

Each  assemblage  around  the  family-table  has  its  peculiar 
charm,  and  each  may  be  made  a  feast.  The  table  is  no  place 
for  stiff  dignity  or  austerity.  Biting  bread  and  butter,  and  tak- 
ing soup  from  a  spoon,  may  be  done  gracefully  and  pleasantly, 
but  to  infuse  dignity  and  stiffness  into  the  operation  is  inexcus- 
ably ridiculous.  Hunger  is  a  leveler,  and  eating  and  drinking 
is  one  of  the  most  delightful  of  pleasures. 

No  one  has  a  right  to  disguise  the  innocent  satisfaction  of  it 
at  the  family  board  by  the  affectation  of  an  exej^ption  from  so 
human  a  weakness  as  an  appetite  or  disdain  of  the  viands  set 
before  him.  The  pleasantest  family  pictures  are  those  cheerful 
dining-room  assemblages  where  father,  mother,  brothers,  and 
sisters  eat  and  drink  cheerily,  as  though  it  did  them  good,  and 
cloth,  urn,  dishes,  and  spoons  seem  happy  in  the  general  joy. 

The  attempts  to  introduce  too  much  color  in  dinner-table 
decorations  are  declining.  The  finest  white  damask  still  holds 
the  preference,  and  the  center-piece  of  plush  or  velvet  under 
lace  is  little  used  now.  Fewer  flowers,  too,  are  seen,  and  those 
in  low  forms.  The  latest  fashion  in  ice-cream  plates  is  the  Bohe- 
mian glass,  in  oval  form,  with  small  handles.  Menu  cards,  hand- 
painted,  are  preferred,  but  many  are  seen  on  tinted  cardboard, 
with  engraved  vignette  in  one  corner  and  the  date  in  the  other. 


252  HINTS  FOR  THE  HO  USEHOLD. 

©ABIiB    ^OLIJPBNBSS. 

?Then,  there  are  some  things  which  good  manners  render 
necessary,  but  about  which  every  one  is  not  informed.  Of 
course  you  know  that  you  are  not  to  eat  with  your  knife.  Fifty 
years  ago  people  frequently  ate  with  their  knives,  and  it  is  quite 
possible  that  now  and  then  you  may  see  some  old-fashioned 
person  doing  so;  but  it  is  not  customary  now,  nor  is  it  safe  or 
convenient.  When  your  plate  is  about  to  be  removed,  you 
should  leave  your  knife  and  fork  side  by  side  upon  it. 

It  is  not  polite  to  help  yourself  too  generously  to  butter.  Salt 
should  be  placed  on  the  edge  of  the  plate,  never  on  the  table- 
cloth. Do  not  drink  with  a  spoon  in  the  cup,  and  never  drain 
the  very  last  drop.  Bread  should  be  buttered  on  the  plate,  and 
cut  a  bit  at  a  time,  and  eaten  in  that  way.  Eating  should  go  on 
quietly,  and  not  hastily.  Nothing  is  worse  than  to  make  a  noise 
with  the  mouth  while  eating,  and  to  swallow  food  with  notice- 
able gulps.  Do  not  think  about  yourself,  and  fancy  that  you 
are  the  object  of  attraction  to  your  neighbors. 

©ABLE    (iONYEI^SAJItlON. 

Instead  of  swallowing  your  food  in  sullen  silence,  or  brood- 
ing over  your  business,  or  severely  talking  about  others,  let  the 
conversation  at  the  table  be  genial,  kind,  social,  and  cheering. 
Don't  bring  any  disagreeable  subject  to  the  table  in  your  con- 
versation, any  «nore  than  you  would  in  your  dishes.  Avoid 
scandalizing  people,  and  never  cherish  a  jubilant  feeling  over 
the  infirmities  or  misfortunes  of  others.  The  more  good  com- 
pany you  have  at  your  table  the  better.  Hence  the  intelligence, 
refinement,  and  appi-opriate  behavior  of  a  family  given  to  hos- 
pitality. Never  feel  that  intelligent  visitors  can  be  any  thing 
but  a  blessing  to  you  and  yours. 

Flowei^s  on  the  ©able. 

Put  a  nice  bouquet  on  the  table  each  morning  before  you  sit 
down  to  breakfast.  In  place  of  this  put  a  pretty  little  "button- 
hole" bouquet  at  the  plate  of  each  member  of  the  family. 
When  you  are  out  walking  in  the  afternoon,  gather  a  bunch  of 
wild  flowers  for  the  supper-table,  or  to  place  in  the  evening 
sittinsr-room. 


hotplates.  .  263 

Washing-Day. 

Washing-day! 

Things  in  the  way — 

There  they  lay 

Like  a  pile  of  hay! 
Calico  dresses  and  dirty  clothes 
Give  to  man  his  many  woes. 
Cold  potatoes!  warmed-up  dinner! 
Every  wash-day  I  grow  thinner! 

Cook  in  a  scold; 

Meat  that  is  cold; 

Bread  that  is  old; 

And  every  thing  cold 
Except  the  warm  weather! 

The  starch  and  the  soap; 

The  clothes-line  a  rope. 

It's  no  wonder  I  mope— ^ 

Adieu  to  all  hope — 
When  things  are  &o  promiscuously  mixed  up  together! 

The  soda  and  blue, 

Old  things  and  the  new — 

Come,  tell  me  how  you 

In  this  matter  would  do? 

A  cup  of  cold  tea 

Will  do  well  for  me, 

As  I  plainly  can  see 

That  wash-day  must  be. 
Dirty  shirts  and  dirty  hose 
Is  to  man  the  woe  of  woes. 
Will  dirt  never  cease  to  go  with  clothes? 
None  can  tell,  for  no  one  knows! 

Y}om  Slates. 

Few  people  who  have  never  tried  it  can  realize  the  comfort 
to  be  obtained  by  the  use  of  hot  plates  in  cold  weather.  Just 
before  sitting  down  to  the  table  set  the  pile  of  plates  you  are  to 
eat  from  into  the  hot  oven,  and  be  careful  they  are  not  allowed 
to  get  too  hot.  Warm  gravy  and  other  food  is  a  cheap  luxury 
which  hot  plates  will  afford. 


254  hints  for  the  ho  usehold. 

Useful  Faints 

In  icing  cakes,  dip  the  knife  frequently  into  cold  water. 

Clean  oil-cloths  with  milk  and  water;  a  brush  and  soap  will 
ruin  them. 

Tumblers  that  have  had  milk  in  them  should  never  be  put  in 
hot  water. 

A  small  piece  of  charcoal  in  the  pot  with  boiling  cabbage  re- 
moves the  smell. 

If  your  coal-fire  is  low,  throw  on  a  tablespoonful  of  salt  and 
it  will  help  it  very  much. 

A  spoonful  of  stewed  tomatoes  in  the  gravy  of  either  roasted 
or  fried  meats  is  an  improvement. 

In  boiling  meat  for  soup,  use  cold  water  to  extract  the  juices. 
If  the  meat  is  wanted  for  itself  alone,  plunge  it  into  boiling 
water  at  once. 

You  can  get  a  bottle  or  barrel  of  oil  off  any  carpet  or  woolen 
stuff  by  applying  dry  buckwheat  j^lentifully  and  faithfullv. 
Never  put  water  to  such  a  grease  spot,  or  liquid  of  any  kind. 

Broil  steak  without  salting.  Salt'draws  the  juices  in  cook- 
ing; it  is  desirable  to  keep  these  in  if  possible.  Cook  over  a 
hot  fire,  turning  frequently,  searing  on  both  sides.  Place  on  a 
platter;  salt  and  pepper  to  taste. 

Beef  having  a  tendency  to  be  tough  can  be  made  very  pala- 
table by  stewing  gently  for  two  hours,  pepper  and  salt,  taking 
out  about  a  pint  of  the  liquid  when  half-done,  and  letting  the 
rest  boil  into  the  meat.  Brown  the  meat  in  the  pot.  After 
taking  up,  make  a  gravy  of  the  pint  of  liquid  saved. 

Things  Done. 

Teapots  are  melted  by  the  stove. 
Cream  is  allowed  to  mold  and  spoil. 
Silver  spoons  are  used  to  scrape  kettles. 
The  scrubbing-brush  is  left  in  the  water. 
Bones  are  burned  that  would  make  soup. 
Nice-handled  knives  are  thrown  into  hot  water. 
Brooms  are  never  hung  up,  and  soon  are  spoiled. 
Dish-cloths  are  thrown  where  mice  can  destroy  them. 
Tubs  and  barrels  are  left  in  the  sun  to  dry  and  fall  apart. 
Clothes  are  left  on  the  line  to  whip  to  pieces  in  the  wind. 


KEEP  THE  HOUSE  GLEAN.  255 

Pie-crust  is  laid  by  to  sour,  instead  of  makinfj  tarts  for  tea. 

Vegetables  are  thrown  away  that  warm  for  breakfast  nicely. 

Dried  fruit  is  not  taken  care  of  in  season,  and  becomes  wormy. 

Carpets  are  swept  with  stubs  hardly  fit  to  scrub  the  kitchen. 

Bits  of  meat  are  thrown  out  which  would  make  hashed  meat 
or  hash. 

Pork  spoils  for  want  of  salt,  and  beef  because  the  brine  needs 
scalding. 

Water  is  forgotten  and  left  in  pitchers,  and  allowed  to  freeze 
in  winter. 

The  cork  is  left  out  of  the  molasses  jug,  and  the  flies  take 
possession. 

Coffee,  tea,  pepper,  and  spices  are  left  to  stand  open  and  lose 
their  strength. 

Potatoes  in  the  cellar  grow,  and  the  sprouts  are  not  removed 
until  they  become  worthless. 

The  flour  is  sifted  in  a  wasteful  manner,  and  the  bread-pan 
left  with  the  dough  sticking  to  it. 

Vinegar  is  drawn  in  a  tin  basin,  and  allowed  to  stand  until 
both  basin  and  vinegar  are  spoiled. 

Cold  puddings  are  considered  good  for  nothing,  when  some- 
times they  can  be  steamed  for  the  next  day. 

Some  cooks  will  throw  out  the  water  in  which  meats  have 
been  boiled,  without  letting  it.  cool  to  take  oft'  the  fat. 

Slops  for  cow  and  pig  never  saved;  and  in  many  other  ways 
a  careless  and  inexperienced  housekeeper  will  waste,  without 
heeding,  the  hard-earned  wages  of  her  husband. 

XeEP   IPHB   I^O^SE  ^LEAN. 

A  neat,  clean,  fresh-aired,  sweet,  cheerful,  and  well-arranged 
house  exerts  a  moral  influence  over  its  inmates,  and  makes  the 
members  of  a  family  peaceable  and  considerate  of  each  other's 
feelings;  on  the  contrary,  a  filthy,  squalid,  noxious  dwelling 
contributes  to  make  its  inhabitants  selfish,  sensual,  and  regard- 
less of  the  feelings  of  others.  Never  sleep  in  a  small,  close 
bedroom,  either  during  summer  or  winter,  without  free  ventila- 
tion from  door  or  windows,  unless  otherwise  supplied  with 
abundance  of  fresh  air.  It  will  be  seen  that  a  person's  house 
usually  corresponds  with  his  character. 


256  HINTS  FOR  THE  HOUSEHOLD. 

nBATNESS. 

As  a  general  rule  for  living  neatly  and  saving  time,  it  is  bet- 
ter to  keep  clean  than  to  make  clean.  If  you  are  careful  not  to 
drop  crumbs  of  bread  or  cake  on  the  carpet,  you  will  escape  an 
imtidy  room,  and  save  the  trouble  of  cleaning  it.  In  working, 
if  you  make  a  practice  of  putting  all  the  ends  of  your  thread 
into  a  division  of  the  work-box,  kept  for  the  purpose,  and  never 
let  one  fall  on  the  floor,  the  room  will  look  very  differently  at 
the  end  of  the  morning  from  what  it  does  when  this  is  not  at- 
tended to. 

A  house  is  kept  far  cleaner  when  all  the  members  of  the 
family  are  taught  to  wipe  their  feet  thoroughly  on  coming  in 
from  out-of-doors  than  it  can  be  done  when  this  is  neglected. 
There  are  a  thousand  ways  of  keeping  clean  and  saving  labor 
and  time,  which  are  well  worth  while  to  learn  and  practice,  and 
though  they  may  seem  to  entail  trouble,  it  is  not  so  with  any 
one  of  refined  feelings,  who  regards  all  labor  to  secure  cleanli- 
ness a  labor  of  duty  and  love. 

f5    r^INT    POI^   03INDOW    GAF^DBNING. 

A  recent  English  writer  gives  the  following,  "which  suggests 
a  way  in  which  hardy  wood-climbers  might  be  made  available 
for  window  decoration  in  winter  or  early  spring:  "  Some  years 
ago,  as  I  was  passing  thrpugh  a  room  used  only  occasionally,  I 
perceived  an  odor  of  fresh  flowers  that  surprised  me,  as  none 
were  ever  kept  there.  On  raising  the  curtain  of  the  east  win- 
dow, I  saw  that  a  bunch  of  Dutch  honeysuckle  had  found  its 
way  between  the  two  sashes  at  one  corner  while  growing  in 
the  summer,  and  had  extended  itself  quite  across  the  window; 
and  on  the  branch  inside  there  were  three  or  four  clusters  of 
well-developed  flowers,  with  the  usual  accompaniment  of  leaves, 
while  on  the  main  bush  outside  there  was  not  yet  a  leaf  to  be 
seen.  The  flowers  inside  were  just  as  beautiful  and  fragrant 
as  if  they  had  waited  until  the  natural  time  of  blooming.  Since 
then  I  have  tried  the  experiment  purposely,  and  always  with 
the  same  result."  A  heavy  covering  of  the  ground  over  the 
roots  of  the  plants,  with  leaves  and  sufficient  protection  of  the 
stem  outside,  would  allov.'  this  method  to  be  practiced  in  quite 
severe  climates. 


HINTS  TO  YOUNG  MOTHERS.  257 

It  is  very  rare  to  see  a  well-grown  geranium  in  window  cult- 
ure. Even  if  the  plants  bloom  fairly,  they  are  often  drawn-up, 
misshapen  things,  not  pleasing  to  look  upon.  In  the  majority 
of  cases,  plants  that  have  been  set  out  in  the  garden  for  the 
summer  are  allowed  to  "go  as  you  please."  The  roots  finding 
an  abundance  of  rich  soil,  the  crops  grow  off  at  a  famous  rate. 
At  the  approach  of  cool  weather  the  plants  are  taken  up  as 
they  stood;  if  any  cutting  is  done,  it  is  at  the  roots,  to  bring 
them  within  the  limits  of  a  pot,  and  the  plants  are  placed  in  the 
window.  As  a  consequence  of  such  treatment,  the  majority  of 
the  leaves  fade  and  fall,  and  show  a  lot  of  long,  lanky  stems, 
with  a  small  tuft  of  leaves  at  the  top.  This  condition  of  the 
plants  is  due  either  to  a  lack  of  knowledge  or  to  timidity. 
Amateur  cultivators,  as  a  general  thing,  seem  to  fear  to  use 
the  knife;  could  the  plants  suffer  pain,  they  would  not  be  more 
reluctant  to  cut.  The  proper  method  is,  to  prepare  the  plants 
for  taking  in  long  before  the  time  for  lifting  them.  Cut  back 
the  long  stems  in  such  a  manner  that  the  plant  will  form  a  low, 
rounded  head,  and  remove  altogether  such  branches  as  will 
make  the  head  too  much  crowded. 

FAINTS  IFO  yoUNG   CQOTHEI^S. 

Some  mothers  do  not  know  what  to  do  with  the  baby  on  the 
nurse's  "evening  out."  Various  plans  of  disposing  of  him 
have  been  suggested  to  us.  One  way  is  to  put  the  kitten  to 
bed  with  him,  and  then  go  to  the  theater.  This,  however,  has 
been  objected  to  by  Mr.  Bergh  as  being  cruel  to  the  kitten. 
Another  method  is  to  let  his  papa  walk  up  and  down  the  nurs- 
ery while  he  sings  him  to  sleep  in  his  arms.  This,  however,  is 
bad  for  the  baby's  morals,  as  he  is  apt  to  pick  up  many  strange 
and  curious  interjections  from  his  father.  The  most  popular 
method  is  to  leave  him  alone  up-stairs  with  the  door  shut,  while 
you  drown  any  possible  noise  he  might  make  by  playing  "Baby 
Mine"  on  the  piano  in  the  parlor. 

Hanging-baskets  are  best  watered   by  plunging  them  in  a 
pail  or  tub   of  water  until  the  ball  of  earth  is  well  soaked. 
Allow  the  excess  to  drip,  and  when  this  ceases  return  the  bas- 
ket to  its  place. 
17 


258  HINTS  FOR  THE  HOUSEHOLD. 

So   Dl^UDGING  ^OMBN. 


BY  ELM  OKLOU 


It  is  sad  to  be  "heart  weary  and  full  of  care,"  but  to  add  ta 
that  constant  labor  beyond  one's  strength,  and  you  find  a  pain- 
fully sensitive,  nei^vous,  overwrought  nature  steadily  wearing 
out  as  fast  as  possible. 

Why  not  take  a  little  time  for  rest  and  recreation?  Is  there 
nothing  in  life  but  drudgery?  That  the  body  may  be  fed  and 
clothed,  why  starve  and  let  the  mind  wither? 

There  are  women  all  over  the  land  who  think  they  never 
have  time  to  read  even  the  newspaper.  Only  the  one  theme  of 
work,  work,  work  for  the  mind  to  dwell  upon.  No  wonder 
the  little  vexations  assume  alarming  proportions — that  many 
pretty,  merry,  laughing  maids  forget  how  to  laugh  in  woman- 
hood— that  these  women  become  fretful  and  garrulous.  Men 
wonder  at  the  change  time  has  wrought;  often  time  has  less  to 
do  with  the  matter  than  they  themselves. 

Many  a  husband  who  means  to  be  kind  allows  his  wife  to 
work  and  slave  herself  almost  into  the  grave,  thinking  he  can- 
not afford  to  hire  help  in  the  kitchen. 

In  the  fields  the  farmer  has  men  to  help  him  to  enrich  and 
prepare  the  soil  for  planting,  but  in  a  few  years  strength  and 
vegetation  are  exhausted.  If  that  tired  and  overtaxed  wife  only 
had  somebody  to  save  her  a  few  steps  in  the  day,  it  would  do 
her  much  good.  Her  heart  would  be  glad  and  light,  too,  at 
such  an  unexpected  evidence  of  affection  and  tender  care,  and 
her  health,  which  is  failing  fast,  might  be  fully  restored. 

Stop  work  early  enough  in  the  day  to  take  a  little  ride  in  the 
country — that  is,  if  you  happen  to  be  the  happy  possessor  of  a 
turnout;  otherwise,  walk  out  and  let  the  fresh  breezes  blow 
away  all  petty  cares  while  you  enjoy  the  sunshine  and  sweet 
song  of  birds.  Then  go  home  and  read  for  half  an  hour  or 
longer  and  see  if  you  do  not  feel  like  a  new  being.  Beautiful 
thoughts  will  fill  your  mind,  and  kindness  will  take  the  place  in 
the  heart  where  long-lingering  resentments  have  been.  You 
cannot  hope  to  prosper  and  be  happy  if  you  abuse  your  strength 
or  mind.  The  Bible  says  that  God  rested  after  six  days'  labor;, 
so,  ought  not  a  woman  to  rest  when  she  is  tired? 


HOT  WATER.  259 

Oui^  Indignant  I^ousbmaid. 

We  sought  our  couch  to-day,  but  at  the  door 

Heard  in  the  room  a  growl  like  muttered  thunder, 

Deep,  though  not  loud;  and,  peeping  in,  we  saw 

The  housemaid  there;  then  listened  we  with  wonder. 

We  heard  her  vent  her  wrath  in  terms  like  these: 
"About  them  chaps  what  live  by  writing  verses, 

People  may  say  to  me  just  what  they  please — 

To  them  which  cleans  their  rooms  they're  nasty  curses. 

"A  room  wuss  battered  no  one  ever  saw; 

Here,  mashed  upon  the  table,  is  a  taper; 
Pens,  holders,  rubbers,  scattered  o'er  the  floor; 

And  any  quantity  of  bits  of  paper. 
Here,  too's,  some  rags  on  which  he's  wiped  his  pen. 

To  clean  this  hole  is  not  at  all  delightful; 
The  litter  made  by  litter-ary  men 

About  a  place  is  absolutely  frightful!" 

TjOT    D^ATBI^. 

I  must  tell  you  the  old  story  of  how  the  late  Charles  Del- 
monico  used  to  talk  about  the  new  hot-water  cure.  He  said 
the  Delmonicos  were  the  first  to  recommend  it  to  guests  who 
complained  of  having  no  appetite.  "Take  a  cup  of  hot  water 
and  a  lemon,  and  you  will  feel  better,"  was  the  formula  adopted. 
And  the  cup  of  hot  water  and  lemon  was  simply  a  little  ho* 
water  with  a  drop  of  lemon  juice  in  it  to  take  away  the  insipid- 
ity. For  this  antibilious  remedy  the  caterers  charged  the  price 
of  a  drink  of  their  best  liquors — 25  cents  or  more — and  it  cer- 
tainly was  a  wiser  way  to  spend  small  change  than  in  alcohol. 
"Few  people  know  how  to  cook  water,"  Charles  used  to  affirm. 
"The  secret  is  in  putting  good,  fresh  water  into  a  neat  kettle, 
already  quite  warm,  and  setting  the  water  to  boiling  quickly, 
and  then  taking  it  right  off  for  use  in  tea,  coffee,  or  other  drinks, 
before  it  is  spoiled.  To  let  it  steam,  and  simmer,  and  evaporate, 
until  the  good  water  is  all  in  the  atmosphere,  and  the  lime,  and 
iron,  and  dregs  only  left  in  the  kettle — bah!  that  is  what  makes 
so  many  people  sick,  and  is  worse  than  no  water  at  all."  Every 
lady  who  reads  this  valuable  recipe  of  a  great  and  careful  cook 
should  never  forget  how  to  cook  water. 


260  SINTS  FOR  THE  HOUSEHOLD. 

fiN    INDUSTI^Y    POr^  ^OMAN. 

There  is  real  need  of  a  new  branch  of  industry  for  woman, 
in  which  a  needle,  thimble,  scissors,  and  deft  fingers  need  be  the 
only  stock  in  trade,  and  which  would  bring  in  a  good  many 
cents,  if  not  dollars;  and  we  all  know  that  if  we  take  care  of 
the  cents  the  dollars  will  take  care  of  themselves.  The  branch 
in  question  is  mending,  which  includes  sewing  up  of  rents,  put- 
ting on  of  patches,  darning  laces  and  hosiery,  and  repairing  all 
kinds  of  wearing  apparel  with  neatness  and  dispatch.  There 
is  no  such  industiy.  The  thousands  of  young  men  who  are 
away  from  home  are  compelled  to  sit  up  nights  in  their  solitary 
hall  bedrooms,  and, 

"  With  fingers  weary  and  worn, 
With  eyelids  heavy  and  red," 

sew  on  a  patch  that  is  a  curiosity  when  it  is  done,  when  for  a 
few  cents  they  could  have  it  look  like  an  ornament  if  only  ap- 
plied skillfully.  There  is  never  any  advertisement  like  this  in 
the  daily  papers: 

TTTANTED— A  woman  to  mend. 

Because  it  would  be  a  useless  expenditure  of  words — no  woman 
would  apply;  and  yet  dozens  of  them  who  are  to-day  sitting  in 
impoverished  idleness  could  be  supplied  with  steady  work. 
Let  them  try  a  card: 

Sarah  Jane  Smith, 
900  Prospect  St. 


ALL  KINDS  OF  MENDING  DONE  HERE. 

A  little  practice  would  soon  enable  the  mender  to  fix  on  a 
price  that  would  be  satisfactory,  and  she  could  keep  on  hand  a 
small  stock  of  material  for  mending,  and  save  her  customers 
time  and  money:  new  bosoms  in  shirts,  new  sleeves  in  garments, 
children's  garments  kept  in  order,  and  broadcloth  darned.  Such 
a  woman  would,  indeed,  be  worth  her  weight  in  gold  to  a  long- 
suffering  community.  She  would  "  knit  up  the  raveled  sleeve 
of  care"  with  tender  hands.  A  clumsy  darn  or  patch  is  cer- 
tainly a  great  trial  to  encounter,  but  the  coming  professiopal 


COMFORTABLE.  261 

mender  will  copy  the  dusky  savage  of  the  plains,  whet,  when 
she  mends  the  traveler's  blanket  or  buffalo  robe,  embroiders  the 
rent  with  her  many-colored  beads,  and  makes  that  place  the 
strongest  and  most  beautiful  part  of  the  fabric.  On  the  prin- 
ciple that  "  small  service  is  true  servi'ce  while  it  lasts,"  the 
mender  has  as  good  a  profession  to  follow  as  the  seamstress  or 
the  watch-repairer.  "Artistic  patching"  is  just  as  necessary  as 
"artistic  fitting."     It  is  never  too  late  to  "mend." 

The  small  industries  of  the  family  are  not  to  be  despised  as  a 
source  of  income.  Every  little  tells  in  making  up  the  aggre- 
gate; and,  indeed,  the  greater  part  of  the  happiness — and  of 
the  misery  as  well — of  the  world  is  made  up  of  small  things. 

As  an  example  of  what  may  be  done  in  many  a  small  village 
or  large  town,  the  enterprise  of  a  lady  in  Auburn,  N.  Y.,  might 
be  mentioned.  This  lady  had  learned  how  to  make  good  pick- 
les and  preserves,  and,  having  been  complimented  on  her  skill, 
conceived  the  idea  of  making  a  business  of  it.  She  began  in 
a  small  way,  preparing  the  products  of  her  own  garden.  In  a 
short  time  the  supply  was  inadequate,  and  she  purchased  from 
the  neighbors.  By  and  by  this  would  not  do,  and  she  gave 
out  special  contracts,  and,  as  facility  was  gained,  extended  her 
trade  as  far  as  New  York  City,  where  she  found  customers  at 
some  of  the  large  stores.  Now  her  business  employs  several 
men  and  women,  and  brings  her  in  a  yearly  profit  of  more  than 
$6,000.  It  has  succeeded  because  her  products  are  good  and 
pure,  and  are  sold  at  reasonable  prices;  and,  being  a  woman, 
no  doubt  she  will  continue  to  carry  on  her  business  on  this  safe 
basis,  and  keep  permanently  every  customer  she  gains. 

^OMPOF^TABLE. 

There  is  an  indescribable  air  of  comfort  about  some  homes 
which  you  fail  to  find  in  others  more  commodious  and  richly 
•furnished.  It  seems  an  unconscious  expression  of  those  who 
are  responsible  for  its  character  of  a  desire  to  "  do  the  best  to 
make  things  pleasant"  for  those  who  dwell  or  visit  there.  You 
love  to  stay  in,  and  are  loath  to  leave,  such  homes,  and  wonder 
sometimes  if  those  who  constantly  enjoy  their  privileges  appre- 
ciate them  as  they  should.  If  you  feel  that  yours  lacks  in  this 
regard,  try  to  see  where  the  failure  lies,  and  how  to  find  the 
remedy. 


262  hints  for  the  ho  usehold. 

Flannels. 

No  one  who  has  a  reasonable  claim  to  intelligence  and  per- 
sonal neatness  will  wear  the  same  flannels  at  night  that  are  worn 
by  day.  The  body  is  always  throwing  off  the  waste  semi-putrid, 
poisonous  matter  of  the  ever-decaying  tissues,  more  than  one- 
half  of  all  taken  as  food  and  drink  passing  off  through  seven 
millions  of  pores,  which  act  as  sewers.  These  poisons  appear 
on  the  surface  as  sensible  perspiration,  or  passing  so  impercep- 
tibly as  not  to  be  seen — in  the  latter  form,  particularly,  when 
warm  in  bed.  They  -become  lodged  on  the  skin  or  in  the 
meshes  of  the  clothing,  and  will  become  absorbed  if  not  re- 
moved. Hence  the  necessity  for  a  regular  wash  or  cleansing 
of  the  whole  surface  daily,  in  the  warm  weather  more  especially, 
while  the  use  of  the  crash-towel  or  flesh-brush  may  well  be 
substituted  in  the  cold  weather.  The  flesh-brush  is  excellent  in 
winter,  as  a  means  of  cleanliness  and  for  the  circulation  of  the 
blood,  one-half  of  which  should  be  kept  in  the  small  vessels  of 
the  skin.  If  not  thus  kept,  the  extremities,  particularly  the 
feet,  will  be  too  cold  for  comfort  and  health,  since  no  one  can 
be  really  healthy  who  uniformly  has  cold  feet  and  a  hot  head. 
A  bath  may  be  injudicious  in  cold  weather,  but  not  the  use  of 
the  brush. 

flir^iNG  THE  Bed. 

It  must  be  false  ideas  of  neatness  which  demand  that  beds 
should  be  made  soon  after  vacated.  Let  it  be  remembered  that 
more  than  three-fifths  of  the  solids  and  liquids  taken  into  the 
stomach  should  pass  off  through  the  pores  of  the  skin — seven 
millions  in  number — and  that  this  escape  is  more  rapid  during 
the  night,  while  warm  in  bed.  At  least  one-half  of  the  waste 
and  putrid  matter — from  twenty  to  thirty  ounces  per  night — 
must  become  more  or  less  tangled  in  the  bedding,  of  course 
soiling  it,  and  a  part  of  this  may  become  re-absorbed  by  the* 
skin  if  it  is  allowed  to  come  in  contact  with  it  the  next  night, 
as  it  must  if  the  bedding  is  not  exposed  for  a  few  hours  in  the 
light.  We  may  well  imitate  the  Dutch  example  of  placing  such 
bedding  on  two  chairs  near  the  window,  that  the  best  purifier 
known — the  light  of  the  sun — may  displace  the  impurities,  or 
neutralize  them.  At  least  three  hours  on  an  average  is  as  short 
exposure  as  is  compatible  with  neatness. 


HOW  TO  KEEP  HEALTRY.  263 

GASIPI^ONOMIG   ^ROYBI^BS. 

Fast  well,  feast  well. 

A  wise  cook  fondles  his  fire. 

Court  the  onion  and  flee  the  doctor. 

Let  the  doubting  cook  roast  his  fish. 

The  lean  buyer  maketh  the  fat  seller. 

Diplomacy  lieth  under  the  dish-cover. 

All  straw  is  alike  to  the  hungry  donkey. 

Discretion  is  the  proper  sauce  for  cheese. 

A  bad  dinner  is  often  redeemed  by  a  good  salad. 

Wise  counsel  cometh  not  from  an  empty  stomach. 

Rare  beef  and  well-cooked  fish  betray  a  wise  cook. 

True  economy  in  the  household  has  heaven  for  its  banker. 

Peace  hideth  herself  under  the  lid  of  the  well-managed  pot. 

He  who  eateth  without  drink  buildeth  his  hall  without  mortar. 

All  should  profit  by  the  aid  of  the  cook — except  the  apothe- 
cary. 

Neither  the  nibbler  nor  the  glutton  knoweth  the  value  of  the 
feast. 

r^OW   TO   t(EBP   I^BALJPHY. 

Never  begin  a  dinner  with  pie.  • 

Never  sleep  in  your  overshoes. 

Never  ride  a  thin  horse  bareback. 

Never  walk  fifteen  miles  before  breakfast. 

Never  swallow  your  food  before  you  chew  it. 

Never  put  your  feet  in  the  fire  to  warm  them. 

Never  carry  a  barrel  of  potatoes  on  your  head. 

Never  jump  out  of  the  window  for  a  short-cut. 

Never  drink  more  than  you  can  carry  comfortably. 

Never  give  a  tramp  your  summer  clothing  in  winter. 

Never  jump  more  than  ten  feet  to  catch  a  ferry-boat. 

Never  leave  the  gas  turned  on  when  you  retire  at  night. 

Never  sit  by  a  red-hot  stove  with  a  sealskin  cap  or  ulster  on. 

Never  kick  an  infuriated  bulldog  when  you  have  slippers  on. 

Never  thrust  your  knife  more  than  half-way  down  your  throat 

Never  let  your  clothes  dry  on  you  when  you  are  caught  in 
the  rain. 

Never  walk  into  a  parlor  at  a  reception  and  put  your  feet  on 
the  mantel-piece.     It  will  cause  the  blood  to  run  to  your  head. 


264  hints  for  the  household. 

Shosb  Bills. 

They  come  from  haunts  of  butchers  stern, 

From  every  grocer's  alley, 
They  meet  your  gaze  at  every  turn, 

And  dash  your  hopes  total-ly. 
By  thirty  saints  you  vent  your  rage, 

And  rue  you  had  not  tarried 
Ere  you  had  left  the  single  stage, 

And — witless  haste — got  married. 
In  vain,  alas!  too  late  you  vow 

Some  more  to  do  it,  never! 
For  cash  may  come  and  cash  may  go^ 

Those  bills  waltz  in  forever. 

They  wander  in  on  washing-day, 

By  singles  and  by  doubles; 
They  change  your  life  from  grave  to  gay, 

And  multiply  your  troubles; 
And  then  your  wife  begins  to  fret 

And  prophesy  disaster; 
•  You  dare  not  speak  right  out,  and  yet 

You  wish  you  hadn't  asked  her. 
She'll  chatter,  chatter,  "Told  you  so," 

Till  all  your  toe-nails  shiver, 
For  well  you  know  your  cash  must  go — 

Those  bills  waltz  in  forever. 

You  slip  about  and  in  and  out 

To  try  and  raise  the  weather. 
And  while  you  slip — both  slim  and  stout 

Those  bills  march  in  together. 
Yes,  dress-bills,  shoe-bills,  fast  and  free, 

Jog  in  upon  a  canter, 
With  now  and  then  a  plumber's  fee 

To  knock  you  out  instanter. 
Till,  luckless  woe!  your  fate  you  throw 

At  last  on  tripe  and  liver. 
For  cash  may  come  and  cash  may  go— 

Those  bills  waltz  in  forever. 


AMMONIA  IN  THE  HOUSEHOLD.         ^    265 

Too  proud  to  beg  and  scared  to  steal 

(The  landlord's  claims  are  shoving), 
Again  you  skip,  because  you  feel 

It's  cheaper  to  be  moving; 
You  rip  and  tear,  give  lip  and  swear, 

The  baby  yells  crescendo, 
Till  half  insane,  you  scarce  forbear 

To  throw  him  out  the  window. 
And  when,  at  last,  in  vain  you  try 

Your  cheek  as  legal  tender, 
What  wonder  if  you  go  it  high 

And  strike  out  on  a  bender? 
What  marvel  if  a  header  you 

Should  take  in  yonder  river, 
When  for  a  certainty  you  know 

Those  bills  waltz  in  forever? 

flMMONIA   IN   JTHB    r^OUSBHOLD. 

Ammonia  is  valuable  for  many  practical  purposes  in  the 
economy  of  the  household.  Chemists  are  profound  concerning 
the  native  article  in  its  all-important  services  in  the  economy  of 
nature;  but  farmers'  wives  throughout  the  country  really  know 
but  very  little  of  the  manifold  uses  that  can  be  made  of  a  pint 
of  spirits  kept  in  the  house,  bottled  and  labeled.  The  following 
are  among  these:  For  washing  paint,  put  a  tablespoonful  in  a 
quart  of  moderately  hot  water,  dip  in  a  flannel  cloth,  and  with 
it  simply  wipe  off  the  woodwork;  no  scrubbing  will  be  neces- 
sary. For  taking  grease-spots  from  any  fabric,  use  the  ammonia 
nearly  pure,  then  lay  white  blotting-paper  over  the  spot,  and 
iron  it  lightly.  In  washing  laces,  put  about  twelve  drops  in  a 
pint  of  warm  suds.  To  clean  silvex",  mix  two  teaspoonfuls  of 
ammonia  in  a  quart  of  hot  soapsuds;  put  in  your  silverware 
and  wash  it,  using  an  old  nail-brush  or  tooth-brush  for  the  pur- 
pose. For  cleaning  hair-brushes,  etc.,  simply  shake  the  brushes 
up  and  down  in  a  mixture  of  one  teaspoonful  of  ammonia  to  a 
pint  of  hot  water;  when  they  are  cleansed,  rinse  them  in  cold 
water  and  stand  them  in  the  wind,  or  in  a  hot  place,  to  dry. 
For  washing  finger-marks  from  looking-glasses  or  windows, 
put  a  few  drops  of  ammonia  on  a  moist  rag  and  make  quick 


266    .  HINTS  FOR  THE  HOUSEHOLD. 

work  of  it.  If  you  wish  your  house-plants  to  flourish,  put  a 
few  drops  of  spirits  of  ammonia  in  every  pint  of  water  used  in 
watering.  A  teaspoonful  in  a  basin  of  cold  water  will  add 
much  to  the  refreshing  effects  of  a  bath.  Nothing  is  better 
than  ammonia- water  for  cleansing  the  hair.  In  every  case  rinse 
after  the  ammonia  with  clear  water. 

Bf^bad  and  Butifei^. 

Bread,  and  butter  are  the  only  articles  of  food  of  which  we 
never  tire  from  early  childhood  to  extreme  old  age.  A  pound 
■of  fine  flour  of  Indian  meal  contains  thi-ee  times  as  much  meat 
.as  one  pound  of  the  butcher's  roast-beef,  and  if  the  whole 
product  of  the  grain,  bran  and  all,  were  made  into  bread,  fifteen 
per  cent,  more  nutriment  would  be  added.  Unfortunately  the 
bran,  the  coarsest  part,  is  thrown  away — the  very  part  which 
gives  soundness  to  the  teeth  and  strength  to  the  brain. 

Five  hundred  pounds  of  flour  give  the  body  thirty  pounds  of 
bony  element,  while  the  same  quantity  of  bran  gives  more  than 
one  hundred  and  twenty-five  pounds.  This  bone  is  lime,  the 
indispensable  element  of  health  to  the  whole  human  body,  from 
the  want  of  the  natural  supply  of  which  multitudes  of  persons 
go  into  a  general  decline. 

But  swallowing  lime,  in  the  shape  of  powders  or  in  syrups, 
to  cure  these  declines,  has  little  or  no  effect.  The  articles  con- 
tained in  these  phosphates  must  pass  through  Nature's  labora- 
tory— must  be  subject  to  her  manipulations,  in  alembics  specially 
prepared  by  Almighty  power  and  skill — in  order  to  impart  their 
peculiar  virtues  to  the  human  frame;  in  plainer  phrase,  the 
shortest,  safest,  and  most  infallible  method  of  giving  strength 
to  the  body,  bone,  and  brain,  thereby  arresting  disease  and 
building  up  the  constitution,  is  to  eat  and  digest  more  bread  out 
of  the  whole  grain,  whether  of  wheat,  corn,  rye,  or  oats. 

Food  poi^  Old  I^boplb. 

Is  your  fat,  good-natured  old  grandfather  living  on  fat  beef 
and  pork,  white  bread  and  butter,  buckwheat  cakes  and  mo- 
lasses, rice  and  sugar,  till  he  has  lost  all  mental  and  physical 
energy,  and  desires  to  sit  from  morning  till  night  in  the  chim- 
ney-corner or  at  the  register,  saying  nothing  and   caring   for 


TO  STOP  BLEEDING.  267 

nothing?  Change  his  diet.  Give  him  fish,  beef-steak,  potatoes, 
and  unbolted  wheat-bread,  or  rye  and  Indian,  with  one-half  or 
three-quarters  of  the  carbonaceous  articles  of  his  former  diet, 
and  in  one  week  he  will  cheer  you  again  with  his  old  jokes  and 
call  for  his  hat  and  cane. 

Is  he  lean,  cold,  and  restless  and  irritable."*  Give  him  the  fat- 
test meats  with  the  best  of  butter,  and  as  much  sugar  and  mo- 
lasses as  he  desires,  not  taking  away  entirely  food  for  the  brain 
and  muscles,  but  adapting  them  to  his  circumstances.  Perhaps 
his  brain  has  been  overworked,  and  exhaustion  and  fitful  action 
follow.  If  so,  he  needs  some  phosphatic  food  to  which  he  has 
not  been  accustomed,  as  oatmeal  j^orridge  or  oatmeal  cake, 
with  milk,  or  a  diet  of  fish,  and  pearl  barley  or  pea-soup.  Or 
perhaps  his  restlessness  comes  from  inactivity  of  the  bowels; - 
if  so,  he  needs  fruits,  vegetables,  unbolted  wheat-bread,  etc., 
with  care  to  keep  his  mind  at  ease,  and  to  haye  only  such  com- 
pany as  is  soothing  and  agreeable. 

Or  perhaps  his  irritability  arises  from  the  use  of  too  much 
meat  and  other  phosphatic  food;  if  so,  keep  him  on  a  diet  in 
which  the  phosphates  are  deficient,  as  rice,  flour  bread,  and  but- 
ter, etc.,  with  other  food  adapted  to  his  other  conditions  and 
habits.  But  that  a  regard  to  these  different  conditions,  and  an 
adaptation  of  food  to  confirm  them,  will  very  much  contribute  to 
comfort  and  happiness  in  the  declining  years  of  life,  there  is 
not  a  shadow  of  a  doubt. 

©0  Stop  BiiBBDiNG. 

If  a  man  is  wounded  so  that  blood  flows,  that  flow  is  either 
regular  or  by  jets  or  spurts.  If  it  flows  regularly,  a  vein  has 
been  wounded,  and  a  string  should  be  bound  tightly  arouipid  be- 
low the  wounded  part — that  is,  beyond  it  from  the  heart.  If 
the  blood  comes  out  by  leaps  or  jets,  an  artery  has  been  severed, 
and  the  person  may  bleed  to  death  in  a  few  minutes;  to  prevent 
■which,  apply  the  cord  above  the  wound — that  is,  between  the 
"wound  and  the  heart.  In  case  a  string  or  cord  is  not  at  hand, 
tie  the  opposite  corners  of  a  handkerchief  around  the  limb,  put 
a  stick  between,  and  turn  it  round  until  the  handkerchief  is 
twisted  sufficiently  tight  to  stop  the  bleeding,  and  keep  it  so 
until  a  physician  can  be  had. 


268  SINTS  FOR  THE  HOUSEHOLD. 

Dl^IBD   flPPLB    ^IBS. 

Some  genius  has  given  vigorous  expression  to  his  opinion  in 
the  following  lines: 

I  loathe!  abhor!  detest!  despise! 

Abominate  dried  apple  pies. 

I  like  good  bread,  I  like  good  meat, 

Or  any  thing  that's  fit  to  eat; 

But  of  all  poor  grub  beneath  the  skies, 

The  poorest  is  dried  apple  pies. 

Give  me  toothache,  or  sore  eyes, 

In  preference  to  such  kind  of  pies. 

The  farmer  takes  his  gnarliest  fruit — 
'Tis  w^ormy,  bitter,  hard  to  boot; 
They  leave  the  hulls  to  make  us  cough, 
And  don't  take  half  the  peeling  off. 
Then  on  a  dirty  cord  they're  strung. 
And  from  some  chamber-w^indow  hung; 
And  there  they  serve  a  roost  for  flies, 
Until  they're  ready  to  make  pies. 
Tread  on  my  corns,  or  tell  me  lies. 
But  don't  pass  me  dried  apple  pies. 

r^OUSEHOLD    F^EGIPES. 

For  Breakfast. — Salt  mackerel  is  good  if  nicely  cooked.  After 
freshening  it,  wrap  it  in  a  cloth  and  let  it  cook  slowly  for  twenty- 
five  minutes.  Steaming  is  preferable  to  boiling.  At  the  end 
of  this  time  i^emove  it  to  a  hot  platter,  garnish  it  with  hard- 
boiled  eggs,  cut  in  four  pieces.  Pour  a  little  cream  with  pepper 
in  it  over  the  mackerel. 

Cod-fisL — Many  people  who  like  the  various  dishes  made  of 
dried  cod-fish  do  not  have  them  as  often  as  they  otherwise 
would  because  they  object  strongly  to  the  odor  given  out  by  the 
fish  when  kept  in  the  store-room.  This  objection  may  be  done 
away  with  by  pursuing  this  course:  Buy  the  very  best  cod-fish — 
the  English-cured  is  preferred  by  many  cooks — remove  all  skin 
and  bones  from  it.  Then  put  the  pieces  of  fish  into  glass  fruit- 
jars,  screw  the  covers  on,  and  no  odor  will  be  perceptible.  The 
fish  will  not  absorb  undue  moisture,  and  will  be  in  convenient 
form  to  use  at  any  time. 


HOUSEHOLD  RECIPES.  269 

Pried  Chickens. — Cut  up  and  lay  in  a  panful  of  cold  water  for 
half  an  hour.  Then  drain  them  and  put  into  boiling  water. 
Parboil  twenty  minutes;  drain  them  and  dust  them  with  flour; 
fry  on  both  sides. 

Chicken. — A  Southern  friend  contributes  the  following  recipe 
for  "Confederate  chicken-pie:"  Boil  a  chicken  until  it  is  tender; 
then  take  a  deep  earthen  dish  and  put  into  it  a  layer  of  chicken, 
well  seasoned  with  butter,  pepper,  and  salt;  then  put  a  layer  of 
cold  boiled  rice  on  this,  and  so  on  until  you  have  exhausted  your 
resources,  taking  care  to  have  a  layer  of  rice  on  the  top.  Put 
this  into  the  oven  and  let  it  remain  there  until  it  is  very  hot,  and 
then  serve. 

Novel  Method  of  Cooking  Vegetables. — It  is  often  convenient  to  boil 
several  kinds  of  vegetables  in  one  kettle.  Peas,  string-beans, 
and  new  potatoes  cook  well  together.  For  this  purpose  small 
bags  made  of  coarse,  thin  cloth  are  most  excellent.  Make  the 
sacks  the  desired  size  and  run  a  string  through  the  top.  Place 
each  kind  of  vegetable  in  a  separate  sack,  and  tie  the  string 
around  the  handle  of  the  kettle  so  it  can  be  easily  drawn  out. 
When  the  vegetables  are  cooked,  hang  them  up  by  the  string 
for  a  few  minutes  to  allow  them  to  drain.  In  cooking  a  "boiled 
dinner"  in  the  winter — a  favorite  dish  in  New  England — the 
vegetables  retain  their  shape  better,  and  are  superior  in  every 
way,  when  cooked  in  these  sacks. 

How  Meat  Should  Be  Broiled. — In  broiling  all  meats  remember  that 
the  surface  should  not  be  cut  or  broken  any  more  than  is  abso- 
lutely necessary;  that  the  meat  should  be  exposed  to  a  clear, 
quick  fire,  close  enough  to  sear  the  surface  without  burning,  in 
order  to  confine  all  its  juices;  if  it  is  approached  slowly  to  a 
poor  fire,  or  seasoned  before  it  is  cooked,  it  will  be  compara- 
tively dry  and  tasteless,  as  both  of  these  processes  are  useful 
only  to  extract  and  waste  those  precious  juices  which  contain 
nearly  all  the  nourishing  properties  of  the  meat.  To  broil  a 
beefsteak  nicely,  rub  the  bars  of  the  gridiron  smooth,  and  then 
grease  them  slightly;  lay  on  a  sirloin  steak  weighing  about  two 
pounds;  put  the  gridiron  over  a  hot  fire;  if  the  fire  is  not  clear 
throw  a  handful  of  salt  into  it  to  clear  it;  broil  the  steak,  turn- 
ing it  frequently  so  that  it  cannot  burn,  until  it  is  done  to  the 
required  degree.     Do  not  cut  into  it  to  ascertain  this,  but  test  it 


270  HINTS  FOR  THE  HOUSEHOLD. 

by  pressing  the  tips  of  the  fingers  upon  it;  if  it  springs  up 
again  after  the  pressure  is  removed  it  is  done  rare;  if  it  remains 
heavy  and  soHd  it  is  well  done.  Serve  with  good  butter,  salt,  and 
a  sprinkle  of  pepper,  and  keep  quite  hot  until  ready  to  be  eaten. 

Boiled  Eggs. — Put  them  into  a  saucepan  of  bo*ling  water  with  a 
tablespoon,  so  as  not  to  break  or  crack  them.  Only  a  slovenly 
cook,  or  a  careless  one,  drops  them  in  with  her  fingers.  Boil 
steadily  three  minutes,  if  you  want  them  soft — ten,  if  hard. 

How  to  Keep  Eggs. — Pack  them  in  salt  or  sawdust  while  they  are 
quite  fresh,  and  close  the  vessel  in  which  they  are  packed  to 
keep  out  the  air  and  prevent  evaporation.  Gr  dip  them  in 
melted  suet  or  a  thick  solution  of  gum  arable,  taking  care  that 
the  shells  are  entirely  covered  with  it;  dry  them,  and  then  dip 
them  in  it  the  second  time;  then  pack  them  as  above,  and  keep 
them  in  a  dry  place. 

Dropped  or  Poached  Eggs. — Strain  some  boiling  water  into  a  fry- 
ing-pan, which  must  also  be  perfectly  clean.  The  least  im- 
purity will  mar  the  whiteness  of  the  eggs.  When  the  water 
boils,  break  the  eggs  separately  into  a  saucer.  Take  the  frying- 
pan  off,  and  slip  the  eggs,  one  by  one,  carefully  upon  the  sur- 
face. When  all  are  in,  put  back  over  the  fire  and  boil  gently 
three  minutes.  Take  out  with  a  perforated  skimmer,  drain,  and 
lay  upon  «lices  of  buttered  toast  in  a  hot  dish.  Garnish  with 
parsley,  and  dust  with  pepper  and  salt. 

Eggs. — To  guess  (we  do  not  say  determine)  whether  an  eg^  is 
good,  shut  one  eye,  frame  the  egg  in  the  hollow  of  the  hand, 
telescope-like,  and  look  at  the  sun  through  it  with  the  open  eye. 
If  you  can  distinctly  trace  the  outline  of  the  yolk,  and  the  white 
looks  clear  around  it,  the  chances  are  in  favor  of  the  egg  and 
the  buyer.  Gr,  shake  it  gently  at  your  ear.  If  addled,  it  will 
gurgle  like  water;  if  there  is  a  chicken  inside,  you  may  distin- 
guish a  slight  "thud"  against  the  sides  of  the  &gg.  Gr,  still 
again,  you  may  try  eggs  from  your  own  poultr3'^-yard  by  putting 
them  into  a  pan  of  cold  water.  The  freshest  sink  first.  Those 
that  float  are  questionable — generally  worse.  The  best  plan  is 
to  break  them.  In  making  cake,  or  any  thing  that  requires 
more  than  one,  break  each  over  a  saucer,  that  it  may  be  alone 
in  its  condemnation,  if  bad.  Reject  doubtful  ones  without  hes- 
itation.    Yield  implicit  trust,  or  none  at  all. 


HOUSEHOLD  RECIFES.  271 

Vermicelli  Soup.— Make  a  soup  of  veal,  mutton,  or  fowls.  Add 
\  pound  of  vermicelli,  a  little  mace,  a  cup  of  cream,  and,  before 
taking  up,  a  small  piece  of  butter. 

Beef  Soup. — Put  4  pounds  of  beef  into  6  quarts  of  cold  water. 
Boil  slowly  for  five  or  six  hours.  Slice  i  large  carrot,  2  or  3. 
onions,  i  turnip,  2  potatoes,  salt  and  pepper  to  your  taste.  If 
you  like,  add  also  red  pepper  and  summer  savory.  Then  boil 
slowly  two  hours  longer.  Just  before  taking  up,  mix  a  table- 
spoonful  of  flour  with  a  little  cold  water,  stir  in,  letting  it  boil  a 
little. 

Pea  Soup. — Use  a  pint  of  dried  peas  for  every  4  quarts  of  soup. 
Put  them  in  6  quarts  of  cold  water,  after  washing  them  well; 
bring  them  slowly  to  a  boil;  add  a  bone,  or  bit  of  ham,  i  tur- 
nip, and  I  carrot  peeled,  i  onion  stuck  with  10  cloves,  and  sim- 
mer three  hours,  stirring  occasionally  to  prevent  burning.  Then 
take  out  the  bone,  pass  the  soup  through  a  sieve  with  the  aid  of 
a  potato-masher;  return  it  to  the  fire,  and  if  it  shows  any  sign 
of  settling,  stir  into  it  i  tablespoonful  each  of  butter  and  flour 
mixed  together  dry;  this  will  prevent  settling.  Meantime,  cut 
some  dice  of  stale  bread,  about  2  slices,  half  an  inch  square, 
brown  them  in  the  oven,  or  fiy  them,  and  put  them  in  the  bot- 
tom of  the  soup-tureen  in  which  the  pea  soup  is  served.  The 
onion  is  sometimes  sliced  and  fried  in  an  ounce  of  butter  in  the 
bottom  of  the  saucepan  before  the  peas  are  put  into  it. 

Clam  Soup. — Select  5  large,  plump  clams,  and  after  chopping- 
them  very  finely  add  the  liquor  to  the  meat;  to  every  dozen 
allow  a  quart  of  cold  water,  and  putting  meat,  liquor,  and  water 
into  a  perfectly  clean  vessel,  allow  them  to  simmer  gently,  but 
not  boil,  about  an  hour  and  a  half.  Every  particle  of  the  meat 
should  be  so  well  cooked  that  you  seem  to  have  only  a  thick 
broth.  Season  to  taste,  and  pour  into  a  tureen  in  which  a  few 
slices  of  well-browned  toast  have  been  placed.  If  desired,  to- 
every  two  dozen  of  the  clams  allow  a  tea-cupful  of  new  milk 
and  I  Gg^\  beat  the  latter  until  very  light,  add  slowly  to  the  milk 
beat  hard  for  a  minute  or  so,  and  when  the  soup  is  removed 
from  the  fire  stir  the  e^^  and  milk  into  it.  This  recipe  will  be 
found  the  perfection  of  clam  soup — nourishing  and  delightful — 
very  different  from  the  watery  compound  usually  brought  tO' 
the  table. 


272  HINTS  FOR  THE  HOUSEHOLD. 

Vinegar  for  Sweet  Pickles. — To  i  gallon  of  vinegar  add  3  pounds 
of  sugar,  2  tablespoonfuls  of  cloves,  ditto  cassia,  and  bring  to  a 
good  boil. 

Don't  Wasli  Raisins. — Never  wash  raisins  that  are  to  be  used  in 
sweet  dishes,  as  it  will  make  the  pudding  heavy.  To  clean, 
wipe  with  a  dry  towel. 

To  Can  Peaches. — Take  ripe  yellow  peaches  (paring  and  taking 
out  pits),  weigh  them,  and  allow  \  pound  of  sugar  to  1  pound 
of  fruit.     Put  in  cans  while  boiling  hot. 

Cold  Slaw  or  Salad  Dressing. — Take  i  eg^,  f  of  a  cup  of  sweet  milk, 
■J  teaspoonful  of  salt,  |-  teaspoonful  of  mustard,  sugar  to  taste; 
let  this  come  to  a  boil,  and  while  hot  stir  in  vinegar  to  taste; 
when  perfectly  cold  pour  over  the  fine-chopped  cabbage.  This 
makes  enough  for  seven  or  eight  persons;  more  eggs  can  be 
added  for  those  who  like  more. 

Okra. — It  is  becoming  more  and  more  usual  to  raise  okra  in  the 
garden.  This  is  a  good  practice,  and  certainly  after  one  has 
once  enjoyed  okra  which  was  freshly  gathered  a  few  minutes 
before  dinner  he  will  not  regret  the  space  given  to  it  even  in  a 
small  garden.  A  very  nice  way  to  cook  it  while  young  and 
tender  is:  Put  the  pods  into  boiling  water  in  which  you  have  put 
enough  salt  to  give  it  a  decidedly  salty  taste;  let  it  boil  for 
twenty  minutes;  drain  from  the  water;  season  with  cream,  but- 
ter, pepper,  and  salt.  It  can  be  more  satisfactorily  served  if 
after  taking  it  from  the  fire  you  cut  the  pods  into  several  slices. 

To  Boil  Potatoes. — To  boil  potatoes  successfully:  When  the  skin 
breaks,  pour  oflf  the  water  and  let  them  finish  cooking  in  their 
own  steam.  The  best  way  to  cook  new  potatoes  for  supper  is 
to  take  cold  boiled  ones,  slice  them,  and  cook  them  in  cream,  or 
milk,  with  a  lump  of  butter  in  it  and  plenty  of  pepper  and  salt. 
A  good  way  to  prepare  old  potatoes  so  that  they  will  be  eata- 
ble: Mash  the  potato  after  boiling,  season  it  with  pepper  and 
salt,  then  with  the  yolk  of  an  ^gg — or  of  more  if  necessary — 
make  the  potatoes  into  cakes;  fry  them  a  delicate  brown  in  butter 
and  lard  mixed;  have  the  fat  very  hot,  and  then  the  cakes  will 
not  be  greasy.  Wet  the  top  of  a  dish  of  mashed  potatoes  with 
milk,  and  set  it  in  the  oven  to  brown.  Let  it  stay  there  until 
there  is  a  brown  crust  over  it. 


HOUSEHOLD  RECIPES.  273 

Making  Crust — In  making  a  crust  of  any  kind,  do  not  melt  the 
lard  in  the  flour.     Melting  will  injure  the  crust. 

Mixing  Bread. — The  water  used  in  mixing  bread  must  be  tepid 
hot.     If  it  is  too  hot,  the  loaf  will  be  full  of  great  holes. 

Gem  Pans. — The  ever-recurring  question,  "What  shall  I  get  for 
breakfast.'"'  is  sometimes  so  difficult  to  answer.  My  iron  "gem 
pan  "  is  used  about  three  hundred  and  sixty-five  days  in  a  year. 
How  we  ever  kept  house  without  it  is  the  question.  In  it  we 
bake: 

Popovers. — i  well-beaten  e^g,  i  cup  of  milk,  i  cup  of  flour, 
a  pinch  of  salt.  These,  well  mixed  and  quickly  baked,  are 
delicious  and  healthful, 

Indian  Rolls. — i  cup  of  milk,  i  cup  of  corn-meal,  \  cup  of 
white  flour,  i  tablespoonful  of  sugar,  i  teaspoonful  of  cream 
tartar,  ^  teaspoonful  of  soda,  ^  teaspoonful  of  salt. 

Oatmeal  Rolls. — i  cup  of  milk,  i  teaspoonful  of  cream  tartar, 
i  teaspoonful  of  soda,  \  teaspoonful  of  salt;  flour  to  make 
rather  a  thick  batter,  i  cup  of  oatmeal  mush  well-cooked  and 
cooled. 

Delightful  Thin  Biscuits. — Beat  very  light  i  egg;  pour  it  over  a 
pint  of  flour;  add  a  wine-glass  of  milk,  and  chop  in  i  table- 
spoonful  of  lard  and  butter  mixed.  Work  thoroughly  together. 
Break  off'  pieces  the  size  of  marbles,  which  must  be  rolled  as 
thin  as  your  nail,  sprinkling  with  dry  flour  as  they  are  rolled  to 
make  them  crisp.     Stick  with  a  fork  and  bake  quickly. 

Rusks. — Take  2  cups  sugar,  3  of  butter,  2  eggs,  i  cup  yeast,  2 
cups  milk;  let  it  rise  overnight;  make  up  in  the  rqorning  with 
flour,  and  roll  out  rather  soft  in  small  cakes;  set  to  rise,  let  them 
get  perfectly  light,  and  bake;  take  the  white  of  an  egg  and  pul- 
verized sugar,  beat  well,  spread  over  the  tops,  and  dry  a  little 
in  the  oven. 

Com  Bread. — Add  to  5  well -beaten  eggs  \  pint  of  milk 
and  I  quart  of  sifted  meal  in  which  a  piece  of  lard  as  big  as 
a  walnut  has  been  rubbed;  stir  in  to  ^  pint  of  sour  cream 
\  tablespoonful  of  saleratus,  and  add.  It  should  be  of  the 
consistency  of  fritter  batter,  and  if  thicker  more  milk  must  be 
added.  Put  in  a  tablespoonful  of  salt  and  pour  into  well- 
greased  pans,  baking  in  a  moderate  oven. 
18 


274  HINTS  FOR  THE  HOUSEHOLD. 

Sallie's  Biscuits. — Take  3  good-sized  potatoes  boiled  and  mashed 
fine,  I  tablespoonful  sugar,  J  pint  boiling  water.  When  cool 
add  I  cup  yeast,  let  it  rise  till  night,  then  add  i  quart  water  and 
flour  to  knead;  knead  half  an  hour,  and  set  it  to  rise  light  again 
before  baking. 

Hop  Yeast. — Boil  2  ounces  of  hops  in  4  quarts  of  water  for  half 
an  hour,  strain  the  liquor  and  let  it  stand  until  it  is  only  luke- 
warm. Dissolve  in  this  \  pound  of  brown  sugar  and  2  table- 
spoonfuls  of  salt.  Add  this  mixture  by  degrees  to  i  pound  of 
flour,  beating  it  quite  smooth;  then  put  it  away  in  an  earthen 
jar  or  bowl,  and  let  it  stand  in  a  warm  place  three  days  to  fer- 
ment. Then  boil  3  medium-sized  Irish  potatoes,  and  after  peel- 
ing mash  them  and  stir  them  into  the  yeast,  and  let  it  stand  in 
the  same  place  one  more  day.  At  the  end  of  this  time  strain 
and  bottle,  and  keep  in  a  cool  place. 

Home-made  Light  Bread. — Put  7  pounds  of  flour  into  a  deep  pan, 
and  make  a  hollow  in  the  center.  Into  this  put  i  quart  of  luke- 
warm water,  i  tablespoonful  of  salt,  i  teaspoonful  of  sugar,  and 
^  gill  of  yeast;  have  ready  3  pints  more  of  lukewarm  water, 
and  use  as  much  of  it  as  may  be  necessary  to  make  a  rather  soft 
dough,  mixing  and  kneading  it  well  with  both  hands.  When 
it  is  smooth  and  shining  strew  a  little  flour  upon  it,  lay  a  large 
towel  over  it  folded,  and  set  in  a  warm  place  by  the  fire  for  four 
or  five  hours  to  rise.  After  the  bread-sponge  has  stood  long 
enough  to  rise,  or  risen  overnight,  turn  it  out  on  a  floured 
bread-board  and  knead  it  for  fifteen  minutes,  using  enough  flour 
to  keep  it  from  sticking  to  the  boai'd  or  hands.  Then  put  it 
again  into  the  bread-pan  and  let  it  rise  plump  and  full;  then  di- 
vide it  into  four  loaves,  knead  it  two  or  three  minutes,  put  it 
into  the  baking-pan,  and  bake  it  in  a  quick  oven.  In  cold 
weather  the  dough  should  be  mixed  in  a  warm  room,  and  not 
allowed  to  cool  while  rising;  if  it  does  not  rise  well,  set  the 
pan  containing  it  over  a  large  vessel  of  boiling  water;  it  is  best 
to  mix  the  bread  at  night,  and  let  it  rise  till  morning  in  a  warm 
and  even  temperature.  The  above  recipe  will  make  about  8 
pounds  of  bread,  and,  divided  into  4  loaves,  will  bake  in  a 
little  over  an  hour's  time.  To  test  the  bread  while  baking,  run 
a  knitting-needle  or  broom-splint  into  the  loaf;  if  it  comes  out 
bright  and  clean,  the  bread  is  done;  if  it  is  tarnished,  the  bread 
is  not  sufiiciently  baked. 


HOUSEHOLD  RECIPES.  27? 

Baked  Batter  Pudding. — i  pint  of  milk,  3  eggs,  2  cups  of  flour, 
2.  cups  of  apples  cut  small.     Bake  one  hour;  eat  with  sauce. 

Green  Corn  Pudding. — 4  cups  of  grated  sweet  corn,  2  quarts 
of  milk,  8  eggs,  ^  cup  of  melted  butter,  i  nutmeg,  i  teaspoon- 
ful  salt.     Bake  it  one  hour,  and  eat  with  a  nice  sauce. 

Quick  Pudding. — Split  crackers,  cover  surfaces  with  raisins, 
place  the  halves  together  carefully,  closely  pack,  and  tie  in  a 
cloth  and  boil  fifteen  minutes.     To  be  eaten  with  a  rich  sauce. 

Poor  Man's  Pudding. — f  cup  of  butter,  i^  of  sugar,  i  c^^,  juice 
and  grated  rind  of  i  lemon,  all  beaten  together;  flour  and  i 
pint  of  boiling  water.  Another  form:  2  quarts  milk,  i  cup 
uncooked  rice,  ^  cup  sugar,  butter  size  of  a  \valnut,  2  teaspoon- 
fiils  of  salt,  spice  to  taste;  bake  three  hours.  Stir  often  during 
first  hour. 

Cottage  Pudding. — Take  ^  teacupful  of  butter  free  from  salt,  2 
teacupfuls  of  sand  sugar,  and  the  yolks  of  3  eggs.  Beat 
all  well  together  until  very  light;  then  add  i  teacupful  of  new 
milk,  and  when  thoroughly  incorporated  stir  in  3  teacupfuls 
of  sifted  flour,  the  well-beaten  whites  of  the  3  eggs,  and 
z  teaspoonfuls  of  "sea  foam."  Turn  into  a  well-buttered 
mold,  and  bake  half  an  hour  in  a  quick  oven.  Should  any  be 
left  from  dessert,  it  can  be  used  for  tea  as  sweet-cake. 

Cookies. — These  cookies  keep  indefinitely,  and  arc  always  good, 
neither  crisp  nor  moist:  2  eggs,  i  cupful  each  of  butter  and 
sugar,  I  teaspoonful  of  saleratus,  i\  teaspoonfuls  of  cream  of 
tartar.  Flavor  with"  lemon.  By  taking  the  same  amount  of 
butter,  sugar,  saleratus,  and  cream  of  tartar,  i  e^g,  J  cupful  of 
baking  molasses,  and  i  tablespoonful  of  ginger,  excellent  gin- 
ger cookies  are  made.  Roll  rather  thin,  but  in  fanciful  shapes, 
and  keep  on  hand.  * 

Doughnuts,  or  Crullers. — "What  would  any  one  do  who  had  a 
pitcher  full  of  sweet,  fresh  buttermilk  sent  to  her?  I  don't 
know  how  to  cook  with  it."  A  neighbor  of  mine  made  this 
exclamation,  but  a  noted  caterer,  whose  dishes  were  the  admi- 
ration of  all  who  knew  them,  speaks  highly  of  buttermilk,  and 
deplores  the  ignorance  of  the  average  cook  in  regard  to  its  good 
qualities.  An  old-time  rule  for  making  crullers  is  to  use  ^  pint 
of  buttermilk,  ^  cup  of  butter,  2  cups  of  sugar,  and  3  eggs. 
Dissolve  \  a  teaspoonful  of  soda  in  a  little  hot  water,  add  a  tea- 


276  MINTS  FOB  THE  HOUSEHOLD. 

spoonful  of  salt,  \  nutmeg  grated,  ^  teaspoonful  of  ground  cin- 
namon of  good  strength.  As  much  flour  should  be  worked  in 
as  will  make  a  smooth  dough;  cut  in  rings  or  any  shape  you 
choose,  and  fry  in  very  hot  fat.  Crullers  used  to  be  cut  in  little 
squares  after  being  rolled  out  in  a  thin  sheet,  then  the  squares 
were  slashed. 

Sponge  Cake. — 6  eggs  well  beaten,  2  cups  of  sugar,  3  cups  of 
flour,  2  teaspoonfuls  of  cream  tartar,  i  teaspoonful  of  soda,  a 
little  salt.     Mix  well  and  bake. 

Boston  Soft  Ginger-bread  (nice). — Take  9  eggs,  i^  pounds  of  sugar, 
f  pounds  of  butter,  i  pound  of  flour,  and  ginger  to  your  taste. 
Caraway  seeds  are  a  great  improvement. 

Coffee  Cake. — Take  5  cups  of  flour,  i  cup  of  made  coflee,  i  cup 
of  molasses,  i  cup  of  butter,  i  teaspoonful  of  soda,  3  teaspoon- 
fuls of  cinnamon,  i  of  cloves,  raisins,  or  currants. 

Cake  without  Eggs. — Take  i^  cups  of  sugar,  i^  cups  of  sour  milk, 
^  cup  of  butter,  2  cups  of  chopped  raisins,  i  teaspoonful  of  soda, 
spice  to  taste;  flour  enough  to  make  a  thick  batter. 

Nut  Cake. — Take  2  cups  of  sugar,  i  cup  of  butter,  3  cups  of 
flour,  I  cup  of  cold  water,  4  eggs,  i  teaspoonful  of  soda,  2  tea- 
spoonfuls  of  cream  tartar,  2  cups  of  hickory-nut  or  white  wal- 
nut kernels  added  last  of  all. 

Famous  Fruit  Cake. — Chop  fine  3  cups  of  dried  apples  and  soak 
overnight,  simmer  two  hours  in  2  cups  of  molasses,  add  2  eggs, 
1  cup  of  sugar,  f  cup  of  butter,  i  heaping  teaspoonful  of  soda, 
and  flour  to  make  a  rather  thick  batter.     Bake  in  a  quick  oven. 

Fig  Cake. — Take  2  cups  of  sugar,  \  cup  of  butter,  3  cups  of 
flour,  I  cup  of  cold  water,  whites  of  6  eggs,  3  teaspoonfuls  of 
baking  powder;  bake  in  layers.  Filling:  Take  i  cup  of  raisins, 
I  cup  of  figs,  §  cup  of  sugar,  white  of  i  e^^\  beat  all  together 
and  place  between  the  layers. 

Southern  Mode  of  Cooking  Rice. — Pick  over  the  rice  and  wash  it 
in  cold  water.  To  i  pint  rice  put  3  quarts  boiling  water 
and  \  teaspoonful  of  salt;  boil  it  just  seventeen  minutes  from 
the  time  it  begins  to  boil;  turn  off"  all  the  water;  set  it  over  a 
naodcrate  fire,  with  the  cover  off",  to  steam  fifteen  minutes. 
Take  care  and  be  accurate.  The  rice-water  first  poured  off'  is 
good  to  stiffen  muslins. 


HOUSEHOLD  RECIPES.  277 

Nut  Candy. — Take  2  cups  of  sugar,  i  cup  of  water  and  vinegar; 
boil  until  clone.    Just  before  taking  off  put  in  nut-meats 

Molasses  Candy. — Take  i  cup  of  molasses,  i  cup  of  sugar,  i  cup 
of  water;  boil  until  clone;  remove  from  the  fire  and  pull  white. 

Butter  Taffy. — Take  2  cups  of  sugar,  ^  cup  of  vinegar,  ^  cup 
of  butter,  3  tablespoon fuls  of  molasses.  Boil  slowly  without 
stirring.     Makes  two  pans. 

Chocolate  Candy. — Take  i  cup  of  grated  chocolate,  i  cup  of  milk, 
I  cup  of  molasses,  butter  size  of  an  egg,  and  i  cup  of  sugar. 
Boil  an  hour. 

Honey  Candy. — Take  i  cup  of  honey  in  i  cup  of  water,  2  cups 
of  sugar.  Let  the  water  and  honey  come  to  a  boil;  then  add 
the  sugar.     To  be  worked  into  sticks  like  molasse*  candy. 

Cocoanut  Candy. — Take  ^  package  of  desiccated  cocoanut,  twice 
the  quantity  of  sugar,  and  half  the  quantity  of  milk,  or  about  ^ 
pint.  Boil  the  milk  and  sugar  together  for  fifteen  minutes;  add 
the  cocoanut  and  boil  until  it  thickens;  take  off  and  beht  until 
stiff;  then  pour  into  a  dish,  and  when  cold  cut  in  squares. 

Sweet  Sauce  for  All  Kinds  of  Puddings. — Take  ^  cup  of  butter,  i  cup 
of  sugar,  I  cup  of  milk;  stir  the  butter  and  sugar  to  a  cream; 
boil  the  milk  and  stir  in  a  teaspoonful  of  corn-starch;  pour,  boil- 
ing hot,  into  the  sugar  and  butter. 

Ice  Cream. — New  milk  and  cream,  of  each  2  quarts;  2  pounds 
of  sugar,  12  eggs;  dissolve  sugar  in  milk,  beat  eggs  to  froth, 
add  all  together,  strain,  and  bring  to  a  scald,  but  be  very  careful 
not  to  scorch.  Same  proportion  for  smaller  quantity.  Set 
aside  to  cool,  and  flavor  with  extract  of  lemon  or  vanilla.  One 
quart  of  salt  to  each  bucket  of  ice,  coarsely  broken  up,  is  the 
right  proportion  for  the  freezing  mixture. 

Citron  Ice  Cream. — Make  a  rich  custard,  using  at  least  4  eggs  to 
I  quart  of  milk,  and  ^  tablespoonful  of  gelatine.  The  custard 
should  be  boiled  until  quite  thick,  then  let  it  cool  before  putting 
it  into  the  freezer.  Just  as  it  begins  to  be  stiff  stir  in  as  much 
chopped  citron  as  you  will  wish  to  have  in  it — the  quantity,  of 
course,  depending  upon  your  taste.  The  citron  should  be 
chopped  very  fine,  and  be  thoroughly  incorporated  with  the 
cream. 


278  HINTS  FOR  THE  HOUSEHOLD. 

Fried  Tomatoes  (very  nice). — Do  not  pare  them,  but  cut  in  slices  as 
an  apple;  dip  in  cracker  pounded  and  sifted,  and  fry  in  a  little 
good  butter. 

Lemon  Pie. — Take  3  lemons;  grate  some  of  the  rind,  i\  pints 
of  milk,  I  cupful  of  bread  crumbs,  4  eggs,  i^  cupfuls  of  sugar, 
a  little  salt,  and  add  the  lemon  juice  last  thing.  Bake  with  an 
under-crust  only. 

Fresh  Egg  for  an  Invalid. — Break  an  egg  into  a  tumbler,  add  2 
teaspoonfuls  of  white  sugar,  and  whip  briskly;  then  add  a  glass 
of  wine,  and  fill  up  the  tumbler  with  milk. 

A  Sour  Drink. — Take  i  gallon  of  %\"ater,  i  pint  of  cider  vinegar, 
I  pound  of  sugar,  2  teaspoonfuls  of  ginger;  stir  well  together  and 
add  a  lump  of  ice.  Some  like  a  trifle  of  soda  stirred  in  each 
glass,  so  as  to  have  it  foam  and  sparkle. 

Dyspepsia  Bread. — Take  i  pint  bowl  of  Graham  flour;  dissolve  \ 
teaspoonful  of  soda  in  §  of  a  cup  of  home-made  yeast,  and  add 
to  the  mixture  i  teacupful  of  molasses;  pour  in  warm  water  to 
make  it  somewhat  thinner  than  flour  bread. 

Lemon  Syrup. — Take  the  juice  of  12  lemons,  grate  the  rind  of  6 
in  it,  let  it  stand  overnight,  then  take  6  pounds  of  white  sugar 
and  make  a  thick  syrup;  when  it  is  quite  cool  strain  the  juice 
into  it,  and  squeeze  as  much  oil  from  the  grated  rind  as  will  suit 
the  taste.  A  tablespoonful  in  a  goblet  of  water  will  make  a 
delicious  drink  on  a  hot  day,  far  superior  to  that  f>repared  from 
the  stuff"  commonly  sold  as  lemon  syrup. 

Dried  Preserved  Peaches. — A  good  way  to  preserve  the  small  eaHv 
peaches  which  are- not  suitable  for  canning  is  to  peel  them,  and 
to  8  pounds  of  fruit  add  3  pounds  of  light-brown  sugar.  Scat- 
ter the  sugar  over  the  peaches,  and  let  them  stand  for  a  few 
hours;  then  you  will  not  be  obliged  to  add  a  drop  of  water  to 
them.  Let  them  cook  slowly  until  they  look  clear  and  can  be 
joierced  easily  with  a  broom-splint;  then  spread  them  on  plates, 
and  set  them  in  the  sun  to  dry.  There  will  be  a  thick  syrup  left 
in  the  kettle,  which  may  be  boiled  a  few  minutes  after  the  fruit 
is  taken  out  and  poured  over  the  fruit  on  the  plates.  When  the 
peaches  are  dry  pack  them  in  Jars,  with  powdered  sugar  scat- 
tered over  each  layer.  The  jars  must  be  carefully  covered,  so 
that  it  will  be  impossible  for  the  smallest  fly  to  enter. 


HOUSEHOLD  RECIPES.  279 

A  Dim  Light — When,  as  in  the  case  of  sickness,  a  dull  light  is 
wished,  or  when  matches  are  mislaid,  put  powdered  salt  on  the 
candle  till  it  reaches  the  black  part  of  the  wick.  In  this  way 
a  mild  and  steady  light  may  be  kept  throughout  the  night  by  a 
small  piece  of  candle. 

A  Dust-pan. — When  you  want  a  dust-pan,  have  it  made  to  order, 
with  the  handle  turning  down*instead  of  up,  so  as  to  rest  on 
the  floor  and  tip  the  dust-pan  at  a  proper  angle  for  receiving 
the  dust.  It  is  a  great  convenience,  as  you  do  not  have  to  stoop 
and  hold  it  while  you  are  sweeping. 

Beef  Tea. — Chop  i  pound  of  lean  beef  fine,  lay  it  in  i  pint  of 
cold  water  for  one  hour,  then  put  it  over  the  fire  in  the  same 
water,  and  bring  it  slowly  to  a  boil;  boil  from  fifteen  to  thirty 
minutes,  as  time  will  permit,  and  then  strain  it;  season  it  with 
a  very  little  salt  and  pepper,  if  the  doctor  allows  it,  and  use  it 
If  there  is  not  time  to  let  it  stand  an  hour,  less  time  will  answer, 
but  not  so  well,  because  the  longer  the  meat  lies  in  cold  water 
the  more  of  its  nutriment  will  be  extracted. 
•  To  Make  Tea. — Nothing  is  more  abused  in  this  world  than  Heav- 
en's gift  of  tea.  To  make  tea,  you  need  two  tea-pots.  Fill  one 
with  boiling  water;  place  the  proper  quantity  of  tea  in  the 
empty  pot,  and  pour  boiling  water  into  it;  let  it  stand  three, 
four,  or  five  minutes,*till  the  palatable  elements  of  the  tea-leaves 
are  extracted,  and  not  long  enough  to  absorb  the  tannin  and 
oftensive  oils;  then  empty  the  first  tea-pot  and  pour  the  tea 
from  the  second  pot  into  the  first.  Never  let  the  tea,  after  it  is 
made,  remain  on  the  leaves. 

Grind  Your  Own  Pepper. — Use  the  cheap  Swiss  or  French  table- 
mills  for  grinding  pepper  as  you  require  it,  and  so  get  it  fresh. 
I  have  used  nothing  else  at  home  for  a  quarter  of  a  century,  all 
pepper-casters  in  my  house  being  shelved.  But  then,  indeed, 
we  consume  but  little  pepper,  employing  it  chiefly  as  a  zest  for 
melons,  strawberries,  and  other  fruit.  Freshly  ground,  on  a 
loose  screw,  to  make  the  grains  large  and  coarse,  pepper  is  an 
aromatic  spice,  suitable,  as  in  Arabia,  to  cream-tarts.  The  high- 
dried  abomination,  of  the  consistency  of  Welsh  snuff",  which 
the  bold  Briton  shakes  copiously  into  his  soup — thinking,  but 
not  being  by  any  means  sure,  that  he  likes  it — should  be^dis- 
countenanced. 


280  HINTS  FOR  THE  HOUSEHOLD. 

To  Destroy  Ants. — Ants  may  be  driven  away  by  putting  Scotch 
snufT  wherever  they  are  in  the  habit  of  going  for  food. 

Eggs  for  HatcMng. — Visit  the  nests  frequently  during  the  day,  and 
gather  the  eggs  before  they  are  chilled,  which  would  spoil  them 
for  hatching  purposes. 

A  Good  Liniment — Turpentine  and  cider  vinegar,  of  equal  parts, 
making  a  pint,  with  a  hen's  eg^  broken  inli)  it,  make  a  splendid 
liniment  for  family  use;  good  for  horses,  too. 

For  Plant  Licfe. — A  decoction  of  the  leaves  and  stems  of  tomato 
plants  is  said  to  be  deadly  to  caterpillars,  lice,  and  other  enemies 
of  vegetation,  without  being  injurious  to  the  plants. 

For  Bed-tugs  and  Vermin. — A  weak  solution  of  carbolic  acid,  care- 
fully sprinkled  about  your  rooms  every  day,  w^ill  speedily  clear 
out  bed-bugs,  roaches,  ants,  fleas,  etc.  Use  it  once  or  twice 
each  week  as  a  preventive  and  disinfectant. 

Cold  Tea  as  a  Fertilizer. — It  is  said  that  cold  tea  is  a  good  fertilizer 
for  house-plants,  and  that  occasionally  it  is  a  good  plan  to  put 
some  tea-grounds  or  leaves  in  the  earth  around  the  roots. 

Nail  in  the  Foot. — As  soon  as  the  nail  is  extracted  apply  bruised 
peach-leaves  to  the  wound;  confine  with  a  bandage,  and  the 
cure  is  as  if  by  magic.  Renew  the  application  twice  a  day  if 
necessary.     One  is  generally  sufficient. 

Cure  for  Felon. — Take  a  pint  of  common  soft  soap  and  stir  in 
unslaked  lime  till  it  is  of  the  consistency  of  glazier's  putty. 
Make  a  leather  thimble,  fill  with  this  composition,  and  insert 
the  finger  therein,  and  a  cure  is  certain. 

Use  of  Cliarcoal. — Charcoal  forms  an  unrivaled  poultice  for 
wounds  and  old  sores.  It  is  also  invaluable  for  what  is  called 
proud  flesh.  It  is  a  great  disinfectant.  It  sweetens  the  air  if 
put  in  shallow  dishes  around  the  apartment,  and  foul  water  is 
also  purified  by  its  use. 

Bulbs. — The  leaves  of  bulbs  should  never  be  cut  off  until  they 
turn  yellow.  If  removed  earlier,  it  is  at  the  expense  of  next 
year's  flowers,  since  the  stronger  the  leaves  are  grown  the  bet- 
ter will  be  the  flowering  condition  of  the  bulbs.  The  flower- 
stalks  of  bulbs  should  be  cut  off  as  soon  as  the  flower  has  faded, 
unless  it  is  desirable  to  ripen  seed. 


no  USEH  OLD  RECIPES.  281 

Meat  for  Hens. — Buy  cheap  meat,  and  feed  it  cither  raw  or  cooked. 
IJreak  the  bones  so  that  the  fowls  can  get  at  the  marrow. 
There  is  much  cheap  refuse  to  be  had  from  the  butcher  that 
can  be  very  profitably  disposed  of  in  the  poultry-yard. 

•  To  Remove  a  Finger-ring. — Thread  a  needle  with  a  strong  thread; 
pass  the  head  of  the  needle  with  care  under  the  ring,  and  pull 
the  thread  through  a  few  inches  toward  the  hand;  wrap  the 
long  end  of  the  thread  tightly  around  the  finger,  regularly  all 
down  to  the  nail,  to  reduce  its  size.  Then  lay  hold  of  the  short 
end  of  the  thread,  and  unwind  it.  The  thread  pressing  against 
the  ring  will  gradually  remove  it  from  the  finger.  This  simple 
method  will  remove  a  very  tight  ring  without  difficulty. 

How  to  Do  Up  Shirts  Nicely. — For  one  bosom  take  a  large  teaspoon- 
ful  of  good  starcli,  and  dissolve  it  in  cold  water  enough  to  wet 
the  bosom  thoroughly  (use  cold  starch  always);  it  will  probably 
take  a  cupful  of  water.  When  it  is  well  dissolved,  starch  the 
bosom,  being  careful  to  get  it  all  wet  through;  have  ready  a 
bowl  of  clear  water  nearly  boiling,  and  dip  the  bosom  in  it; 
wring  it  out  quickly,  and  shake;  pull  the  bosom  into  shape,  and 
fold  it  up  smoothly,  and  put  by  for  half  an  hour,  or  about  that; 
iron  with  a  moderately  hot  iron,  and  rub  hard — that  is  what 
gives  the  gloss.  There  is  no  need  of  using  a  cloth  over  the 
bosom  if  you  only  put  it  by  for  awhile.  I  think  one  reason  so 
many  have  trouble  in  doing  shirts  up  nicely  is  because  they  use 
irons  too  hot. 


of  Soot  in  the  Garden. — Soot  is  valuable  for  the  amrqonia 
which  it  contains,  and  also  for  its  power  of  re-absorbing  ammo- 
nia. The  creosote  it  contains  is  valuable  as  an  insect  destroyer, 
and  also  as  a  fertilizer  of  all  garden  crops.  If  the  soil  is  dry,  a 
little  common  household  salt  may  be  mixed  with  soot.  Lime  and 
soot  should  never  be  mixed  together;  lime  destroys  the  ammonia. 
Soot  that  has  been  steeped  in  water  for  two  or  three  days  is  as 
good  a  fertilizer  as  horse-hoof  parings  for  house-plants,  and 
increases  the  vividness  of  the  bloom  of  flowers  in  the  open  air. 
Soot  and  salt  in  connection  with  compost — one  quart  of  salt  to  six 
quarts  of  soot — make  an  excellent  fertilizer  for  asparagus,  onions, 
cabbages,  etc.  Two  bushels  of  compost  make  a  heavy  dressing 
for  each  square  rod  of  ground  to  be  worked  into  the  surface  of 
the  soil. 


282  HINTS  FOR  THE  HOUSEHOLD. 

Delicious  filling  for  tarts  is  made  of  the  surplus  juice  in 
cans  of  fruit,  with  a  little  gelatine  dissolved  in  it;  use  enough  to 
make  a  jelly  of  medium  firmness. 

If  you  cannot  obtain  cream  for  use  in  salad  dressing,  a  sub- 
stitute which  will  answer  is  made  by  thickening  sweet  milk 
with  a  little  ari'ow-root  or  corn-starch. 

Bread,  biscuit,  rolls,  and  the  crust  of  pies,  are  all  greatly  im- 
proved in  flavor  and  color  if  they  are  lightly  brushed  over  with 
milk  just  before  they  are  put  into -the  oven.  A  little  sugar  dis- 
solved in  the  milk  is  an  addition  also. 

To  make  jelly  sauce,  melt  i  ounce  of  sugar  and  2  tablespoon- 
fuls  of  currant  jelly  over  the  fire  in  -J  pint  of  boiling  water,  and 
stir  into  the  sauce  -^  teaspoonful  of  corn-starch  dissolved  in  \ 
cup  of  cold  watei*.     Let  it  come  to  a  boil;  then  it  is  ready  for  use. 

For  summer  food  nothing  is  more  valuable  than  milk  for  sick 
and  well,  old  and  young.  On  farms  where  milk  is  plentiful,  it 
would  be  a  healthful  change  to  sometimes  su-bstitute  a  bread- 
and-milk — milk  with  the  cream  stirred  in — supper  for  one  of 
hot  fried  ham  and  cold  pastry. 

Arrojw-root  sauce  for  bread  or  rice  puddings  is  made  of 
2  teaspoonfuls  of  arrow-root,  the  juice  of  i  lemon,  a  little  grated 
nutmeg,.  \  pint  of  water,  and  sugar  to  the  taste.  Wet  the  arrow- 
root with  the  water,  stir  it  until  it  is  smooth,  add  the  other  in- 
gredients, and  let  it  all  come  to  a  boil. 

When  making  layer  cake  which  is  to  have  a  filling  of  fresh 
fruit,  or  one  of  any  kind  which  ought  not  to  be  put  in  until  it  is 
time  to  serve  it,  it  should  be  taken  from  the  tins  in  which  it  is 
baked,  and  be  placed  on  the  tins  turned  upside  down.  Take 
the  precaution  to  heat  these  tins  if  they  have  cooled,  in  order  to 
prevent  the  cake's  falling. 

A  CREAM  PIE  made  after  this  rule  is  an  improvement  upon 
the  old-time  so-called  cream  pie:  Make  a  rich  custard;  if  pos- 
sible use  cream,  but  if  not,  use  rich  milk  and  some  cream  with 
it;  bake  this  in  a  puff'  paste;  while  it  is  baking  whip  a  coffee- 
cupful  of  thick  sweet  cream  till  it  is  as  light  as  it  can  be,  and 
when  the  pie  is  taken  from  the  oven  put  the  whipped  cream  on 
the  top. 


HOUSEHOLD  RECIPES.  283 

This  is  our  infallible  recipe  for  curing  dried  beef:  For  every 
20  pounds  of  beef  take  i  pint  of  salt,  1  teaspoonful  of  saltpeter, 
^  pound  of  brown  sugar.  Mix  well  together,  and  rub  the  beef 
well  with  one-third  of  the  mixture  for  three  successive  days. 
In  six  days  it  will  be  ready  to  hang  up. 

Delicious  fig  candy  is  made  by  boiling  i  pound  of  white 
sugar  with  1  pint  of  water.  When  it  hardens  in  cold  water, 
pour  it  over  the  figs  which  you  have  split  and  placed  on  but- 
tered plates.  Just  before  you  take  the  candy  from  the  fire  add 
a  small  lump  of  butter  and  i  tablespoonful  of  vinegar.  If  you 
prefer  it,  the  figs  may  be  chopped  and  mixed  with  the  candy. 

Here  is  a  new  way  to  make  a  rice  pudding:  Wash  a  small 
teacupful  of  rice  in  cold  water;  then  put  it  into  a  quart  of  cold 
milk;  add  salt,  and  sugar,  and  vanilla  to  your  taste,  and  a  small 
lump  Qf  butter.  Put  this  into  the  oven  two  hours  before  it  is 
to  be  eaten;  stir  it  occasionally.  Follow  these  directions  care- 
fully, however  skeptical  you  may  be,  and  you  will  be  pleased 
with  the  result. 

Graham  griddle  cakes  are  nice  for  breakfast  on  a  cool  sum- 
mer morning.  Use  equal  parts  of  Graham  and  of  corn-meal; 
mix  with  sour  milk,  and  use  ^  teaspoonful  of  soda  to  a  scant  cup 
of  milk;  add  salt  to  your  taste,  and  a  little  sugar,  as  that  will 
make  them  nice  and  brown.  If  eggs  are  plenty,  one  or  two  are 
a  great  addition.  These  cakes  should  be  fried  more  slowly  than 
buckwheat  cakes. 

Appetizing  sauce  to  be  eaten  with  beefsteak  is  made  of  4 
tablespoonfuls  of  butter,  i  of  lemon  juice,  ^  teaspoonful  of  salt, 
\  teaspoonful  of  pepper,  and  a  teaspoonful  of  parsley,  or  a 
tablespoonful  of  tomato  catsup.  The  butter  must  not  be  melted, 
but  should  be  beaten  to  a  cream;  this  is  to  be  poured  over  or 
spread  upon  the  steak,  and  a  hot  plate  should  be  laid  over  it 
when  it  is  being  carried  to  the  table. 

A  CONVALESCENT  with  a  capricious  appetite  may  sometimes 
be  tempted  to  eat  of  this:  Toast  two  thin  slices  of  Graham 
bread,  butter  them,  and  on  the  lower  slice  pour  some  hot  stewed 
berries — hot  apple  sauce  is  also  nice  for  this — press  the  upper 
slice  upon  it,  and,  after  buttering  the  top  slightly,  pour  boiling 
water  over  it.  This  must  be  drained  off  almost  as  soon  as  put 
on,  or  the  toast  will  be  ruined  and  love's  labor  will  be  lost. 


284  HINTS  FOR  The  HOUSEHOLD. 

Barley  gruel,  with  wine,  which  is  very  nourishing,  is  made 
of  2  ounces  of  pearl  barley,  J  pint  of  port  wine,  a  little  lemon 
rind,  grated  sugar  to  your  taste,  and  a  little  over  a  quart  of  water. 
Wash  the  barley,  let  it  boil  in  a  little  water  for  fifteen  minutes, 
and  then  add  more  as  it  is  required  by  the  swelling  of  the  bar- 
ley; when  soft,  drain  the  water  from  it  and  add  to  it  the  wine, 
lemon,  and  sugar;  let  this  simmer  for  five  minutes,  then  set  it 
away  in  a  cool  place.  If  the  patient  prefers  it  warm,  it  can  be 
heated,  of  course. 

Preserved  tomatoes  are  a  luxury  appreciated  In  winter.  To 
7  pounds  of  tomatoes  add  i  pint  of  vinegar,  3^  pounds  of  sugar, 
I  ounce  each  of  cloves,  allspice,  and  cinnamon.  Scald  and  peel 
the  tomatoes  (very  ripe  ones  are  best);  drain  them.  Let  the 
vinegar,  sugar,  and  spices  boil  for  five  minutes,  then  put  the 
tomatoes  into  the  kettle;  these  should  boil  for  at  least  half  an 
hour;  if  they  were  not  successfully  drained,  three-quai'ters  of 
an  hour  is  none  too  long.     Keep  them  in  jars  closely  covered. 

To  preserve  the  large  plums  that  have  tough  skins  it  is  nec- 
essary, first  of  all,  to  remove  the  skins.  This  may  be  done  very 
easily  by  dropping  a  few  of  the  plums  at  a  time  into  hot  water, 
then  with  a  very  sharp  knife  remove  the  skins.  Cut  the  plum 
in  halves,  and  drop  them  into  a  syrup  made  of  sugar  and  water. 
The  plums  should  be  weighed,  and  an  equal  quantity  of  sugar 
should  be  set  aside  for  the  syrup.  Let  them  cook  so  gently  that 
they  will  keep  their  shape.  Take  them  from  the  syrup  with  a 
skimmer,  put  them  into  the  cans,  and  pour  the  syrup  over  them, 
having  first  removed  the  scum  fi'om  it. 

Grape  jam  is  especially  nice  if  made  of  grapes  that  are  not 
quite  ripe.  Be  careful  not  to  allow  one  unsound  grape  to  be 
used.  To  I  pound  of  grapes  add  ^  pound  of  sugar.  Rinse  the 
fruit,  but  do  not  use  any  water  when  cooking  it.  Put  a  layer 
of  the  wet  grapes  into  your  porcelain  kettle,  then  a  layer  of 
sugar,  and  so  on  until  you  have  used  all  your  fruit.  Stir  con- 
stantly to  prevent  burning.  A  long-handled  wooden  spoon  or 
ladle  is  best  for  this  purpose.  When  the  grape-skins  are  ten- 
der, remove  from  the  fire  and  put  the  fruit  into  jars  or  cans.  It 
is  but  little  trouble  to  skim  off  the  seeds  as  they  rise,  and  this 
should  always  be  done. 


HO  USEH  OLD  REfilPES.  285 

For  cooking  or  canning  black  raspberries  you  need  a  plenti- 
ful supply  of  water.  Also,  when  eaten  fresh  with  sugar,  a  few 
teaspoonfuls  of  water  to  a  saucer  of  fruit  will  take  away  the 
dry  taste,  making  them  much  more  palatable. 

To  make  oatmeal  porridge  stir  \  pound  of  oatmeal  into  i  quart 
of  boiling  water,  with  one  teaspoonful  of  salt:  let  it  boil  gently 
one  hour,  stirring  it  occasionally  to  prevent  burning.  Use  it 
cither  hot  or  cold,  with  a  little  sugar  and  milk. 

If  you  have  never  made  an  old  New  England  lemon  short- 
cake, you  have  something  still  to  learn.  If  your  family  like  a 
good  strong  lemon  flavor,  it  will  be  a  delicious  dish.  Make  a 
short-cake  dough  exactly  like  a  strawberry  short-cake.  While 
that  is  baking,  grate  the  peel  of  a  lemon  and  squeeze  every  drop 
of  juice  fiom  it  into  a  bowl;  then  take  ^  cup  of  sugar,  ^  cup  of 
molasses,  i  teacupful  of  water,  a  little  lump  of  butter,  and  a 
tablespoonful  of  flour.  Let  this  boil  until  it  is  just  about  as 
thick  as  a  boiled  custard.  When  the  short-cake  is  baked  cut  it 
in  two  parts,  and  pour  the  mixture  over  the  lower  one;  then  lay 
the  upper  part  on  this,  bottom  side  up,  and  cover  that  also  with 
the  custard. 

Apple  dumplings  may  be  made  interesting  to  the  younger 
members  of  the  family  if  the  apples  chosen  are  small  enough 
to  admit  of  their  being  prepared  thus:  Cut  them  in  two  parts, 
remove  the  core,  peel  the  apples,  fill  the  space  in  the  center 
with  sugar,  and  put  the  apples  together  so  that  tliQy  will  appear 
to  be  whole;  then  wrap  the  dough  closely  around  each  apple. 
If  the  stems  are  left  on,  it  is  an  improvement.  A  new  wav  to 
make  an  apple  pudding  is  to  make  a  batter  of  flour,  sweet  milk, 
and  one  egg,  with  baking  powder  in  proper  proportion.  Pare 
and  core  six  tart  apples;  stew  them  in  a  very  little  water  until 
they  are  quite  soft;  then  beat  the  applas  into  the  batter.  This 
is  to  be  baked  in  a  buttered,  earthen  pie-plate;  it  should  be  a 
deep  plate.  This  is  to  be  eaten  with  cream  and  sugar,  or  if 
cream  is  an  impossibility,  use  butter  instead. 

Fruit-loaf  made  of  bread-dough  is  very  nice.  After  the 
dough  has  risen  the  first  time  take  a  piece  about  the  size  you 
would  need  for  a  loaf  of  bread;  roll  this  out  on  the  kneading- 
board  until  it  is  not  more  than  an  inch  thick;  on  this  spread  ^ny 
kind  of  fruit  that  you  wish — English  currants,  chopped  raisins, 


286  HINTS  FOR  THE  HOUSEHOLD. 

stewed  figs,  or  jam — any  of  them  may  be  used;  sprinkle  a  little 
powdered  sugar  over  the  fruit,  and  put  some  little  lumps  of 
butter  here  and  there  on  it,  or  spread  the  dough  with  butter  be- 
fore putting  the  fruit  on  it.  Roll  it  up  very  tightly  into  a  loaf, 
let  it  rise,  and  bake  it  in  a  hot  oven.  Cut  it  in  thick  slices  when 
done.  This  may  take  the  form  of  a  plain  pudding;  in  this  case 
it  must  be  served  hot,  with  sauce.  The  sauce  should  be  rich 
and  highly  seasoned,  and  the  pudding  must  be  cut  into  thin 
slices,  and  the  sauce  should  be  very  hot,  so  that  it  will  pene- 
trate and  soften  the  crust. 

The  excellence  of  the  following  recipe  for  keeping  tomatoes 
is  vouched  for  by  two  good  women  who  have  proved  its  virtues 
for  many  years:  Choose  perfectly  sound,  ripe  tomatoes;  the 
skin  must  be  unbroken,  and  the  tomatoes  must  not  be  soft,  but 
should  be  taken  from  the  vines  at  the  stage  when  they  have 
just  turned  red.  Put  them  into  a  jar,  and  pour  over  them  vin- 
egar and  water  in  the  proportion  of  2  quarts  of  water  to  i  of 
vinegar;  turn  a  plate  over  them  and  put  a  weight  upon  it,  so 
that  the  tomatoes  will  all  be  kept  well  under;  then  tie  a  cloth 
over  the  jar,  put  the  cover  on,  and  set  it  in  a  cool  cellar  or  closet. 
Tomatoes  preserved  in  this  way  have  been  known  to  keep  for 
months.  It  is  essential  that  the  tomatoes  shall  be  kept  covered 
with  the  vinegar  and  water,  for  if  even  one  is  not,  it  will  decay, 
and  the  ferment  occasioned  by  it  will  spoil  all  the  others. 

A  NICE  dish  for  dessert  is  made  by  peeling  some  tart  apples, 
and  removing  the  cores,  leaving  the  apples  whole;  stew  the 
apples  in  water  enough  to  completely  cover  them,  and  when 
soft,  so  that  you  can  pierce  'them  easily  clear  through  with  a 
slender  broom-splint,  lift  them  out  of  the  water,  and  let  them 
drain  on  a  colander.  Then  to  the  water  in  which  the  apples 
were  boiled  add  sugar  enough  to  sweeten  it  well;  let  this  come 
to  a  boil;  then  drop  the  apples  in,  and  let  then*  come  to  a  boil; 
take  them  out  again  and  place  them  in  a  jar.  To  the  hot  syrup 
add  an  ounce  of  gelatine  dissolved  in  a  pint  of  cold  water.  Let 
this  come  to  a  boil,  then  pour  over  the  apples.  The  day  after 
they  are  cooked  they  are  ready  for  the  table.  If  a  small  quan- 
tity only  is  made,  put  it  into  the  dish  in  which  it  is  to  be  sent  to 
the  table,  or  put  it  into  a  mold,  and  turn  it  out  on  a  platter.  If 
possible,  serve  with  cream. 


HOUSEHOLD  RECIPES.  287 

• 
Dissolve  two  ounces  of  alum  in  one  quart  of  vinegar,  and 
clean  the  zinc  with  this  as  hot  as  you  can  use  it,  afterwards 
rubbing  dry,  and  I  am  sure  housekeepers  will  be  satisfied  with 
the  result. 

To  brighten  the  nursery  wall,  tack  some  narrow  tape  to  the 
\\i\\\  in  the  form  of  a  diamond;  leave  spaces  between  the  tacks, 
so  that  the  corners  of  cards  may  be  slipped  under.  Then  take 
bright  and  pretty  cards,  business  or  Christmas  cards,  and  fill 
the  diamond  with  them. 

To  ornament  the  table,  a  pretty  dish  may  be  arranged  thus: 
Dip  bunches  of  grapes  into  the  beaten  white  of  an  egg,  sift  pow- 
dered sugar  over  them,  and  put  them  upon  a  sieve  to  dry;  then 
lay  them  on  a  glass  dish  with  a  tall  standard.  Currants  and 
cherries  may  be  used  instead  of  grapes. 

A  LAMBREQUIN  that  IS  both  pretty  and  serviceable  for  the 
sitting-room  is  made  of  dark  seine  twine.  It  should  be  ^  of  a 
yard  deep  before  the  fringe  is.  put  in,  and  that  may  be  of  any 
depth  to  please  the  fancy.  One  made  of  dark  green,  with  a 
cardinal  satin  ribbon,  is  very  handsome. 

The  large  tidies  known  to  fame  as  the  "Jumbo "  tidy  are 
especially  adapted  for  the  willow  and  rattan  chairs  that  are  so 
popular  now.  The  tidies  are  of  macrame  cord,  and  have  very 
broad  stripes,  with  wide  spaces  for  ribbon.  They  should  be 
large  enough  to  cover  the  entire  back  of  the  chair. 

A  convenient  invention  of  a  neighbor  is  this:  She  has  a 
broad  shelf  fastened  to  the  wall  of  her  bed-room.  This  shelf 
is  in  size  like  a  small  table,  large  enough  to  hold  a  work-basket, 
a  few  books,  etc.  It  is  fastened  to  the  wall  at  the  same  distance 
from  the  floor  that  a  table-top  would  be.  She  has  a  pretty  scarf 
of  the  exact  width  of  the  shelf,  but  longei;,  and  this  adds  a  look 
of  cosiness  to  her  room. 

When  making  a  sofa  pillow  of  the  crazy  patchwork  be 
careful  to  put  the  brightest  and  most  striking  pieces  near  the 
center.  When  the  cushion  is  made  up  the  effect  is  quite  differ- 
ent from  what  it  is  when  it  is  spread  out  flat,  and  it  is  of  more 
consequence  that  the  center  should  be  handsome  than  that  the 
corners  should  be.  This,  when  reduced  to  writing,  looks  like 
a  foregone  conclusion,  but  it  is  not,  as  an  unfortunate  pillow- 
maker  can  testify. 


288  HINTS  FOR  THE  HOUSEHOLD. 

A  PRETTY  case  to  hold  cabinet  photographs,  and  which  is  in- 
tended to  lie  on  the  table,  is  made  of  plush  folded  like  a  book; 
it  is  lined,  and  has  body  given  to  it  by  having  one  thickness  of 
wadding  between  the  lining  and  the  outside;  the  plush  is  folded 
over  at  the  sides  and  forms  a  sort  of  pocket,  which  holds  the 
pictures  in  place;  it  may  be  ornamented  with  embroidery,  and 
a  pretty  design  is  a  pomegranate  and  leaves,  or  it  may  have  the 
initials  of  the  owner  in  silver  letters  upon  it. 

To  keep  a  room  purified  it  is  only  necessary  to  keep  a  pitcher 
or  some  other  vessel  full  of  water  in  it.  The  water  will  absorb 
all  the  respired  gases.  The  colder  the  water  is  the  greater  is 
its  capacity  to  hold  the  gases.  At  ordinary  temperature  a  pail 
of  water  will  absorb  a  pint  of  carbonic  acid  gas  and  several 
pints  of  ammonia.  The  capacity  is  nearly  doubled  by  reducing 
the  water  to  the  temperature  of  ice.  Water  kept  awhile  in  a. 
room  is  unfit  for  use.  The  pump  should  always  be  emptied  be- 
fore catching  water  for  use.  Impure  water  is  more  injurious 
than  impure  air. 

One  of  the  necessities,  and  luxuries  also,  of  the  toilet  is  a  bot- 
tle of  water  in  which  you  put  as  much  powdered  borax  as  will 
dissolve;  keep  putting  it  in  until  it  begins  to  fall  to  the  bottom 
and  remains  there.  When  you  take  your  bath,  or  simply  wash 
your  face  and  hands,  pour  a  little  of  this  into  the  washbowl;  it 
softens  the  water  and  removes  soil  without  making  the  skin 
rough.  It  is  good  to  use  also  when  you  wash  the  children's 
hair,  as  much  soap  is  universally  condemned  for  that  purpose. 
When  you  feel  that  cleanliness  demands  soap,  a  little  pure  Cas- 
tile-soap is  recommended. 

One  of  the  most  convenient  articles  to  be  used  in  a  sick-room 
is  a  sand-bag.  Get  some  clean,  fine  sand,  dry  it  thoroughly  in 
a  kettle  on  the  stqve;  make  a  bag  about  eight  inches  square  of 
flannel;  fill  it* with  dry  sand,  sew  the  opening  carefully  together, 
and  cover  the  bag  with  cotton  or  linen  cloth.  This  will  prevent 
the  sand  from  sifting  out,  and  will  also  enable  you  to  heat  the 
bag  quickly  by  placing  it  in  the  oven,  or  even  on  top  of  the 
stove.  After  once  using  this  you  will  never  again  attempt  to 
warm  the  feet  or  hands  of  a  sick  person  vvith  a  bottle  of  hot 
water  or  a  brick.  The  sand  holds  the  heat  a  long  time,  and  the 
bag  can  be  tucked  up  to  the  back  without  hurting  the  invalid. 


HOUSEHOLD  RECIPES.  289 

A  SOLUTION  of  equal  parts  of  permanganate  of  potash  and 
sulphate  of  magnesia,  applied  to  white  wood  by  means  of  a 
brush,  will  produce  an  excellent  brown  color  resembling  that 
of  the  walnut.  A  second  coating  should  be  applied  as  soon  as 
the  first  is  dry, 

A  eooD  way  to  keep  flowers  fresh  is  to  lay  them  in  a  wet  cloth. 
Take  them  out  of  the  vases  at  night,  sprinkle  with  cold  water, 
and  wrap  them  with  cloths  made  very  wet  with  cold  water. 
The  weight  of  the  cloth  will  not  crush  the  most  delicate  flowers, 
while  it  keeps  out  the  aii"*and  prevents  their  falling  to  pieces  or 
opening  further. 

Those  who  desire  to  divide  any  kind  of  glass  artistically 
should  try  either  of  the  two  following  methods:  Dip  a  piece  of 
worsted  thread  into  spirits  of  turpentine,  wrap  it  round 'the 
glass  in  the  direction  you  require  it  to  be  broken,  and  then  set 
fire  to  the  thread;  or,  apply  a  red-hot  wire  lound  the  glass,  and 
if  it  does  not  immediately  crack,  throw  cold  water  on  it  while 
the  wire  remains  hot. 

A  FEW  drops  of  any  perfumed  oil  will  secure  libraries  from 
the*  consuming  eff*ects  of  mold  and  damp.  Russian  leather, 
which  is  perfumed  with  the  tar  of  the  birch-tree,  never  mold- 
ers.  Merchants  have  suffered  large  bales  of  this  leather  to  re- 
main in  the  London  docks,  knowing  that  it  cannot  sustain  any 
injury  from  damp.  This  manner  of  preserving  books  with  per- 
fumed oil  was  known  to  the  ancients.  The  Romans  used  oil 
of  cedar  to  preserve  valuable  manuscript. 

A  Western  farmer  says  he  is  satisfied,  from  his  own  expe- 
rience, that  feeding  chickens  too  much  corn  or  corn-meal  is  one 
of  the  chief  causes  of  chicken  cholera.  It  is  a  very  heating  and 
fattening  food,  and  if  they  have  free  access  to  it  they  eat  so 
much  that  in  a  short  time  they  become  diseased.  He  finds  it 
much  better  to  save  wheat  screenings,  sorghum  seed,  and  buck- 
wheat for  feeding  his  chickens,  and  always  raises  a  patch  of 
sunflowers  for  the  seed,  besides  giving  them  occasionally  a  good 
dose  of  red  peppers  chopped  fine,  and  cabbage  leaves  or  raw 
turnips  cut  up  so  that  they  can  eat  them.  Following  this  plan^ 
he  has  never  been  troubled  with  the  disease,  though  many  of 
his  neighbors,  feeding  unlimited  corn,  have  lost  great  numbers 
of  their  fowls  by  it. 
.      19 


290  HINTS  FOB  THE  HOUSEHOLD. 

The  rubber  rings  used  to  assist  in  keeping  the  air  from  fruit- 
cans  sometimes  become  so  dry  and  brittle  as  to  be  almost  use- 
less. They  can  be  restored  to  a  normal  condition  usually  by 
letting  them  lie  in  water  in  which  you  have  put  a  little  ammo- 
nia. Mix  in  this  proportion:  One  part  ammonia  and  two  parts 
water.  Sometimes  they  do  not  need  to  lie  in  this  more  than 
five  minutes,  but  frequently  a  half  an  hour  is  needed  to  restore 
their  elasticity. 

Boys  are  sometimes  helped  to  form  habits  of  order  and  of 
good  behavior  by  being  allowed  to  wear  some  article  of  dress 
which  they  admire  and  really  wish  to  wear,  and  for  which  they 
must  take  thought.  For  example,  a  boy  who  had  leanings  to- 
ward pugilism  was  presented  with  a  pair  of  sleeve-buttons,  for 
which  he  had  longed.  They  were  made  of  celluloid,  and  rep- 
resented a  skull  and  cross-bones.  So  great  was  his  fear  that 
a  cross-bone  might  be  broken  off  and  lost  that  his  walks  to  and 
from  school  were  characterized  by  remarkable  self-control. 
Another  boy  is  allowed  occasionally  to  wear  a  watch  that  was 
presented  to  him  by  his  grandfather,  and  which  has,  as  he  says, 
a  "  plate-glass  front,"  and  so  must  be  carefully  guarded.  Of 
course,  after  a  time  the  novelty  wears  off,  but  every  time  that  a 
child  behaves  properly,  instead  of  improperly,  a  tendency  in 
the  right  direction  is  developed, 

A  NOVELTY  in  comforts  is  made  in  this  way:  Prepare  the 
lining  and  put  it  upon  the  quilting-frames;  cover  the  border  for 
about  half  a  yard  all  around  the  cotton  batting;  have  it  just  one 
thickness.  Now  make  a  tick  of  heavy,  unbleached  cotton 
cloth,  the  exact  size  of  the  lining  that  is  left  uncovered  with 
cotton.  Into  this  tick  put  about  three  pounds  of  nice  feathers. 
They  should  be  renovated  if  not  what  the  farmer's  wife  calls 
•'lively."  Sew  the  tick  to  the  lining,  bringing  it  with  care 
close  to  the  cotton.  Now  put  the  outside  on,  just  as  you  would 
if  you  were  making  an  ordinary  comfort.  When  this  is  smoothly 
and  securely  fastened,  quilt  one  row  just  where  the  feather  tick 
joins  the  cotton,  and  from  this  out  to  the  edge  it  may  be  quilted 
in  any  pattern  you  please,  cither  in  straight  rows,  or  squares,  or 
diamonds,  or  in  oblique  lines.  This  makes  a  warm  and  yet 
light  covering,  and  it  may  be  made  of  very  handsome  materials. 
Cotton  sateen  makes  durable  and  very  pretty  comforts. 


UDOIR. 

©HE   LtADY.     . 


BY  W.  W.  BREESE. 


ADIES  are  by  no  means  uncommon  in  these 
days.  Our  estimate  of  the  qualities  con- 
stituting a  lady  are  gauged  more  by  com- 
mon sense  than  was  once  the  case.  We 
are  not  so  easily  imposed  upon  by  false  pretense  as 
were  our  fathers.  We  read  human  nature  with  a 
keener  insight  and  quicker  perception  than  they. 
*'Fine  feathers  ne'er  make  fine  birds,"  and  the  one 
who  thinks  otherwise  will  sodn  have  his  eye-teeth 
cut,  if  he  lives  long  enough,  and  moves  about  in  the 
world  to  any  great  extent. 

Some  ignorant,  poorly-balanced  persons,  have  the 
idea  that  only  those  women  who  dress  well,  talk 
well,  and  assume  to  attract  attention,  can  be  classed 
as  ladies.  But  with  the  intelligent,  observant  man, 
too  much  prominence  in  either  of  the  qualities  named 
is  good  cause  for  suspicion  that  she  is  not  a  lady — 
quite  the  opposite.  Here  is  the  description  of  one  of 
the  most  charming  ladies  in  the  South,  and  her  ex- 
ample may  well  incite  many  a  young  maiden  to  follow 

(291)     . 


292  LADIES'  BOUDOIR. 

in  her  footsteps,  and  earn  a  similar  position  in  Amer- 
ican esteem: 

"  The  wife  of  Dr.  H.  Felton,  of  Georgia,  is  said  to 
be  the  best  politically  informed  woman  in  the  South. 
She  is  her  husband's  political  adviser,  and  accompa- 
nies him  on  his  canvassing  tours.  In  addition,  she  is 
a  charming  and  accomplished  woman,  with  a  bright, 
intellectual  face.  Her  value  as  a  help-meet  is  indi- 
cated in  the  naive  confession  recently  made  to  a  cor- 
respondent: 'When  we  were  married,'  she  said,  'we 
were  both  very  poor.  The  doctor  worked  a  small  farm, 
and  I  helped  him  to  support  us  by  hauling  wood  to 
Cartersville.  I  used  to  get  up  on  the  wagon  and  drive* 
into  town,  where  I  sold  the  w^ood,  and  with  the  pro- 
ceeds, together  with  what  the  doctor  made  on  the 
farm,  we  were  enabled  to  live  and  keep  out  of  debt. 
We  have  always  been  able  to  do  this.  When  in 
Washington  we  lived  within  our  means,  and  came 
home  after  Congress  had  adjourned  with  a  little 
money  saved  up.' " 

The  true  lady  is  universally  kind-hearted,  polite, 
observant  of  the  wants  and  tastes  of  others,  and  in- 
tent upon  making  others  happy,  rather  than  being 
happy  herself.  She  never  mistakes  selfish  pleasure 
for  true  happiness;  she  never  enjoys  "  fun  "  that  causes 
another  the  least  pain  or  distress.  She  is  never  ex- 
acting or  capricious.  Many  so-called  ladies  are  far 
from  possessing  the  qualities  just  named.  Sometimes, 
presuming  on  the  devotion  of  friendship,  the  real,, 
coarse  nature  of  such  an  one  will  come  to  the  sur- 
face, and  reveal  a  most  unladylike  temper  and  dispo- 
sition. Young  women  not  unfrequently  indulge  in 
exactions  and  whimsical  notions,  which  may  be  borne 


THE  LADY.  293 

patiently  by  their  friends,  and  overlooked  because  of 
the  love  of  the  other;  but  these  things  may  end  dis- 
astrously, as  the  following  anecdotes  prove: 

A  brave  French  officer  w^as  once  visiting  the  men- 
agerie with  his  lady-love,  when  she  suddenly  de- 
manded of  him,  as  a  test  of  his  affection,  that  he 
spring  into  the  lion's  den  and  bring  back  her  glove, 
which  she  threw  there.  When  he  became  fully  con- 
vinced that  she  was  in  earnest,  he  lightly  sprang  down 
among  the  terrible  beasts,  caught  up  the  glove,  and 
before  they  could  catch  him  was  by  her  side.  But 
he  flung  the  glove  in  her  face  and  proudly  walked 
away,  rightly  deeming  that  one  who  could  hold  his 
life  in  such  light  esteem  was  unworthy  to  bear  his 
name. 

Another  case  occurred  near  Marblehead,  Mass., 
where  a  long,  deep  fissure  in  the  rocks  near  the  sea- 
shore exists,  and  beside  this  a  path  runs  down,  which 
is  often  used  by  lovers  in  their  evening  walks.  A  young 
man  and  his  sweetheart  were  walking  here,  when 
she  suddenly  demanded  that  he  should  leap  the  chasm 
in  proof  of  his  ardent  love  for  her.  It  was  more  than 
a  hundred  feet  deep,  and  to  fall  in  was  sure  death 
upon  the  rocks  below,  as  well  as  in  the  sea-water 
which  lay  at  the  bottom.  She  began  to  upbraid  him 
with  cowardice  when  he  objected  to  hazarding  his 
life  in. so  foolish  a  manner,  and  he  finally  consented, 
and,  stepping  back  a  few  paces,  ran  and  jumped  for 
the  other  side,  barely  reaching  the  edge,  and  then 
clambered  up  the  rocks,  raised  his  hat,  and  bade  her 
good  evening  and  good-by.  He  never  spoke  to  her 
again. 

Coleridge  describes  the  sentiment  of  the  true  lady 


294  LADIES'  BOUDOIR. 

for  the  true  man,  and  their  mutual  admiration  and  re- 
spect, in  a  very  forcible  manner.  He  says:  "Love 
is  the  admiration  and  cherishing  of  the  amiable  quali- 
ties of  the  beloved  person,  upon  the  condition  of  your- 
self being  the  object  of  their  action.  The  qualities 
of  the  sexes  correspond.  The*  man's  courage  is  loved 
by  the  woman,  whose  fortitude  again  is  coveted  by 
the  man.  His  vigorous  intellect  is  answered  by  her 
infallible  tact.  Can  it  be  true,  what  is  so  constantly 
affirmed,  that  there  is  no  sex  in  souls?  I  doubt  it — I 
doubt  it  exceedingly." 

The  qualities  of  a  lady  are  certainly  inherent  to  her 
soul,  and  whether  as  daughter,  sister,  sweetheart, 
wife,  or  mother,  she  fills  a  position  of  peculiar  power 
and  responsibility.  For  the  manner  in  which  she  fills 
this  position — whether  as  a  lady,  with  her  refining, 
beautifying,  ennobling  influence,  or  as  a  selfish,  brutish, 
and  unlovely  -woman — she  will  be  required  to  account 
at  the  judgment-bar  of  God. 

Fair  reader,  for  what  are  you  living?  Do  you  re- 
gard the  good  opinion,  the  kindly  wishes,  the  hearty 
good-will  of  your  nearest  and  dearest  friends?  Do 
you  desire  long  life,  happiness,  quiet,  and  comfort  in 
old  age?  Then,  by  all  means  be  a  lady!  But  perhaps 
you  hardly  comprehend  how  the  term  applies  to  you, 
or  may  be  made  to  apply  to  you,  in  the  one  case,  and 
be  inappropriate  in  another.  Let  us  see.  Do  you 
ever  do  or  say  any  thing  that  you  would  not  want 
good  people  or  your  parents  to  know  about?  Then, 
you  are  not  doing  exactly  as  a  true  lady  would  do. 
Do  you  persist  in  keeping  up  an  acquaintance  with 
persons  of  either  sex  whose  morals  are  in  the  least 
questionable?     Beware,  for  no  true  lady  can  do  this  I 


TRUE  WOMANHOOD.  295 

Do  you  allow  your  passions  and  impulses  to  lead  you 
into  actions  which  your  consdence  tells  you  are 
wrong?  You  are  stepping  outside  the  realm  of  a 
true  lady  if  you  do.  Do  you  allow  any  gentleman, 
who  claims  your  intimate  friendship  and  approval,  to 
do  any  act  or  say  any  word  in  your  company  or  pres- 
ence that  you  would  be  ashamed  of  if  said  or  done 
in  the  presence  of  the  queen,  or  of  your  mother? 
Then,  you  sacrifice  your  claim  to  true  ladyship. 

We  hope  that  you  will  earnestly  strive  to  be  a  real, 
true  lady,  and  not  the  counterfeit  of  one.  Too  many, 
alas!  strive  only  for  outward  appearances,  with  no  de- 
sire or  intuition  of  the  enjoyment  to  be  found  in  the 
possession  of  the  genuine  article.  Such  persons  are 
easily  detected,  and  expose  themselves  to  the  well- 
deserved  ridicule  of  the  sincere  and  honest. 

©F^UB  Womanhood. 

However  much  it  may  be  discredited  by  people  with  advanced 
ideas,  the  highest  type  of  womanhood,  and  the  highest  place 
of  honor  for  woman,  is  that  of  the  Roman  matron,  whose  jewels 
were  a  family  of  pure  daughters  and  strong,  dutiful  sons.  This 
is  old-fashioned  and  humdrum  sermonizing,  but,  if  it  is  not  true, 
set  us  a  picture  of  something  better.  The  woman  who  raises 
such  a  family  is  a  heroine.  She  endures  mental  and  physical 
care  and  pain.  She  meets  and  overcomes  great  obstacles  by 
patient  and  persevering  effort.  She  is  compelled  to  win  moral 
victories  over  herself  in  order  that  she  may  win  them  over  the 
wayward  tendencies  of  her  children.  And  the  value  of  her 
ultimate  victory  is  seen  in  the  value  of  that  which  she  has  won. 
In  the  first  place,  she  brings  happiness  and  honor  to  her  hus- 
band— a  victory  which  is  in  the  highest  degree  satisfactory  to 
her  mind  and  heart.  In  the  second  place,  her  home  exerts, a 
salutary  influence  upon  other  homes  in  the  community.  And, 
finally,  her  children,  going  out  to  establish  other  homes,  and  to 
exert  their  influence  upon  society,  carry  the  blessings  achieved 


296  LADIES'  BOUDOIR. 

by  her  heroism  and  constancy  to  a  great  and  increasing  circle 
of  people.  * 

Women  often  repine  at  their  circumscribed  limit  of  useful- 
ness. They  would  be  great  writers,  great  reformers,  or  employ 
the  power  of  great  wealth.  A  small  rain-cloud,  which  pours 
its  refreshment  on  a  small  field,  will  produce  the  sweetness  of 
bloom  and  fruits;  scatter  it  over  a  wide  area,  and  it  will  not 
even  lay  the  dust — it  will  do  no  good  whatever.  If  the  ener- 
gies of  some  of  our  popular  literary  women  were  concentrated 
on  a  home  and  a  family  of  children,  there  would  be  a  harvest 
of  happiness  and  virtue  to  show  for  it;  thrown  broadcast,  it 
becomes  a  profitless  sprinkle  of  rain.  Carbon  dissipated  in  the 
air  is  good  for  the  general  economy  of  nature,  but  give  us  rather 
the  carbon  in  diamonds  and  in  the  cheery  fire  on  the  hearth. 

Female  flGGOMPLiSHMENTS. 

In  this  article  it  is  my  purpose  to  speak  without  a  parable,  and 
to  speak  briefly  of  some  things  of  which  it  may  be  profitable  to 
my  young  friends  to  hear. 

At  the  outset  I  shall  assume  that  the  soul  is  immortal;  that 
time  is  short,  and  eternity  near;  and  that  this  "period  of  our  be- 
ing" is  given  us  as  a  season  in  which  to  sow  the  seeds  of  which 
eternity  alone  can  render  back  the  harvest. 

Under  this  view  life  assumes  an  amazing  importance.  It  be- 
comes a  solemn  thing  to  live.  If  we  mean  to  reach  heaven,  we 
must  take  heed  how  we  live  in  this  world.  The  young  often 
fail  to  make  a  proper  estimate  of  life — either  of  this  present  or 
of  that  which  is  to  come.  But  who  can  be  benefited  by  living 
under  a  constant  delusion?  Who  is  so  foolish  as  not  to  desire 
to  view  every  thing  pertaining  to  life  in  its  true  light? 

We  like  good  singing.  We  regard  it  as  essential  to  a  finished 
education — not  a  substitute.  And  what  if  you  can  sing  sweetly? 
The  pearly  teeth  will  soon  decay,  and  the  time  will  sooner  or 
later  come  when  all  the  daughters  of  music  shall  be  brought 
low.  The  voice  of  song  is  not  heard  in  the  grave;  and  the  mel- 
odies of  the  high  world  beyond  it  are  anthems  of  joy  and  glad- 
ness, which  flow  only  from  hearts  reconciled  to  God  and  full  of 
the  intense  ardor  of  holy  love.  Many  a  maiden  Who  sings  like 
an  angel  in  this  world  may  fail  to  sing  like  an  angel  in  that. 
Her  accomplishment  in  this  delightful  art,  if  too  highly  valued, 


FEMALE  ACCOMPLISHMENTS.  297 

may  lead  to  forgetfulness  of  Him  who  fashioned  the  tuneful 
voice  and  gave  harmony  to  sounds.  There  is  no  objection  to 
learning  to  sing  well,  and  even  beautifully.  She  who  can  learn 
ought  to  learn,  by  all  means.  But  the  objection  lies  against  over- 
valuing and  relying  on  any  mere  accomplishment,  however 
pleasing  or  desirable  in  itself,  to  the  neglect  of  more  important 
attainments. 

And  what  shall  I  say  of  female  fashions?  of  the  time  and 
money  wasted  in  following  the  fashions?  What  can  I  say,  but 
that  she  who  prides  herself  on  being  the  most  fashionable  of 
ladies,  and  who  devotes  her  time  and  prostitutes  her  talents  to 
the  mere  gaudy  decoration  of  her  person,  for  the  empty  name 
of  being  called  fashionable,  is  worse  than  a  blank  in  society? 
For  surely  her  influence  is  highly  detrimental  to  those  whose 
pride  and  vanity  prompt  them  to  do  likewise.  And  I  sometimes 
shudder  to  think  what  a  solemn  and  awful  account  the  devotees 
of  fashion  must  render  when  they  shall  be  summoned  to  answer 
for  time  wasted,  money  squandered,  and  talents  misapplied. 

Why  should  any  youthful  maiden  be  ambitious  to  waste  her 
precious  years  in  the  pursuit  of  fickle  fashion,  seeing  that  the 
fashion  of  this  world  passes  away?  The  fool  may  be  charmed 
by  such  ephemeral  distinctions;  he  may  be  dazzled  by  the  glit- 
ter oftinselry;  captivated  by  the  mere  outward  adorning,  of 
plaiting  of  the  hair,  of  wearing  of  gold,  or  the  putting  on  of 
apparel.  But  every-where,  and  at  all  times,  the  virtuous  and 
good  infinitely  prefer  the  ornament  of  a  meek  and  quiet  spirit, 
which  also,  in  the  sight  of  God,  is  of  great  price. 

Not  long  ago,  in  a  country  village  not  a  thousand  miles  from 
Boston,  a  nice  young  man,  of  American  parentage,  married  a 
blooming  daughter  of  the  Em'erald  Isle.  To  some  it  seemed  a 
singular  choice.  He  was  asked  why  he  did  so.  "Why,"  said 
he,  "if  I  had  married  one  of  our  American  girls,  I  should  have 
had  no  help  from  her,  but  should  have  been  obliged  to  hire  an 
Irish  girl  to  take  care  of  her  and  do  the  work;  and  I  preferred 
to  marry  a  woman  who  was  capable  of  doing  the  work,  and  who 
would  be  willing  and  able  to  take  care  of  herself  and  me." 

This  fact  has  a  voice  for  every  young  maiden's  ear,  and  happy 
will  she  be  who  heeds  its  admonition,  and  begins,  without  delay, 
to  form  such  a  character  and  to  cultivate  such  habits  as  will  se- 
cure the  approbation  of  the  wise  and  good  and  the  smile  of  God! 


298  LADIES'  BOUDOIR. 

©HE  (9HANGB. 


BY  MRS.  BROWNING. 


"Yes,"  I  answered  you  last  night; 
"No,"  this  morning,  sir,  I  say; 
Colors  seen  by  candle-light 

Will  not  look  the  same  by  day. 

When  the  viols  played  their  best, 

Lamps  above  and  laughs  below, 
Love  me  sounded  like  a  jest, 

Fit  for  i/e5,  or  fit  for  no. 

Call  me  false,  or  call  me  free; 

Vow,  whatever  light  may  shine, 
No  man  on  your  face  shall  see 

Any  grief  for  change  on  mine. 

Yet  the  sin  is  on  us  both; 

Time  to  dance  is  not  to  woo; 
Wooing  light  makes  fickle  troth, 

Scorn  of  me  recoils  on  you. 

Learn  to  win  a  lady's  faith 

Nobly,  as  the  thing  on  high — 
Bravely,  as  for  life  and  death, 

With  a  loyal  gravity. 

Lead  her  from  the  festive  boards 

Point  her  to  the  starry  skies; 
Guard  her,  by  your  truthful  words, 

Pure  from  courtship's  flatteries. 

By  your  truth  she  shall  be  true. 

Ever  true,  as  wives  of  yore; 
And  her  yes,  once  said  to  you, 

Shall  be  Yes  forevermore. 

There  never  was  a  time  when  the  dress  counted  for  so  little 
in  the  estimate  of  character  as  now.  It  is  getting  to  be  pretty 
well  understood  that  a  woman  who  is  celebrated  for  her  clothes 
is  known  for  nothing  else. — Jennie  June. 


DANCING.  299 

Dancing. 

Dancing  may  be  the  harmless  amusement  its  supporters  claim 
it  to  be,  but  the  experience  of  every  unbiased,  close  observer  and 
thinker  who  has  frequented  ball-rooms  and  seen  the  whirl  of 
the  voluptuous  dancers  to  the  strains  of  the  most  sensuous  of 
all  music — that  of  the  dance — emphatically  denies  the  harmless 
character  affirmed  of  the  dance.  That  the  plane  of  manly  and 
womanly  chastity  is  lowered,  invisible  though  it  may  be,  is  un- 
questionable. 

Its  evil  fascination  has  acted  so  powerfully  on  many  persons 
that  in  their  mad  infatuation  for  it  they  have  been  drawn  upon 
the  fatal  rocks  of  irreparable  ruin.  There  are  profound  physi- 
ological principles  involved  in  the  dance  which  the  space  of  a 
newspaper  article  will  not  allow  me  to  discuss;  but  I  am  certain 
when  the  moral,  intellectual,  and  physical  effects  of  dancing  are 
summed  up,  the  aggregate  will  be  an  appalling  and  unanswer- 
able reply  to  the  fallacious  arguments  of  its  supporters. 

I  do  not  mean  to  say  that  every  one  who  is  fond  of  dancing 
is  thereby  necessarily  obliged  to  fall,  but  no  one  can  exclude 
herself  or  himself  froni  the  circle  of  its  terrible  possibilities. 

Better  be  a  wall-flower,  noble,  dignified,  and  respected,  than 
a  rose  from  which  the  basest  hands  can  pluck  the  leaves  of  del- 
icacy. Better  to  lose  the  whole  world  and  hold  to  the  most 
glorious  of  all  womanly  attributes — a  world-rebuking  purit}' — 
than  to  sacrifice  it  for  the  fruit  of  the  tree  of  worldly  pleasure. 
Other  kinds  of  indulgence  have  slain  their  thousands,  but  danc- 
ing has  slain  its  tens  of  thousands.  Every  ball-room  has  been 
a  Golgotha  of  virtue. 

Let  parents  read  and  ponder  well  this  testimony  against  this 
great  social  iniquity,  and  teach  their  daughters  that  to  be  "  wall- 
flowers" is  far  better  than  to  whirl  in  the  embraces  of  men, 
some  of  whom  are  known  by  their  associates  to  be  libertines. 
How  a  mother  can  consent  for  her  daughter  to  indulge  in  the 
waltzing  of  a  ball-room  with  nearly  any  or  all  men  who  may 
ask  the  privilege,  is  a  most  amazing  fact. 

To  women  who  turn  instinctively  to  some  handicraft  for  re- 
laxation, I  have  only  one  suggestion.  Beware  of  rubbish.  It  is 
scarcely  worth  while  to  have  an  immortal  soul  and  spend  its 
energies  on  lamp-mats. 


300  LADIES'  BOUDOIR 

■  Hovels  and  riovEL-i^EADiNG. 

Novel-reading  is  a  most  unprofitable,  foolish,  and  dangerous 
business — I  mean  for  those  who  make  it  a  business,  as  most  do 
who  may  properly  be  styled  novel-readers. 

In  the  first  place,  it  is  unprofitable,  for  it  stores  the  mind  with 
no  really  valuable  knowledge.  It  is  not  generally  pretended,  I 
believe,  by  those  who  write  novels,  that  they  bless  the  world 
with  any  important  information.  It  is  not  their  design  to  in- 
struct, but  only  to  amuse.  Yet  amusement  is  by  no  means  the 
great  end  of  human  life.  We  are  endowed  with  powers  and 
faculties  which  clearly  indicate  that  He  who  formed  us  had  in 
view  a  nobler  design  in  our  origin  than  this.  Most  unwise  is 
it,  then,  for  us  to  prostitute  our  powers  to  unprofitable  employ- 
ments, to  unworthy  ends. 

No  young  man  of  taste  and  judgment,  in  his  sober  senses, 
wishes  to  lead  to  the  hymeneal  altar  any  maiden  whose  heart's 
best  emotions  of  tenderness  and  love  have  been  a  thousand 
times  enlisted  in  deep  sympathy  with  some  novel-hero  who,  like 
Byron's  Corsair, 

"Left  a  villain's  name  to  other  times, 
Linked  M'ith  one  virtue  and  a  thousand  crimes." 

For  he  who  has  correct  views  of  the  uncertainty  of  human 
vicissitudes  must  know  that  life  is  not  all  sunshine,  and  that 
such  a  one  is  not  fitted  to  stand  by  his  side  and  courageously 
buffet  the  storms  of  life,  and  bear  its  ills  with  unflinching  forti- 
tude. And  how  shall  such  a  one  bow  with  him  in  the  family 
circle,  and  blend  her  heart  in  unison  with  his,  at  the  altar  of 
domestic  prayer?  How  shall  she  guide  the  little  feet  of  those 
young  immortals  whom  God  in  his  providence  may  see  fit  to 
intrust,  in  their  ignorance  and  helplessness,  to  her  training  and 
keeping?  No;  better,  infinitely  better,  never  be  amused  than 
to  be  amused  at  the  price  of  exchanging  all  sober  views  of 
life's  stern  realities  for  those  which  are  merely  chimerical,  and 
all  preparation  for  the  discharge  of  its  duties  for  a  complete 
imfitness. 

But  besides  being  unprofitable,  novel-reading  is  a  foolish 
habit.  Of  what  possible  utility  can  it  be?  And  if  it  be  not 
useful  for  any  of  the  purposes  of  life  to  know,  for  instance,  the 


SKILL.  301 

catastrophe  of  the  last  new  novel,  why  spend  hour  after  hour, 
and  especially  of  the  morning  hours  of  life,  in  pondering  its 
seductive  pages?  What  does  it  amount  to,  after  all?  Suppose 
you  commence  reading  some  new  novel  that  is  just  beginning 
to  be  issued  in  separate  numbers  through  the  public  journals. 
At  every  new  issue  you  drop  every  thing  else  and  sit  down  an 
hour  or  two,  or  more,  and  greedily  devour  it  by  snatches,  till, 
at  the  end  of  one  week,  or  two,  or  ten,  or  possibly  as  many 
months,  you  find  your  thoughts  and  feelings  entangled  in  the 
toils  of  the  crafty  novelist,  as  the  spider  entangles  a  fly,  and  you 
cannot  extricate  them  if  you  would;  and  yet,  to  all  appearance, 
you  are  no  nearer  any  satisfactory  conclusion  than  when  you 
began. 

Skill. 

Fifty  years  ago  no  American  lady's  education  was  considered 
"finished"  imtil  she  could  darn  and  patch  so  as  to  be  compli- 
mented by  her  grandmother,  whose  years  of  practice  had  made 
her  an  expert  in  this  useful  domestic  art.  Though  a  "lost  art" 
in  many  of  our  families,  it  still  flourishes  in  Scotland.  Her 
economical  housewives  are  so  proud  of  their  conquests  over  the 
accidents  which  befall  apparel  that  in  Aberdeen  there  was  re- 
cently held  an  exhibition  of  work  in  patching  and  darning. 

Hundreds  of  articles  were  shown  whose  defects,  if  they  had 
belonged  to  an  ordinary  American  housewife,  would  have  con- 
signed them  to  the  lag-bag.  Yet  so  skillfully  had  they  been 
patched  or  darned  that  their  rents  and  holes  were  hidden  from 
all  eyes  save  the  most  prying. 

An  India  shawl  was  exhibited  in  which  a  long  slit  had  been 
burned.  So  skillfully  had  the  darning  been  executed,  and  so 
faithfully  the  pattern  followed,  that  at  the  distance  of  a  yard  no 
one  could  detect  the  place  where  the  shawl  had  been  repaired. 

In  one  of  the  swallow-tails  of  a  fine  dress-coat  an  envious 
nail  had  made  a  large  rent;  but  only  the  keenest  vision  could 
discover  the  square  patch  inserted  by  the  deftly-working  fingers. 

Costly  silken  hose,  in  elaborate  patterns,  darned  in  a  hundred 
places,  were  also  shown.  Yet  the  curious,  intent  upon  discov- 
ering where  the  lii)les  really  were,  looked  again  and  again,  to 
find  their  closest  inspection  defied. 

We  have  our  virtues,  but  provident  economy  is  not  one  of 


302  LADIES'  BOUDOIR. 

them.     "This  coat,"  said  a  lady,  as  she  handed  a  poor  woman 
an  old  overcoat,  "  will  make  your  husband  a  good  jacket." 

"Thank  you!  but  I  don't  know  as  I  care  to  take  it.  The  fact 
is,  I  never  could  make  over  old  clothes,"  was  the  answer, 
spoken  without  the  slightest  mortification.  Yet  it  is  a  Scotch- 
woman's pride  to  make  "auld  claes  look  a'maist  as  weel's  the 
new,"  and  the  garments  we  renew  she  would  repair. 

Idleness  op  Gii^ls. 

Another  great  mistake  that  many  of  our  girls  are  making, 
and  that  their  mothers  are  either  encouraging  or  allowing  them 
to  make,  is  that  of  spending  their  time  out  of  school  in  idleness 
on  frivolous  amusement,  doing  no  work  to  speak  of,  and  learning 
nothing  about  the  practical  duties  and  serious  cares  of  life.  It 
is  not  only  in  the  wealthier  families  that  girls  are  growing  in- 
dolent and  unpracticed  in  household  work;  indeed,  I  think  that 
more  attention  is  paid  to  the  industrial  training  of  girls  in  the 
wealthier  families  than  in  the  families  of  mechanics  and  people 
in  moderate  circumstances,  where  the  mothers  are  compelled 
to  work  hard  all  the  while. 

"  Within  the  last  week,"  says  one  of  my  correspondents,  "  I 
have  heard  two  mothers,  worthy  women  in  most  respects,  say 
(the  first)  that  her  daughter  never  did  any  sweeping.  Why, 
if  she  wants  to  say  to  her  companions,  '  I  never  swept  a  room 
in  my  life,'  and  takes  comfort  in  it,  let  her  say  it;  and  yet  that 
mother  is  sorrowing  over  her  shortcomings  for  that  very  daugh- 
ter. The  other  said  she  would  not  let  her  daughter  do  any 
thing  in  the  kitchen.  Poor,  deluded  woman!  She  did  it  her- 
self instead." 

The  habits  of  indolence  and  helplessness  that  are  thus  formed 
are  not  the  greatest  evils  resulting  from  this  bad  practice;  the 
selfishness  that  it  fosters  is  the  worst  thing  about  it.  How 
devoid  of  conscience,  how  lacking  in  a  true  sense  of  tenderness, 
or  even  of  justice,  a  girl  must  be  who  will  consent  to  devote  all 
her  time  out  of  school  to  pleasuring  while  her  mother  is  bearing 
all  the  heavy  burdens  of  the  household! 

And  the  foolish  way  in  which  mothers  sometimes  talk  about 
this,  even  in  the  presence  of  their  childreii,  is  mischievous  in 
the  extreme.  "O,  Hattie  is  so  absorbed  with  her  books,  or 
her  crayon,  or  her  embroidery,  that  she  takes  no  interest  in 


A  GIRL'S  WORK  AT  HOME.  303 

househoUl  matters,  and  I  do  not  like  to  call  upon  her*' — as  if 
the  daughter  belonged  to  a  superior  order  of  beings,  and  must 
not  soil  her  hands  or  ruffle  her  temper  with  unnecessary  house- 
work. The  mother  is  the  drudge;  the  daughter  is  the  fine  lady 
for  whom  she  toils.  No  mother  who  suflers  such  a  state  of 
things  as  these  can  preserve  the  respect  of  her  daughter,  which 
no  mother  can  afford  to  lose. 

The  result  of  this  is  to  form  in  the  minds  of  many  gifted  girls 
not  only  a  distaste  for  labor,  but  a  contempt  for  it,  and  at  the 
same  time  a  purpose  to  avoid  it  as  long  as  they  can  live  by  some 
means  or  other. 

There  is  scarcely  one  letter  I  have  received  which  does  not 
mention  this  as  one  of  the  errors  in  the  training  of  our  girls  at 
the  present  day.  It  is  not  universal,  but  it  is  altogether  too 
prevalent.  And  allowing  yourselves  to  grow  up  with  such 
habits  of  indolence  and  such  notions  about  work,  you  are  pre- 
paring yourselves  a  miserable  future. 

p  Gull's  ^oi^k  at  Y}0ME. 

Give  the  girls  a  chance.  They  need  money  and  the  discipline 
of  earning  it  as  much  as  the  boys.  There  are  fewer  employ- 
ments open  to  them.;  they  have  less  chance  for  their  lives.  Help 
them  to  help  themselves.  If  they  have  a  natural  taste  for  any 
particular  work,  educate  them  for  and  let  them  do  it,  even  if  it 
necessitates  the  hiring  of  a  girl  to  take  their  place  in  the  kitchen. 
In  this  way  the  practical  value  of  girls  is  apt  to  be  realized. 
There  is  nothing  so  convincing  as  an  appeal  to  the  pocket-book. 
If  the  daughters  show  no  special  inclination  toward  any  partic 
ular  branch  of  industry  but  to  serve  and  save  at  home,  pay  them 
for  their  work.  It  amounts  to  the  same  in  the  end — you  buy 
their  clothes  for  them,  or  you  pay  them  and  they  make  their 
own  purchases;  in  reality,  their  greatest  gain  is  in  independ- 
ence, in  self-i'eliance,  in  good  judgment  in  purchasing,  and  in 
decision  of  character.  They  are  personally  interested  in  spend- 
ing their  own  earnings  wisely  and  economically,  and  in  making 
every  dollar  do  its  duty.  It  is  not  calculated  to  foster  one's  self- 
respect  to  be  obliged  to  ask  of  a  father  or  mother  for  every  post- 
age-stamp, shoe-lace,  or  box  of  hair-pins;  neither  is  it  pleasant 
to  the  paternal  head  to  be  always  dunned  for  small  sums. 

If  the  daughter's  help  is  not  necessary  at  home,  and  it  is  not 


304  LADIES'  BOUDOIB. 

desirable  that  she  should  go  away  to  "  do  for  herself,"  give  her 
an  opportunity  to  earn  something  in  another  way.  Let  her  run 
the  poultry  department;  help  her  in  starting  the  enterprise,  and 
conducting  it,  even  if  you  have  to  "take  her  note"  for  repay- 
ment. Many  a  weak,  sickly  girl  would  gain  health,  as  well  as. 
wealth,  keeping  bees,  raising  fruits,  or  even  cultivating  a  melon- 
patch.  There  is  hardly  a  hamlet  in  the  State  whei"e  a  girl  might 
not  sell  from  $150  to  $200  worth  of  strawberries,  raspberries, 
currants,  and  cherries  to  those  not  able  or  too  indifierent  to 
raise  them.  With  work  comes  content,  with  content  happiness 
born  of  a  healthy  activity,  and  a  feeling  that  one  is  of  use  in  the 
world,  working  and  receiving  an  equivalent  reward,  able  to 
give,  to  save,  to  spend  of  one's  own  honest  earnings, 

"Bill  fli^p"  on  Daughipbi^s. 

Well,  there  is  a  reason  for  every  thing,  and  a  cause  for  every 
effect;  but  I  don't  know  why  there  are  more  girls  than  boys, 
and  I  wish  somebody  would  tell  me.  Some  folks  say  it  is  a 
sign  of  peace.  The  girls  are  the  smartest,  I  know,  for  they 
have  had  the  most  education.  Before  the  war  the  boys  were 
put  forward  and  the  girls  kept  in  the  background,  but  now  the 
boys  have  to  work,  and  so  the  gii'ls  are  sent  to  school  and  to 
college,  and  the  boys  have  to  help  pay  for  it.  That  is  the  I'eason 
why  the  girls  are  the  smartest,  and  my  fear  is  that  they  are  a 
little  too  smart,  and  won't  marry  these  young  fellows  who  can't 
write  a  little  poetry,  and  don't  know  whether  Byron  wrote 
Shakespeare  or  Shakespeare  Byron.  But  I  reckon  they  will, 
sooner  or  later.  Mrs.  Arp  says  that  the  glials  marry  too  soon, 
anyhow,  and  that  she  don't  want  any  of  hers  to  marry  under 
twenty,  unless  the  offer  is  a  very  splendid  one  in  all  respects. 
I  reckon  that  is  the  reason  she  went  off  at  sweet  sixteen.  But 
I  think  Gibbons  is  mistaken;  the  census  shows  about  as  many 
boy  children  in  Georgia  as  girl  children.  We've  got  six  boys 
and  four  girls,  and  that  is  about  right.  There's  more  anxiety 
about  the  girls.  They  watch  these  young  fellers  mighty  close 
for  fear  of  trouble,  for  the  old  saying  still  holds  good: 

"A  son  is  a  son  till  he  marries  a  wife;    • 
A  daughter  is  a  daughter  all  the  days  of  her  life!" 

It  is  mighty  sad  to  see  a  girl  come  back  to  her  father's  house 


A  LADY'S  SALUTATION.  305 

to  live  after  she  has  been  married  a  year  or  two.  Poor  thing! 
she  never  knew^  what  a  good  home  she  had  until  she  left  it,  and 
the  man  she  trusted  goes  another  way.  That  is  the  wreck  of  a 
life.  No  more  happiness  for  her.  No  wonder  that  parents 
feel  anxious  about  their  daughters,  and  the  daughters  ought  to 
think  and  ponder  a  long  time  before  they  marry.  A  father's 
house  and  a  mother's  love  are  mighty  hard  to  beat.  But  then  a 
happy  marriage  is  the  highest  state  of  happiness,  and  every  girl 
ought  to  look  forward  to  it.  There  are  lots  of  clever  young 
men  in  the  land — young  men  of  good  principles,  and  who  have 
been  raised  by  good  parents.  The  girls  ought  to  mate  with  'em, 
money  or  no  money.  Money  is  a  good  thing,  but  principle  is 
better;  and  if  a  young  feller  has  got  both,  and  don't  drink  nor 
gamble,  and  is  industrious  and  healthy,  why,  he  is  all  right;  and 
if  I  was  a  girl  I  would  put  him  on  probation  and  say,  I  think 

you  are  a  good  man,  but  you  know  I  am  an  angel,  and  if . 

Well,  if  he  seemed  to  doubt  my  being  an  angel,  I  would  just 
tell  him  to  go  hence.  If  a  young  man  don't  look  upon  his  girl 
as  an  angel  before  he  marries,  he  never  will  afterward;  and  if  I 
was  a  girl,  I  would  be  an  angel  as  long  as  I  could, 

fl   LlADY'S  SALUTAJPION. 

A  salutation  may  have  a  great  deal  of  meaning  in  it.  It  may 
say,  "  I  respect  you,  and  I  wish  you  well."  It  may  say,  "  I  love 
you."  It  may  say,  "  I  hate  you."  In  a  crowd,  it  should  simply 
say  the  first.  The  bow  of  a  young  lady  should  be  maidenly, 
quiet,  not  too  demonstrative,  yet  not  cold  nor  forbidding.  The 
salutation  of  a  man  to  a  woman  cannot  be  too  respectful.  It  is 
to  be  feared  that  "old-fashioned  courtesy"  has  no  place  in  our 
fashionable  society.  There  is  either  coldness  or  too  great  fa- 
miliarity. 

The  manners  of  young  women  are  apt  to  be  too  careless. 
They  emulate  the  manners  of  men  of  the  age  too  much,  not  re- 
membering they  should  carry  in  their  gentle  ways  the  good 
manners  of  all  ages.  She  should  remember  that  when  a  woman's 
salutation  ceases  to  be  delicate,  elegant,  and  finished,  she  steps 
down  from  the  throne  and  throws  away  her  scepter.  There  is 
no  salutation,  however,  more  displeasing  than  that  of  a  too 
efflorescent  and  flattering  subserviency.  "  He  bows  too  low," 
should  never  be  said.  Avoid  being  a  snob,  in  private  as  in  a  crowd. 
20 


306  ladies'  boudoir. 

She  Sghoolj-mai^m's  Stop^y. 

A  frosty  chill  was  in  the  air — 
How  plainly  I  i-emember — 

The  bright  autumnal  fires  had  paled, 
Save  here  and  there  an  ember; 

The  sky  looked  hard,  the  hills  were  bare, 

And  there  were  tokens  every-where 
That  it  had  come — November. 

I  locked  the  time-worn  school-house  door, 
The  village  seat  of  learning, 

Across  the  smooth,  well-trodden  path 
My  homeward  footsteps  turning; 

My  heart  a  troubled  question  bore, 

And  in  my  mind,  as  oft  before, 
A  vexing  thought  was  burning. 

"Why  is  it  up-hill  all  the  way?" 
Thus  ran  my  meditations; 
The  lessons  had  gone  wrong  that  day, 
And  I  had  lost  my  patience. 
"  Is  there  no  way  to  soften  care. 
And  make  it  easier  to  bear 

Life's  sorrows  and  vexations?" 

Across  my  pathway  through  the  wood 

A  fallen  tree  was  lying; 
On  this  there  sat  two  little  girls, 

And  one  of  them  was  crying. 
I  heard  her  sob:   "And  if  I  could, 
I'd  get  my  lessons  awful  good. 

But  what's  the  use  of  trying?" 

And  then  the  little  hooded  head 
Sank  on  the  other's  shoulder, 

The  little  weeper  sought  the  arms 
That  opened  to  infold  her; 

Against  the  young  heart,  kind  and  true, 

She  nestled  close,  and  neither  knew 
That  I  was  a  beholder. 


GIBLS  WHO  WEAR  BANGSk  307 

And  then  I  heard — ah!  ne'er  was  known 

Such  judgment  without  malice, 
Nor  queenlier  counsel  ever  heard 

In  senate,  house,  or  palace! — 
"I  should  have  failed  there,  I  am  sure; 
Don't  be  discouraged;  try  once  more. 

And  I  will  help  you,  Alice." 

"And  I  will  help  you."     This  is  how 

To  soften  care  and  grieving; 
Life  is  made  easier  to  bear 

By  helping  and  by  giving. 
Here  was  the  answer  I  had  sought, 
And  I,  the  teacher,  being  taught 

The  secret  of  true  living. 

If  "  I  will  help  you  "  were  the  rule. 

How  changed  beyond  all  measure 
Life  would  become!     Each  heavy  load 

Would  be  a  golden  treasure; 
Pain  and  vexation  be  forgot; 
Hope  would  prevail  in  every  lot. 

And  life  be  only  pleasure. 

GiF^iiS  WHO  ^EAi^  Bangs. 

Bangs  on  a  girl  give  her  an  unruly  look,  like  a  cow  with  a 
board  over  her  face.  You  take  the  gentlest  cow  in  the  world, 
and  put  a  board  over  her  face,  and  turn  her  out  in  a  pasture,  and 
she  gets  the  reputation  of  being  unruly,  and  you  would  swear 
she  would  jump  fences  and  raise  merry  hades,  and  you  wouldn't 
give  so  much  for  her  by  $10,  only  for  food.  It  is  so  with  a  girl. 
If  she  wears  her  hair  high  on  her  forehead,  or  brushed  back,  or 
even  has  frizzes,  and  has  a  good  look,  you  will  go  your  bottom 
dollar  on  her,  and  feel  that  she  is  as  good  as  gold,  and  that  when 
she  tells  her  young  man  that  she  loves  him  there  is  no  discount 
on  it,  and  no  giggling  back;  but  take  the  same  girl  with  her 
front  hair  banged,  and  when  she  looks  at  you,  you  feel  just  as 
though  she  would  hook,  and  you  can't  trust  her.  She  has  a 
fence-jumping  look  that  makes  a  young  man  feel  as  though  he 
wouldn't  be  safe  unless  she  was  tied  hand  and  foot  so  she 
couldn't  get  out  of  the  pasture. 


308  LADIES'  BOUDOIR. 

A  girl  with  bangs  may  try  to  be  good  and  true,  but  it's  awful 
hard  work.  When  she  looks  at  herself  in  the  glass,  and  sees 
the  quarter  of  an  inch  of  forehead,  she  says  to  herself,  "  I  am 
dangerous;  they  want  to  look  out  for  me."  She  thinks  she  is 
all  right,  but  she  is  constantly  doing  that  which  a  girl  who 
w^ears  her  hair  brushed  back  would  not  think  of  doing.  The 
bang  girl  may  belong  to  a  Church,  and  may  try  to  put  on  a  pious 
look  while  the  hymn  is  being  read;  but  she  will  look  out  from 
behind  those  bangs  sidewise  at  some  meek  and  lowly  young 
Christian,  who  is  trying  to  get  his  mind  fixed  on  the  hymn,  and 
he  will  get  his  mind  on  her,  and  it  will  break  him  all  up,  and 
he  won't  know  whether  he  is  singing  "A  Charge  to  Keep  I 
Have,"  or  "  She's  a  Daisy."  The  bang  girl  may  place  her  bangs 
down  on  the  back  of  the  pew  ahead  of  her  during  the  morning 
prayer  and  try  to  be  good,  but  her  corset  will  be  too  tight,  and 
as  she  hitches  around  to  escape  the  pain,  one  eye  will  rise  like 
the  morning-star  over  the  back  of  the  pew,  and  that  eye  will 
catch  the  eye  of  a  young  man  two  seats  to  the  right,  who  is 
trying  to  cover  his  face  with  one  hand  while  he  tries  to  keep 
the  flies  off  the  pomade  on  his  hair  with  the  other,  and  his  in- 
terest in  the  prayer  is  knocked  into  a  cocked  hat. 

The  banging  of  a  girl's  hair  changes  the  whole  nature  of  the 
little  wretch,  and  she  becomes  as  a  gun  that  is  loaded.  You 
take  a  pictux'e  of  "Evangeline,"  and  bang  her  hair,  and  she 
would  look  as  though  she  would  "run  at"  people.  It  is  just 
the  same  with  boys.  You  take  a  nice,  pious  Sunday-school 
boy,  who  can  repeat  300  verses  in  the  New, Testament,  and  cut 
his  hair  with  a  clipper,  and  he  will  look  like  Tug  Wilson. 

LCAGI^ING   DEYBIiOPMBNII. 

The  woman  who  has  always  been  carefully  protected,  whose 
life  has  always  been  bright  and  free  from  care,  may  be  very 
sweet  and  lovable,  but  she  lacks  character.  Gold  in  its  primi- 
tive state  may  be  pure  and  precious,  but  its  real  value  and 
beauty  are  developed  by  the  crucible,  the  hammer,  and  the 
sharpness  of  the  graver's  tools. 

Men  are  less  prone  to  be  unnerved  by  their  fears  than  women. 
Women  are  more  prone  to  be  nerved  to  great  action  by  their 
affection  than  men. 


FOR  THE  GIRLS.  309 

©HE    Sghool-gii^l's  Song. 


» 


Now,  girls,  let  us  this  lesson  learn: 

'Tis  not  in  flowing  curls, 
'Tis  not  in  soft  and  snowy  hands, 

To  make  us  lovely  girls. 

No  glow  of  health  on  blooming  cheek, 

Nor  dimple  on  the  chin, 
Can  long  delight  discerning  minds, 

If  all  go  wrong  within. 

If  pride  in  beauty's  bosom  dwell, 

And  ignorance  be  there, 
A  temper  haughty  or  morose, 

She  cannot  long  seem  fair. 

For  true  love  scorns  her  paltry  charms 

Whose  hollow  heart  is  wrong; 
No  beauty,  void  of  mental  grace, 

Can  hold  her  empire  long. 

But  homely  looks  will  handsome  grow 

Where  virtue  rules  the  soul; 
She  makes  each  feature  noble  look. 

And  love  illumes  the  whole. 

FOF^   THE   GlI^LS. 

Not  long  ago  a  little  pamphlet  was  published,  under  the  title 
of  "Don't,"  in  which  girls  are  told  what  not  to  do.  Some 
writer  now  furnishes  the  following  advice  in  a  positive  form: 

Do  get  up  in  time  for  breakfast. 

Do  sign  your  full  name  to  your  letters. 

Do,  when  you  talk,  keep  your  hands  still. 

Do  attach  as  much  importance  to  your  mind  as  to  your  body. 

Do  be  natural;  a  poor  diamond  is  better  than  a  good  imitation. 

Do  try  to  be  sensible;  it  is  not  a  particular  sign  of  superiority 
to  talk  like  a  fool. 

Do  observe;  the  faculty  of  observation,  well  cultivated,  makes 
practical  men  and  women. 


310  LADIES'  BOUDOIR. 

Do  try  to  remember  where  you  put  your  gloves  and  card-case; 
keep  the  formisr  mended  and  the  latter  filled. 

Do  avoid  causes  of  irritation  in  your  family  circle;  do  reflect 
that  home  is  the  place  in  vv^hich  to  be  agreeable. 

Do,  sometimes  at  least,  allows  your  mother  to  know  better  than 
you  do;  she  was  educated  before  you  were  born. 

Do  put  your  hair-pins  in  so  that  they  will  stay;  it  looks  slov- 
enly, to  say  the  least,  to  see  them  half-dropping  out. 

Do  be  exact  in  money  matters;  every  debt  you  incur  means 
loss  to  some  one,  probably  to  one  less  able  than  you  to  bear  it. 

Do  be  ready  in  time  for  church;  if  you  do  not  respect  yourself 
sufiiciently  to  be  punctual,  respect  the  feelings  of  other  people. 

Do  recollect  that  your  health  is  more  important  than  your 
amusement;  you  can  live  without  one,  but  you'll  die  without 
the  other. 

Do  be  contented;  "  martyrs  "  are  detestable;  a  cheerful,  happy 
spirit  is  infectious;  you  can  carry  it  about  with  you  like  a  sunny 
atmosphere. 

Do  be  truthful;  do  avoid  exaggeration;  if  you  mean  a  mile, 
say  a  mile,  and  not  a  mile  and  a  half;  if  you  mean  one,  say  one, 
and  not  a  dozen. 

Do  try  to  be  accurate,  not  only  for  your  own  sake,  but  for  the 
sake  of  your  sex;  the  incapacity  of  the  female  mind  for  accu- 
racy is  a  standard  argument  against  the  equality  of  the  sexes. 

Do  answer  your  letters  soon  after  they  are  received,  and  do 
try  to  reply  to  them  with  some  relation  to  their  contents;  a 
rambling,  ill-considered  letter  is  a  satire  upon  your  education. 

Do  avoid  whispering;  it  is  as  bad  as  giggling;  both  are  to  be 
condemned;  there  is  no  excuse  for  either  one  of  them.  If  you 
have  any  thing  to  say,  say  it;  if  you  have  not,  do  hold  your 
tongue  altogether — silence  is  golden. 

Do  cultivate  the  habit  of  listening  to  others;  it  will  make  you 
an  invaluable  member  of  society,  to  say  nothing  of  the  advan- 
tage it  will  be  to  you  when  you  marry;  every  man  likes  to  talk 
about  himself;  a  good  listener  makes  a  delightful  wife. 

You  would  think  that  if  our  lips  were  made  of  horn,  and 
stuck  out  a  foot  or  two  from  our  faces,  kisses,  at  any  rate,  would 
be  done  for.  Not  so.  No  creatures  kiss  each  other  so  much  as 
birds. —  Charles  Buxton. 


WHAT  Saved  HIM.  311 

SWO   I<;INDS  OP   GlF^LS. 

There  are  two  kinds  of  girls,  says  the  Home  Visitor: 

One  is  the  kind  that  appears  best  abroad — the  girls  that  are 
good  for  parties,  rides,  visits,  balls,  etc.,  and  whose  chief  de- 
light is  in  such  things. 

The  other  is  the  kind  that  appears  best  at  home — the  girls 
that  are  useful  and  cheering  in  the  dining-room,  sick-room,  and 
all  the  precincts  of  home. 

They  differ  widely  in  character.  One  is  often  a  torment  at 
home,  the  other  a  blessing.  One  is  a  moth,  consuming  every 
thing  about  her;  the  other  is  a  sunbeam,  inspiring  light  and 
gladness  all  around  her  pathway. 

To  which  of  these  classes  do  you  belong? 

^HAip  Saved  I^im. 

A  young  wife  in  Michigan  had  just  settled  in  her  new  home. 
All  seemed  fair  and  promising,  for  she  did  not  know  her  hus- 
band was  a  drunkard.  But  one  night  he  came  home  at  a  very 
late  hour,  and  much  the  worse  of  liquor.  When  he  staggered 
into  the  house,  his  wife,  who  was  very  much  shocked,  told  him 
he  was  sick,  and  must  lie  down  at  once;  and  in  a  moment  br 
two  he  was  comfortable  on  the  sofa,  in  a  drunken  sleep.  His 
face  was  reddish-purple,  and  altogether  he  was  a  pitiable- 
looking  object. 

The  doctor  was  sent  for  in  haste,  and  mustard  applied  to  the 
patient's  feet  and  hands.  When  the  doctor  came  and  felt  his 
pulse,  and  examined  him,  and  found  he  was  only  drunk,  he 
said,  "He  will  be  all  right  in  the  morning." 

But  the  wife  insisted  that  he  was  very  sick,  and  that  severe 
remedies  must  be  used. 

"You  must  shave  his  bead,  and  apply  blisters,"  she  urged, 
"  or  I  will  .send  for  some  one  who  will." 

The  husband's  head  was  accordingly  shaved  close,  and  blis- 
ters were  applied. 

The  patient  lay  all  night  in  a  drunken  sleep,  and,  notwith- 
standing the  blisters  were  eating  into  his  flesh,  it  was  not  till 
near  morning  that  he  began  to  beat  about,  disturbed  by  pain. 
About  daylight  he  woke  up  to  the  most  uncomfortable  con- 
sciousness of  blistered  asfonies. 


312        '  LADIES'  BOUDOIR. 

"What  does  this  mean?"  he  said,  putting  his  hands  to  his 
bandaged  head. 

"Lie  still!  you  mustn't  stir,"  said  his  wife;  "you've  been  sick." 

"I  am  not  sick." 

"O  yes,  you  are;  you  have  the  brain  fever.  We  have  w^orked 
with  you  all  night." 

"  I  should  think  you  had,"  groaned  the  poor  victim.  "  What's 
the  matter  with  my  feet?  " 

"They  are  blistered." 

"Well,  I  am  better  now;  take  off  the  blisters — do,"  he 
pleaded  piteously. 

He  was  in  a  most  uncomfortable  state — his  head  covered  with 
sores,  and  his  hands  and  feet  still  worse. 

"Dear,"  he  said,  groaning,  "if  I  should  ever  get  sick  in  this 
way  again,  don't  be  alarmed  and  send  for  a  doctor;  and,  above 
all,  don't  blister  me  again." 

"O,  indeed  I  will!  All  that  saved  you  were  the  blisters. 
And  if  you  have  another  such  spell  I  shall  be  more  frightened 
than  ever;  for  the  tendency,  I  am  sure,  is  to  apoplexy,  and  from 
the  next  attack  you  are  likely  to  die  unless  the  severest  measures 
are  used." 

He  made  no  further  defense.  Suffice  to  say  that  he  never 
had  another  attack. 

©AIDING   DlNNBI^   IFO   SCHOOL. 

To  mothers,  aunties,  or  sisters  who  do  up  the  school-luncheon 
for  the  youngsters,  pray  make  it  as  attractive  in  appearance  as 
possible.  There  is  nothing  very  inviting  about  a  thick  piece  of 
bread  and  butter  and  a  cookie,  all  rolled  in  a  piece  of  coarse 
brown  paper,  washed  down  by  a  drink  from  the  cup  that  "goes 
the  rounds."  Such  a  lunch  will  often  impair  the  appetite  of  a 
fastidious  or  delicate  child,  and  he  will  go  without  it  rather  than 
eat  it.  A  little  care  in  the  cutting  of  the  bread,  the  doing  up  of 
the  cookies  in  white  paper;  the  sauce  or  custard  put  into  a  pretty 
cup,  and  all  wrapped  in  a  clean,  white  napkin,  within  a  pretty 
lunch-basket,  will,  by  the  pleasure  it  gives  the  child,  well  repay 
the  extra  care  and  thought. 

Teach  the  girls  God  made  them  in  his  own  image,  and  no 
amount  of  tight-lacing  will  improve  the  model. 


CONVERSATION.  813 

^ONYBI^SAIiION. 


BY  MRS.  LOUISA  C.  TUTHJLL. 


Talk  to  women,  talk  to  women  as  much  as  you  can.  This  is  the  best 
school.  This  is  the  way  to  gain  fluency — because  you  need  not  care 
what  you  say,  and  had  better  not  be  sensible. — Ditraeli. 

It  is  not  very  unfair  to  believe  that  most  young  men  have 
adopted  this  motto  as  their  own;  at  least,  their  conversation  in 
ladies'  society  generally  indicates  that  they  think  they  "had  bet- 
ter not  be  sensible."  If  young  ladies  are  flippant  and  silly,  may 
it  not  arise  from  a  similar  desire  to  please?  It  is  morally  certain 
that  the  tone  of  conversation  will  not  be  much  improved  until 
the  taste  of  your  superiors  is  more  correct. 

Every  lady  thinks  it  complimentary  to  have  sensible,  rational 
conversation  addressed  to  her;  it  proves  that  her  mind  is  not 
considered  vastly  inferior.  She  need  not  say  much;  a  good 
listener  is  invaluable;  and  Bacon  says,  "The  honorablest  part 
of  talk  is  to  give  the  occasion."  Let  us  learn  further  from  his 
wisdom:  "/SAe  that  questioneth  much  shall  learn  much,  and  con- 
tent much,  but  especially  if  she  apply  her  questions  to  the  skill 
of  the  persons  whom  she  asketh;  for  she  shall  give  them  occa- 
sion to  please  themselves  in  speaking,  and  herself  shall  contin- 
ually gather  knowledge."  Shakespeare  makes  Gratiano  say, 
"  Silence  is  only  commendable  in  a  neat's  tongue  dried."  But 
a  severer  satirist  on  the  sex  says: 

"A  dearth  of  words  a  woman  need  not  fear. 
But  'tis  a  task  indeed  to  learn  to  hear." 

The  solemn  fop,  the  flippant  coxcomb,  the  prosing  pedant,  all 
may  like  "to  please  themselves"  by  prating  to  you,  each  in  his 
peculiar  style;  and  to  "apply  questions  to  the  skill"  of  this  cat- 
egory requires  more  than  the  wisdom  of  a  Bacon;  and  to  listen 
to  them,  "not  poppy  nor  mandragora"  can  be  so  consummately 
narcotic. 

Flattery,  censoriousness,  slander,  sarcasm,  egotism,  exaggera- 
tion, tittle-tattle — dark  catalogue!  Yet  of  all  these  conversa- 
tional vices  ladies,  young  and  old,  have  been  accused.  Flattery 
sometimes  arises  from  too  strong  a  desire  to  please,  without  any 
baser  motive.  Compliments  are  not  always  wrong;  they  may 
come  from  an  affectionate  heart  that  can  with  difficulty  conceal 


314  LADIES'  BOUDOIR. 

its  sentiments  and  emotions.  When  there  is  not  the  slightest 
deviation  from  truth,  and  when  nothing  is  sought  or  to  be 
gained,  they  should  be  given  very  sparingly — not  entirely  pro- 
scribed. 

Flattery  implies  an  intention  to  deceive,  to  mislead  v^ith  re- 
gard to  api^earance  or  merit,  either  to  gain  favor  or  to  make 
sport  of  another's  vain  credulity.  It  is  a  base,  a  mean,  and 
craven  spirit  that  offers  this  incense  at  any  shrine.  Every  lady 
should  have  too  much  self-respect  to  offer,  or  to  receive,  such 
incense. 

Censoriousness  brings  so  much  unpopularity  to  those  vv^ho  in- 
dulge in  it  that  few^  are  willing  to  appear  so  unamiable.  But 
there  are  some  fine  ladies  who  complain, 

"Folks  are  so  awkward,  things  so  unpolite, 
They're  elegantly  pained  from  morn  till  night." 

Every  thing  appears  to  them  as  distorted  as  their  own  faces  in 
a  cracked  mirror.  They  are  careful  to  suggest  to  their  friends 
every  defect  that  they  discover  in  disposition  and  character,  and 
vastly  ingenious  and  quick-sighted  in  the  discovery.  The  bright 
side  of  character  has  no  charms  for  them.  Instead  of  depicting 
their  acquaintances  as  Qiieen  Elizabeth  would  have  her  face 
painted — without  shadow — their  censoriousness  casts  every  feat- 
ure into  the  deepest  shade. 

But  censure  of  the  present  is  far  less  malicious  than  slander  of 
the  absent.  False,  treacherous,  hateful  slander,  whose  wounds 
no  balm  can  cure!  In  times  gone  by  the  gentler  sex  wei'e  ac- 
cused of  a  strong  predilection  for  that  "  sweetener  to  a  female 
feast;"  but  in  days  of  better  education  and  less  tea-drinking 
let  us  hope  that  they  are  not  so  culpable.  God's  holy  law  has 
protected  "our  neighbor"  from  this  violation  of  his  rights,  and 
all  mankind  cry  out  against  him  who  "filches  St.  good  name." 
Even  in  the  most  retired  moment,  with  your  tried  and  faithful 
friend,  beware  of  whispering  one  word  to  injure  the  reputation 
of  a  fellow-being.  Condemn  vice  by  word  and  deed,  and  have 
the  moral  courage  to  avoid  the  society  of  the  vicious,  whatever 
be  their  rank  and  station.  You  are  partakers  in  others'  sins  if  you 
do  not  thus  openly  show  detestation  of  crime.  But  sully  not 
the  reputation  of  the  virtuous  by  the  venomous  breath  of  slan- 
der; it  will  not  pass  away  like  your  breath  upon  the  mirror, 


CONVERSATION.  316 

leaving  it  bright  and  pure;  it  will  go  out  into  a  world  of  wick- 
edness, and  rest  a  dark  cloud  upon  their  once  fair  fame. 

Vanity  leads  to  unprofitable  conversation.  Hour  after  hour 
is  oftentimes  wasted  upon  the  discussion  of  the  color  of  a  rib- 
bon, or  the  shape  of  a  shoe.  The  dress  of  the  fashionable  and 
the  unfashionable  is  a  most  fertile  topic  of  conversation,  giving 
zest  to  the  vapid  hours  of  the  unintellectual.  Who  doubts  that 
„due  attention  to  dress  must  be  rendered?  But  the  interminable 
discussions  to  which  it  leads,  to  the  exclusion  of  better  subjects, 
lowers  the  intellect,  and  tells  too  plainly  the  ignoble  aim  of 
female  vanity — to  spread  every  sail  to  catch  the  breeze  of  ad- 
miration. 

Sarcasm  is  a  dangerous  weapon,  often  recoiling  upon  the 
wielder  with  keen  and  biting  stroke.  A  dull  weapon  will 
wound  if  directed  to  a  vulnerable  spot,  and  those  who  have 
little  sense  and  no  wit  can  be  spitefully  severe.  Of  such  Han- 
nah More  says:  "They  exhibit  no  small  satisfaction  in  ridicul- 
ing women  of  high  intellectual  endowments,  while  they  exclaim 
with  affected  humility  and  much  real  envy  that '  they  are  thank- 
ful they  are  not  geniuses.'  " 

Woe  to  the  woman  who  gains  the  reputation  of  wit!  She  is 
expected  never  to  open  her  mouth  to  speak  without  dropping 
pearls  and  diamonds.  If  her  wit  be  not  chastised  into  meek 
subordination,  she  is  feared  by  one  sex  and  hated  by  the  other. 
Even  although  it  be  thus  chastised,  there  are  many  who  look 
upon  it  in  its  harmless  playfulness  as  they  would  upon  the  gam- 
bols of  an  uncaged  tigress. 

But  of  all  faults  in  conversation,  egotism  is  the  most  common, 
only  because  pardoned  by  all  those  who  indulge  in  it  them- 
selves. A  tete-a-tete  between  two  egotists  is  a  laughable  strife 
for  the  balance  of  power.  The  eagerness  of  each  to  maintain 
the  ground,  the  volubility  of  the  one  who  gains  it  for  a  time, 
the  anxiety  of  the  other  to  seize  the  first  faltering  pause,  impa- 
tience overcomes  at  length  all  politeness,  and  both  talk  till  one 
has  fairly  talked  the  other  down.  In  society  the  thoughts  of 
these  egotists  cannot  by  any  means  be  diverted  from  themselves. 
It  appears  as  though  there  were  not  a  spot  in  the  universe  that 
fond  self-love  did  not  associate  in  some  degree  with  their  in- 
terests. 

"Conversation  is  the  music  of  the  mind,  an  intellectual  or- 


316  LADIES'  BOUDOIR. 

chestra,  where  all  the  instruments  should  bear  a  part,  but  where 
none  should  play  together." 

The  silly  tittle-tattle  of  meddlesome  busybodies  is  almost  too 
contemptible  to  be  noticed.     "They  live  very  expensively  at 

Mr.  B 's;  so  their  cook  told  our  waiter.     They  spend  for  the 

table  alone  forty  dollars  a  week,  week  in  and  out,  through  the 
year."  "What  do  they  have  for  dessert.'*"  "Creams  and  ices, 
fruits  and  pastry,  sweetmeats  and  jellies — every  thing  in  its  sea- 
son."    "Well,  then,  I  think  they  must  pinch  in  wine  or  meats, 

for,  after  all,  that  is  no  great  sum."     "  Mr.  G is  said  to  be 

engaged  to  Miss  K ;  is  it  so?"     "I  think  it  must  be,  for  they 

walked  home  from  church  together  last  Sunday,  and  she  looked 
very  lovingly  upon  him." 

"Stale,  flat,  and  unprofitable"  stuff!  yet  this  makes  up  the 
sum-total  of  the  conversation  of  a  class  of  young  ladies  who 
have  much  leisure,  few  intellectual  resources,  and  little  moral 
principle. 

Girls  often  bring  from  the  boarding-school  a  sort  of  school- 
slang  w^hich  they  have  sported  among  themselves,  and  which 
appears  as  awkwardly  in  society  as  would  the  red  morocco 
shoes  that  delighted  their  infant  fancy.  Others,  who  have  been 
educated  at  home,  introduce  the  by-words  and  pet  phrases 
which  are  playfully  employed,  and  may  be  tolerated,  in  the 
family  circle,  but  which  it  is  extremely  ill-bred  to  use  before 
strangers.  Indeed,  every  thing  that  savors  of  cant,  slang,  and 
vulgarism  should  be  most  carefully  avoided.  Young  men  at 
college  become  familiar  with  a  set  of  words  which  the  uniniti- 
ated need  a  new  vocabulary  to  understand.  Every  profession 
and  employment  has  its  cant.  Now,  if  all  these  were  brought 
into  society,  what  a  Babylonish  jargon  should  we  hear!  By 
common  consent,  every  thing  of  this  kind  is  pronounced  in  bad 
taste;  but  so  inveterate  are  habits  that  even  refined  people  will 
betray  their  pursuits  and  their  places  of  residence  by  local  and 
professional  cant.  And  often  the  habit  of  exaggeration  is  ac- 
quired at  school,  where  sweetest,  superlatively  beautiful,  deli- 
cious, the  most  beautiful,  the  most  hateful,  most  horrible,  etc., 
are  epithets  with  which  all  conversation  is  plentifully  spiced. 
Truthfulness  is  thus  endangered,  and  although  there  is  no  inten- 
tion to  deceive,  exaggeration  is  a  species  of  falsity,  morally 
wrong. 


CONVERSATION.  317 

There  is  a  style  of  conversation  wanting  in  dazzling  brill- 
iancy, and  perhaps  in  light  and  graceful  playfulness,  but  which 
will  better  satisfy  reason  and  conscience,  and  accords  better 
with  the  dignified  and  rational  character  of  a  well-educated 
American  woman.  Though  not  as  amusing,  it  is  characterized 
by  more  truthfulness  and  kindliness.  Sacred  subjects  are  never 
treated  with  lightness  or  unholy  familiarity;  vices  are  not  soft- 
ened down  before  the  roue  into  innocent  gayeties,  very  pardon- 
able in  wealthy  young  men;  expletives  bordering  upon  profane- 
ness  do  not  give  it  pungency,  nor  indelicate  allusions  sully  its 
purity, 

"  She  openeth  her  mouth  with  wisdom,  and  in  her  tongue  is 
the  law  of  kindness."  This  is  what  gives  to  conversation  its 
crowning  excellence — the  law  of  kindness,  the  philosopher's 
stone  that  transmutes  all  to  gold.  Thoughts  breathed  forth 
from  a  warm,  true  heart — a  heart  forgetting  selfish  interests  in  a 
generous  sympathy  with  others — find  a  ready  ear. 

Madame  de  Stael  was  so  fond  of  conversation  that  it  was 
misery  for  her  to  live  out  of  Paris;  for  there  only,  in  her  esti- 
mation, could  any  thing  deserving  the  name  of  conversation  be 
enjoyed.  Happily,  American  women  know  little  of  conversa- 
tion as  a  fine  art,  and  therefore  seldom  talk  for  display.  Al- 
though the  just  demands  of  society  often  call  them  from  their 
own  firesides,  may  their  sweetest,  dearest  enjoyments  be  there; 
may  they  ever  find  home  a  sphere  wide  enough  for  sprightly, 
rational,  intellectual  conversation,  that,  whenever  they  mingle 
with  larger  circles,  it  may  be  easy,  useful,  cheerful,  and  agree- 
able. 

Burns,  going  into  church  one  Sunday,  and  finding  it  diflRcult 
to  procure  a  seat,  was  kindly  invited  by  a  young  lady  into  her 
pew.  The  sermon  being  upon  the  terrors  of  the  law,  and  the 
preacher  being  particularly  severe  in  his  denunciation  of  sin- 
ners, the  lady,  who  was  very  attentive,  became  much  agitated. 
Burns,  on  perceiving  it,  wrote  with  his  pencil  on  a  blank  leaf 
of  her  Bible  the  following: 

"Fair  maid,  you  need  not  take  the  hint. 
Nor  idle  texts  pursue; 
'Twas  only  sinners  that  he  meant, 
Not  angels  such  as  you." 


318  ladies'  boudoir. 

She  ^ish-bonb. 


BY  RUTH  HALL. 


Slender  and  shining,  prophetic  bone, 

We  pulled  it  the  future  to  divine; 
Her  bare  pink  palm,  the  bit  in  my  own. 

Told  that  wish  and  wish-bone  both  were  mine. 

"  What  did  you  ask  for?"  whispered  my  Rose, 

Looking  up  shyly  w^ith  eyes  so  true. 
"I  wished,"  I  answered,  drawing  her  close, 
"The  woman  I  win  might  look  like  you — 

"  Her  eyes  as  brown  as  a  forest  brook, 
Her  cheek  as  pink  as  a  sea-shell's  tint, 
A  tender  mouth,  and  a  saucy  look, 

And  pale  brown  hair  with  a  golden  glint — 

"  In  short,  that  my  future  wife  might  be 
You,  dear  little  Rose,  and  only  you." 
Hiding  her  face  in  my  breast,  said  she, 
"Isn't  it  funny? — I  wished  that,  too." 

r^OW  TO   Sl^EAT  A   r^USBAND. 

A  spicy  writer  has  the  following  sensible  advice:  "The  first 
thing  to  be  done  is  to  catch  him.  Many  a  good  husband  is 
spoiled  in  the  cooking.  Some  women  keep  them  in  hot  water, 
while  others  freeze  them  w^ith  conjugal  coolness;  some  smother 
them  with  contention,  and  still  others  keep  them  in  a  pickle  all 
their  lives.  These  women  serve  them  with  tongue-sauce.  Now, 
it  is  not  to  be  supposed  that  husbands  will  be  tender  and  good 
if  treated  this  way;  -but  they  are,  on  the  contrary,  very  delicious 
when  managed  as  follows:  Get  a  large  jar,  called  the  jar  of 
carefulness,  which  all  good  wives  have  on  hand;  place  your 
husband  in  it,  and  place  him  near  the  fire  of  conjugal  love;  let 
the  fire  be  pretty  hot,  especially  let  it  be  clear;  above  all,  let  the 
heat  be  constant;  cover  him  over  with  spices  of  pleasantry,  and 
if  you  add  kisses  and  other  confections,  let  them  be  accompanied 
with  a  sufficient  portion  of  secrecy,  mixed  with  prudence  and 
moderation. 


sweet  sixteen.  819 

Sweet  Sixteen. 

Wise  men,  ^ages,  gypsies  too, 
Tell  me  now  and  tell  me  true; 
What,  I  ask  you,  does  it  mean 
When  a  girl  is  "sweet  sixteen?" 

List,  and  you  shall  hear,  young  man; 
'Tis  something  all  should  learn  who  can; 
You  shall  know  just  what  we  mean 
When  we  speak  of  "sweet  sixteen." 

You  may  meet  her  on  the  street — 
See  those  little,  dainty  feet; 
See  the  graceful,  willowy  form, 
The  little  hand  so  plump  and  warm; 
See  the  hair  with  golden  sheen — 
That  go  to  make  up  "  sweet  sixteen." 

See  the  peach-bloom  cheek  so  fair, 
And  the  lips  so  ripe  and  rare; 
See  the  roguish  look  she  cast 
On  that  youth  who  just  now  passed. 
That  sort  of  thing  has  always  been 
A  little  way  of  "  sweet  sixteen." 

Teeth  like  Orient  pearls  so  white; 
A  voice  like  music,  soft  and  light; 
Eyes  of  purest,  deepest  blue. 
Like  modest  violets  under  dew; 
Hair  of  silken,  golden  thread, 
Rippling  o'er  the  dainty  head. 
Soon  you'll  grasp  just  what  we  mean 
When  we  speak  of  "sweet  sixteen." 

Call  her  by  what  name  you  please — 
Edith,  Ethel,  or  Elise — 
Before  you're  gray  you'll  know,  I  ween, 
When  a  girl  is  "  sweet  sixteen." 

The  happiest  women,  like  the  happiest  nations,  have  no  his- 
tory.— George  Eliot. 


320  LADIES'  BOUDOIR. 

CQaIDENS   flGAINSJr   05IDOWS. 


A  PetUion  Signed  by  Sixteen  Young  Women  a  Century  and  a  Half  Ago. 


In  the  records  of  the  office  of  the  Secretary  of  State,  at 
Columbia,  S.  C,  is  the  following  petition^  bearing  date  1733, 
addressed  to  the  Governor  of  South  Carolina,  and  signed  by 
sixteen  maidens: 

"  The  humble  petition  of  all  the  Maids  whose  Names  are  underwritteu: 

"Whereas,  we,  the  humble  petitioners,  are  at  iircscnt  in  a 
'very  melancholy  condition  of  mind,  considering  how  all  the 
bachelors  are  blindly  captured  by  widows,  and  we  arc  thereby 
neglected;  in  consequence  of  this  our  request  is  that  your  Ex- 
cellency will,  for  the  future,  order  that  no  widow  i^resume  to 
marry  any  young  man  until  the  maids  are  provided  for,  or  else 
pay  each  of  them  a  fine  for  satisfaction  of  invading  our  liberties, 
and  likewise  a  fine  to  be  levied  on  all  bachelors  as  shall  be  mar- 
ried to  widows.  The  great  disadvantage  it  is  to  us  maids  is  that 
the  widows,  by  their  forwai'd  carriage,  do  snap  up  the  young 
men,  and  have  the  vanity  to  think  their  merits  beyond  ours, 
which  is  a  great  imposition  to  us,  who  ought  to  have  the  pref- 
erence. This  is  humbly  recommended  to  your  Excellency's 
consideration,  and  we  hope  you  will  permit  no  further  insults. 
And  we  poor  maids,  in  duty  bound,  will  ever  pray,"  etc. 

Female  Sogieify. 

The  following  remarks  come  with  peculiar  force  from  one  of 
such  querulous  and  unconnubial  habits  as  John  Randolph: 
"  You  know  my  opinion  of  female  society;  without  it  we  should 
degenerate  into  brutes.  This  observation  applies  with  tenfold 
force  to  young  men  and  those  who  are  in  the  prime  of  man- 
hood; for,  after  a  certain  time  of  life,  the  literary  man  makes  a 
shift  (a  poor  one,  I  grant)  to  do  without  the  society  of  ladies. 
To  a  young  man  nothing  is  so  important  as  a  spirit  of  devotion 
(next  to  his  Creator)  to  some  amiable  woman,  whose  image 
may  occupy  his  heart  and  guard  it  from  the  pollution  that  besets 
it  on  all  sides. 

"A  man  ought  to  choose  his  wife  as  Mrs.  Primrose  did  her 
wedding-gown — for  qualities  that  will '  wear  well.'     One  thing, 


I  Wallner  ."-'cij.p 


THE  DECILARATION. 


?.  'THE  CORNUCOPIA- 


at  k 

pleasures.  A  Newt<n 
in  study;  a  man  of  lit' 
ful  auxiliary;  butama. 
around  him,  to  cherish  air 

^HB  : 

♦        Our  engraving  presents 

i;!:Mtii   ■  "         ■•     woniar.' 

iic;;  ^  •:.  ,1  other  w    , 

surpa&55e<K     But  as  the  deeper  etn 
S       r  goes  out,  as  God  means  it  &]. 
lent  of  her  life,  she  feels  that  : 
for  her  sister  to  share  her  confide, 
comes,   hardly    anticipated,   yet   i 
watched  for,  she  hastens  to  her  bo 
in  privacy  and  read  the  livinjir  thou  . 
words  upon  its  page9,  and  ask  hci   ... 
sorbed  in  her  own  commtmings,  she  ht 
her  sister,  whose  cur- 
prompts  hn  f<.  (].,  V  ■ 
imprope; 


•nt 


imtil  they  find  little  in  common  i 

i^OINiHED  fiDVIGl. 

-\o  woman  who  has  care  for  hf*v 
he  seen  on  the  streets  or  in  p; 
ducting  herself  in  any  manner   . 
or  subject  her  to  comment  or  ■ 
No  one  who  cares  for 

tlcct,  or  will  realize  th.  _. 

subject  of  remarks  w  strangers  c 

en  or  their  r. 

<  and  know  r    . 

■n 


HE    U/. 

m'tation 


'.o  re- 

^  ine  the 

our  young 

ering  com- 

the  street- 


322  LADIES'  BOUDOIR. 

in  "Mother  Hubbards,"  or  similar  undress,  the  experiment 
would  never  be  repeated;  nor  would  they  ever  permit  anv  one 
to  clutch  their  arm  like  a  policeman  "  running  in  a  prisoner." 
No  true  woman  ever  allows  that — she  takes  the  arm  of  her  es- 
cort, and  doesn't  submit  hers  to  a  clutch.  These  are  little  things, 
but  life  is  made  up  of  little  things;  and  as  the  bloom  on  the 
peach  or  the  down  on  a  butterfly  once  gone  is  gone  forever,  so 
it  is  with  the  innate,  indescribable  delicacy  and  shrinking  mod- 
esty of  woman. 

^OMAN'S  I^ONOI^. 
One  evening  Garibaldi  was  seated  in  the  marble  corridor 
which  ran  in  front  of  a  hotel  in  Lima,  drinking  coffee  and  talk- 
ing with  his  friend,  St.  Arnaud,  who  was  a  French  refugee  and 
teacher  of  music;  and  he  said,  among  other  things,  that  all  such 
rubbish  as  the  o^^eras  of  "  Lucrezia  Borgia,"  "II  Trovatore," 
"  La  Traviata,"  and  others,  were  a  disgrace  to  music.  He  used 
s6me  very  strong  expressions  about  certain  women,  and  of  the 
men  who  had  told  their  infamous  story  in  music.  At  this  point 
there  came  to  the  table  a  butterfly  Frenchman  in  yellow  kid 
gloves,  a  large  Havana  cigar,  a  bright,  shining  hat  from  Paris, 
and  a  walking-cane  containing  a  dagger.  The  Fi-enchman,  who 
knew  St.  Arnaud.  took  part  in  the  conversation,  and  made  some 
observations  about  women  generally,  which  drew  from  Gari- 
baldi the  request  that  he  would  not  repeat  those  observations. 
The  poor  fool,  not  knowing  whom  he  had  to  deal  with,  repeated 
his  folly,  and  added  one  or  two  commonplace  sayings,  on  which 
our  sailor  visitor,  in  his  red  shirt  and  a  sweet  smile  on  his  lips, 
told  him  to  "  shut  his  mouth,  or  he  would  box  his  ears."  The 
offensive  things  were  repeated.  Garibaldi  quietly  rose  and  went 
to  carry  out  his  fatherly  threat,  on  which  the  French  fool  drew 
out  the  dagger  from  his  stick.  The  stick  was  seized  by  Gari- 
baldi and  used  unspai-ingly  on  the  poor  Frenchman's  shins,  who 
went  away  in  search  o^  a  friend.  The  friend  soon  after  ap- 
peared, and  delivered  a  formal  challenge  to  the  man  in  the  red 
shirt,  who  exclaimed:  "Very  well;  I,  then,  have  the  choice  of 
weapons.  Tell  your  friend  to  bring  his  sword-stick.  He  shall 
take  the  iron,  I  the  wood;  and  I  promise  him  this,  that  I  will 
only  flog  him  on  the  back."  Of  course  it  soon  became  known 
to  the  French  butterfly  who  the  man  in  the  red  shirt  was,  and 
of  course  the  foolish  fellow  was  spared  a  thrashing. 


A  CONTRAST  IN  TOILETS.  823 

rtJOMAN'S    IN'FBGI^I'PY. 


BY  MARY  A.  OAY. 


Before  a  Scottish  criminal  court  a  young  girl  is  on  trial  for 
her  life.  The  testimony  has  been  of  such  a  nature  that  her  con- 
demnation is  sure,  unless  an  affirmative  answer  can  be  given  to 
one  question  about  to  be  propounded  to  her  only  sister.  Fully 
aware  of  the  momentous  issues  at  stake,  that  sister,  although 
her  heart  is  full  of  affection  and  grief  for  the  unfortunate  pris- 
oner, never  swerves  from  the  truth.  Not  to  save  Effie's  life 
will  Jeanie  Deans  tell  a  falsehood.  Who  does  not  admire  the 
moral  sublimity  of  this  heroine  of  truth?  and  who  that  has  con- 
templated this  scene  can  wonder  at  the  self-sacrifice  by  which 
Jeanie  Deans  secured  from  the  Crown  her  sister's  pardon? 

But  it  is  not  in  works  of  fiction  only  that  we  find  instances 
of  unswerving  integrity.  History  and  biography  furnish  us 
with  illustrious  examples  of  men  and  women  whose  immortal 
names  were  not  born  to  die;  and  in  contemplating  the  moral 
beauty  and  sublimity  of  character  to  which  they  attained,  our 
hearts  are  strengthened  and  our  resolves  are  renewed  to  live, 
even  as  they  lived,  in  adherence  to  principle  and  devotion  to  duty. 

fl   ^ONTI^ASIP    IN    ©OIIiBinS. 

On  a  High  Bridge  car  the  other  day  the  passengers  were 
afforded  an  opportunity  of  looking  upon  a  picture  of  expendi- 
ture without  taste,  in  contrast  with  one  of  taste  with  little  outlay 
of  money.  A  lady  entered  the  car  who  had  manifestly  fallen  a 
victim  to  the  crushed-strawberry  fever — a  strawberry  satin  dress 
of  very  rich  quality  tightly  encasing  her  portly  form.  She  car- 
ried a  feverish-looking  parasol,  from  beneath  whose  folds  glinted 
flashes  of  gold  as  bright  as  the  sun's  rays  which  streamed  in 
through  the  half-open  windows.  A  strawberry  hat  with  straw- 
berry plumes  capi^ed  the  ruddy  climax,  and  all.  in  keeping  with 
the  face  of  the  panting,  perspiring  lady,  which  was  aglow  with 
a  fierceness  of  color  of  which  crushed  strawberry  gives  but  the 
faintest  intimation.  The  glowing  attire  and  the  evident  discom- 
fort of  the  rubicund  wearer  had  its  natural  sympathetic  effect 
upon  her  fellow-passengers.  The  car  soon  grew  hotter,  and  a 
hue  of  strawberry  seemed  to  pervade  the  scene,  while  the  coun- 


324  LADIES'  BOUDOIR. 

tenance  of  the  lady  gradually  lapsed  into  an  almost  alarming 
tint  of  terra  cotta. 

Presently  the  car-door  opened,  and  two  ladies  carrying  tiny 
lunch-baskets  came  in,  who  were  evidently  on  a  little  pleasure- 
trip  for  the  day.  At  the  sight  of  these  two  there  was  at  once 
a  noticeable  change  in  the  temperature  of  the  car,  and  an  ex- 
pression of  relief  and  pleasure  seemed  to  light  up  every  coun- 
tenance. One  of  the  ladies — the  younger  of  the  two — wore  a 
crisp,  fresh  French  lawn  of  white,  dotted  with  small,  pale 
mauve  flowers.  Over  her  shoulders  was  a  dainty  little  shoulder- 
cape  of  the  same,  edged  with  lace,  and  fastened  in  front  with  a 
knot  of  violet  ribbons  matching  those  which  held  the  simple 
but  exceedingly  graceful  drapings  of  her  skirt.  Upon  her  head 
she  wore  a  broad-brimmed  hat,  trimmed  with  lace  and  a  small 
cluster  of  violets.  Her  hands  were  encased  in  a  pair  of  trim- 
fitting,  white,  lisle-thread  gloves,  and  she  carried  a  parasol  of 
plain  white  pongee. 

The  other  lady  wore  a  dress  of  pale  nun's-gray  linen,  braided 
in  white.  Her  gypsy  hat  was  of  gray  straw,  trimmed  with  gray 
lace  and  a  cluster  of  pink  crushed  roses.  Gray  gloves  and  a 
gray  pongee  parasol,  lined  with  pink,  completed  this  plain  but 
most  tasteful  dress.  Thirty  dollars  would  cover  the  entire  ex- 
pense of  the  combined  toilets  of  these  two — a  sum  which  lady 
number  one  possibly  gave  for  her  strawberry  bonnet,  or  for  the 
making  of  her  costly  dress, 

OYBI^WOI^I^   flMONG  ^OMEN. 

One  way  in  which  women  ai'e*  overworked  by  their  own 
fault — a  sin  of  ignorance  frequently — is  in  use  of  foolish  cloth- 
ing. We  are  all  more  or  less  in  bondage  here,  for  woman's 
dress  is  radically  wrong.  It  is  a  weight  and  a  hinderance  every- 
where. Clothing  devised  to  suit  the  needs  of  the  human  body 
would  be  much  more  easily  made  and  taken  care  of,  and  it 
would  give  a  woman  freer  movement,  greater  ease  and  comfort 
about  her  work  and  play,  and  would  be  an  aid  to  good  health 
rather  than,  as  now,  a  drag  upon  her  strength.  But  a  genuine 
reform  cannot  be  made  by  any  one  woman,  for  it  awaits  the  de- 
velopment of  public  opinion.  But  cannot  we  all  lend  a  hand 
here  and  say,  on  all  proper  occasions,  that  woman's  dress  is 
absurd,  and  inconvenient,  and  unhealthful,  and  that  we  wish  for 


BEADING.  32& 

something  better?  Most  of  us  can  put  less  work  and  care  upon 
our  trimmings,  and  none  of  us  need  wear  a  trained  skirt,  or  one 
that  touches  the  floor.  We  may  all  wear  loose  and  warm  cloth- 
ing, and  bear  the  weight  upon  our  shoulders  rather  than  over 
the  hips.  Various  female  weaknesses  are  supposed  to  be  caused 
by  active  labor,  by  much  standing  upon  the  feet,  by  much  climb- 
ing of  stairs  in  the  pursuit  of  one's  daily  industry.  They  may 
be  aggravated  by  these  causes  after  they  have  been  once  in- 
duced; but  I  have  serious  doubts  whether  these  weaknesses  arc 
often  really  attributable  to  the  causes  above  named.  Corsets 
and  heavy  skirts  are  the  real  offenders.  It  is  usually  the  case 
that  the  same  work  might  have  been  done — the  standing  and 
the  climbing — had  the  muscles  of  the  body,  both  external  and 
internal,  been  left  free  and  unweighted  by  the  clothing.  How 
much  is  added  to  her  burden  of  toil  and  worry  by  a  woman's 
long  skirts  as  she  goes  about  her  work,  in-doors  and  out,  in 
an  unsuitable  dress! 

FJEADING. 

Let  us  take  time  for  reading.  It  will  never  come  if  we  wait 
to  have  every  speck  of  dirt  removed  from  each  article  we  use. 
We  can  always  find  something  else  to  do;  and  conscientious 
housekeepers,  with  little  taste  for  mental  pursuits,  are  apt  to 
make  great  blunders.  "The  life  is  more  than  meat,  and  body 
than  raiment,"  which  means — if  I  may  be  allowed  to  preach  a 
wee  bit  of  a  sermon — that  you  yourself,  with  all  your  immortal 
faculties,  are  of  more,  vastly  more,  importance  than  your  house, 
and  furniture,  and  clothing,  and  cookery;  and  those  are  utterly 
worthless  if  they  serve  as  hinderances,  instead  of  helps,  to  your 
individual  culture.  No  kind  of  labor  is  degrading  if  done 
from  a  worthy  motive,  and  no  motive  can  be  nobler  than  the 
womanly  desire  to  make  a  pleasant  home.  With  this  end  in 
view  —  with  love  as  prompter — washing,  and  darning,  and 
scrubbing  are  all  elevated  from  drudgery  to  a  noble  place.  But 
our  home  cannot  be  properly  attractive  and  profitable  to  our 
families  if  we  ourselves  are  dull  and  harassed.  Our  brothers, 
and  fathers,  and  husbands,  and  sons  need  cheerful  and  intelli- 
gent companions  at  home  far  more  than  they  need  nice  dinners 
and  spotless  linen.  It  is  necessary  that  good  housekeepers 
should  also  read  and  reflect,  and  listen  and  converse. 


326  LADIES'  BOUDOIR. 

©HE   yEAI^S   I^ASS  On. 

"  When  I  am  a  woman,"  a  gay  maiden  said, 
"I'll  try  to  do  right,  and  not  be  afraid; 
I'll  be  a  Christian,  and  give  up  the  joys 
Of  the  world  with  all  its  dazzling  toys; 
But  I'm  only  a  girl  now." 

And  so  the  years  pass  on. 

"Ah  me!"  sighed  a  woman,  gray  with  years, 

Her  heart  full  of  cares,  and  doubts,  and  fears, 
"  I've  kept  putting  off  the  time  to  be  good, 
Instead  of  beginning  to  do  as  I  should; 
But  I'm  an  old  woman  now." 
And  so  the  years  pass  on. 

Now  is  the  time  to  begin  to  do  right; 
To-day,  whether  skies  look  dark  or  bright; 
Make  others  happy  by  good  deeds  of  love, 
Looking  to  Jesus  for  help  from  above; 
And  then  you'll  be  happy  now. 
And  as  the  years  pass  on. 

fl    (sHEEr^PUli   030MAN. 

What  a  blessing  to  a  household  is  a  merry,  cheerful  woman — 
one  whose  spirits  are  not  affected  by  wet  days,  or  little  disap- 
pointments, or  whose  ceaselesss  kindness  does  not  sour  in  the 
sunshine  of  prosperity!  Such  a  woman,  in  the  darkest  hours, 
brightens  the  house  like  a  piece  of  sunshiny  weather.  The 
magnetism  of  her  smiles  and  the  electrical  brightness  of  her 
looks  and  movements  infect  every  one.  The  children  go  to 
school  with  a  sense  of  something  gi'eat  to  be  achieved,  her  hus- 
band goes  into  the  world  in  a  conqueror's  spirit.  No  matter 
how  people  annoy  and  worry  him  all  day,  far  off  her  presence 
shines,  and  he  whispers  to  himself,  "At  home  I  shall  find  rest;" 
So,  day  by  day,  she  literally  renews  his  strength  and  energy; 
and  if  you  know  a  man  with  a  beaming  face,  a  kind  heart,  and 
a  prosperous  business,  in  nine  cases  out  of  ten  you  will  find  he 
has  a  wife  of  this  kind. 


PROVERBS  CONCERNING   WIVES.  327 

©HE  €)HAI^M   OP   0)AIDENHOOD. 


BY  E.  P.  DYER. 


In  maidenhood,  young  maidenhood, 

There  dwells  a  nameless  charm, 
Though  not  in  fingers  tapering, 

Nor  smoothly  rounded  arm; 
Nor  in  the  light,  elastic  step. 
Nor  in  the  beaming  eye, 
Nor  doth  belong. 
To  maiden's  song. 
Nor  yet  to  maiden's  sigh. 

It  smiles  not  on  the  cherry  lip, 

Nor  alabaster  brow. 
And  yet  it  wins  the  gazer's  heart, 

I  cannot  tell  you  how; 
It  springs  from  meek  simplicity — 
A  spirit  void  of  art — 
*         From  youthfulness, 

And  truthfulness,  • 

And  guilelessness  of  heart. 

How  charming  and  how  beautiful 

A  maiden's  modest  mien! 
Like  rosebud  of  a  ruby  tint 
Encased  in  living  green; 
How  sweetly  we  anticipate 
The  beauteous,  full  bloom. 
When  the  maiden  bride 
Shall  blush  beside 
Her  newly-wedded  groom. 

^I^OVBI^BS  <90N6BI^NING    ^lYES. 

Beauty  in  a  w^oman  is  like  the  flowers  in  spring;  but  virtue 
is  like  the  stars  of  heaven. 

A  wife  is  better  chosen  by  the  ear  than  by  the  eye. 

A  good  wife  is  the  gift  of  a  good  God,  and  the  workmanship 
of  a  good  husband. 

Manv  blame  the  wife  for  their  own  shiftless  life. 


328"  LADIES'  BOUDOIR. 

©HE    Bl^IDB'S  (©ASI^ET. 


BY  MBS.  L.  H.  8IG0URNEY. 


The  Angel  who  watcheth  over  those  who  are  about  to  unite 
their  heai'ts  and  hands  in  the  fear  of  God  hovered  near  one  who 
was  soon  to  become  a  bride. 

She  sat  alone  in  her  chamber,  and  mused;  and  he  was  beside 
her,  but  she  knew  it  not.  He  looked  into  her  guileless  eyes 
and  saw,  as  through  clear  glass,  the  movement  of  her  thoughts 
and  heard  their  unspoken  question. 

"  Wherewith  shall  I  adorn  myself  when  I  stand  forth  in  the 
solemn  rite,  that  I  may  please  him  in  whom  my  soul  delighteth, 
and  them  also  who  come  thither  to  do  us  honor?" 

Then  the  Angel  smiled,  and  read  in  a  Holy  Book  that  lay 
open  by  her  side,  "  Can  a  maid  forget  her  ornaments,  or  a  bride 
her  attire?"  And  he  whispered  so  softly  that  it  seemed  as  the 
zephyr  among  the  flowers  at  her  window: 

"O  Bride!  be  not  studious  to  deck  thyself  in  costly  array. 
Trouble  not  thine  heart  about  the  silks  of  the  merchant,  or  the 
gems  of  th«  lapidary,  or  the  fashions  of  the  tire-woman,  or  the 
pride  of  gorgeous  apparel. 

"  If  these  are  fitting  for  thee,  display  them  at  other  times,  but 
not  at  this  time;  for  it  is  a  sacred  festival,  and  around  the  pure 
bride  there  is  ever  a  mantle  of  dignity  that  needs  not  tinsel  or 
trappings,  but  is  debased  thereby. 

"The  highest  guest  at  the  marriage-rite  is  the  Being  who  hath 
ordained  it.  Look,  then,  first  unto  Him,  and  see  that  thou  wear 
the  garment  of  humility. 

"The  angels  also  will  be  there.  Therefore  wrap  thyself  in 
purity,  that  they  may  give  thee  the  smile  that  hath  no  self  in  it. 
For  that  is  their  badge — and  thou  art  but  a  little  lower  than  they. 

"And  in  the  sight  of  him  who  shall  stand  nearest  thy  side  at 
the  bridal,  and  of  them  who  love  thee  and  are  gathered  around, 
modesty  and  simplicity  are  the  true  ornaments.  'The  topaz  of 
Ethiopia  cannot  equal  them,  neither  shall  they  be  exchanged  for 
jewels  of  fine  gold.'" 

Then  the  gentle  one,  who  deemed  that  she  had  been  listening 
only  to  her  own  sweet  thoughts,  made  answer  as  they  prompted 
her: 


THA  T  S  UMMER  DA  Y.  329 

•'  I  will  wear  a  simple  white  robe,  with  the  bridal  veil,  and  my 
only  jewels  shall  be  the  snowy  flowers.  So  shall  my  heart  be 
more  free  to  rise  upward,  whence  its  strength  cometh." 

Then  the  Angel  revealed  himself,  and  laid  a  casket  beside 
her,  saying:  "Blessed  art  thou  of  the  Lord!  Behold  a  gift  from 
Heaven!     Take  it,  and  become  more  like  unto  us." 

So  she  opened  the  casket,  and  in  it  was  but  one  fair  gem.  It 
was  the  pearl  of  a  loving  and  lowly  spirit.  And  as  she  pressed 
it  to  her  lips,  and  laid  it  on  her  bosom,  there  came  forth  a  voice 
which  said: 

"O  Bride!  seek  more  and  more  the  beauty  of  holiness.  So 
shalt  thou  be  lovely  unto  the  Angels,  and  accepted  of  him  whose 
messengers  they  are.  And  when  the  comeliness  of  earth  de- 
parteth,  thou  shalt  receive  a  crown  of  glory  that  can  never  fade 
away." 

^HAT   SUMMBI^-DAY. 

I  thought  she  was  a  lovely  sight. 

As  daintil}'  arrayed  in  white. 

With  rosy  cheeks  and  glances  bright, 

That  summer-day 

She  played  croquet; 

Until  beneath  a  shady  tree 

I  stopped  to  rest,  which  chanced  to  be 

Where  in  the  kitchen  I  could  see, 

That  summer-day 

She  played  croquet — 

And  there  alone  in  that  hot  place 
Her  mother  stood  with  care-worn  face. 
And  ironed  a  gown  all  frills  and  lace, 

That  summer-day 

She  played  croquet — 

A  gown,  the  very  counterpart 

Of  that  she  wore  with  witching  art; 

And  so  she  did  not  win  my  heart 

That  summer-day 

She  played  croquet. 


330  ladies'  boudoir 

€lembnts  op  a  Si^ub  GQai^i^iagb. 


BY  CHARLES  H.  CATON. 


There  are  thl'ee  elements  that  combine  to  make  a  true  mar- 
riage— health,  love,  and  sympathetic  companionship.  No  man 
or  woman  physically  weak  should  marry,  and  thus  entail  suffer- 
ing oh  othei"s.  Love  does  not  mean  passion;  it  is  based  on  un- 
derstanding. Men  and  women  should  know  each  other  behind 
the  curtain,  as  it  were,  before  marriage.  Unhappy  lives  often 
result  from  imperfect  knowledge  before  marriage  of  the  char- 
acteristics of  the  partners  in  the  contract.  Love  makes  sacri- 
fices; passion  never.  No  husband  or  wife  has  ever  known  true 
happiness  until  after  the  birth  of  a  child.  Men  and  women  on 
the  plane  of  marriage  stand  equals.  There  should  be  sympa- 
thetic companionship  in  the  sense  that  an  irreligious  person 
should  not  marry  one  who  is  religiously  inclined,  nor  an  unintel- 
lectual  person  one  who  is  of  opposite  taste.  There  should  be 
sympathy  and  fellowship  between  husband  and  wife  in  all  the 
pursuits  of  life. 

fl    lilPB    ^ASTBD. 

About  thirty  years  ago  a  gentleman  from  New  York,  who 
was  traveling  in  the  South,  met  a  young  girl  of  great  beauty 
and  wealth,  and  married  her.  They  returned  to  New  York  and 
plunged  into  a  mad  whirl  of  gayety.  The  young  wife  had  been 
a  gentle,  thoughtful  girl,  anxious  to  help  all  suffering  and  want, 

and  to  serve  her  God  faithfully.     But  as  Mrs.  L she  had 

troops  of  flatterers;  her  beauty  and  dresses  were  described  in 
the  society  journals;  her  bonmots  flew  from  mouth  to  mouth; 
her  equipage  was  one  of  the  most  attractive  in  the  Park.  In  a 
few  months  she  was  intoxicated  with  admiration. 

She  and  her  husband  flitted  from  New  York  to  Newport, 
from  London  to  Paris,  with  no  object  but  enjoyment.  There 
were  other  men  and  women  of  their  class  who  had  some  wor- 
thier pursuit — literature,  or  art,  or  the  elevation  of  the  poorer 

classes — but  L and   his  wife  lived  solely  for  amusement. 

They  dressed,  danced,  flirted;  hurried  from  ball  to  reception, 
and  from  opera  to  dinner.     Young  girls  looked  at  Mrs.  L 


A  LIFE  WASTED.  331 

with  fervent  admiration,  perhaps  with  envy,  as  the  foremost 
leader  of  society. 

About  ten  years  ago  she  was  returning  alone  from  California, 
when  an  accident  occurred  to  the  railroad  train  in  which  she 
was  a  passenger,  and  she  received  a  fatal  internal  injury.  She 
was  carried  into  a  wayside  station,  and  there,  attended  only  by 
a  physician  from  the  neighboring  village,  she  died. 

Dr.  Blank  has  said  that  it  was  one  of  the  most  painful  expe- 
riences of  his  life.  "  I  had  to  tell  her  that  she  had  but  an  hour 
to  live.  She  was  not  suflering  any  pain.  Her  only  conscious- 
ness of  hurt  was  that  she  was  unable  to  move,  so  that  it  was  no 
wonder  she  could  not  believe  me. 

'"I  must  go  home,'  she  said  imperatively,  *to  New  York.' 

" '  Madam,  it  is  impossible.  If  you  move  it  will  shorten  the 
time  you  have  to  live.' 

"  She  was  lying  on  the  floor.  The  brakemen  had  rolled  their 
coats  to  make  her  a  pillow.  She  looked  about  her  at  the  little 
dingy  station,  with  the  stove  stained  with  tobacco  in  the  midst. 

'"I  have  but  an  hour,  you  tell  me?' 

" '  Not  more.' 

"  'And  this  is  all  that  is  left  me  of  the  world.  It  is  not  much, 
doctor,'  with  a  half-smile. 

"  The  men  left  the  room,  and  I  locked  the  door  that  she  might 
not  be  disturbed.  She  threw  her  arm  over  her  face,  and  lay 
quiet  a  long  time;  then  she  turned  on  me  in  a  frenzy.  'To 
think  of  all  that  I  might  have  done  with  my  money  and  my 
limel  God  wanted  me  to  help  the  poor  and  the  sick!  It's  too 
late  now!  I've  only  an  hour!'  She  struggled  up  wildly. 
'Why,  doctor,  I  did  nothing,  nothing,  but  lead  the  fashion! 
Great  God!  The  fashion!  Now  Fve  only  an  hour!  An 
hour!' 

"  But  she  had  not  even  that,  for  the  exertion  proved  fatal, 
and  in  a  moment  she  lay  dead  at  my  feet. 

"  No  sermon  that  I  ever  heard  was  like  that  woman's  despair- 
ing cry,  'It's  too  late!'" 

Amusement  is  the  waking  sleep  of  labor.  When  it  absorbs 
thought,  patience,  and  strength  that  might  have  been  seriously 
employed,  it  loses  its  distinctive  character,  and  becomes  the 
task-master  of  idleness. 


332  LADIES'  BOUDOIR. 

fiN   €X6ELLENJIi  ©HING   IN   ^OMAN. 

"I  remember,"  said  a  well-known  writer,  "the  first  queen  of 
society  that  I  met.  She  was  a  Scotchwoman,  who  had  married 
an  American  while  he  was  in  Europe.  Rumors  came  before 
her  to  his  home  of  her  brilliant  success  in  London  society  and 
in  the  Austrian  court,  where  her  brother  held  a  diplomatic  po- 
sition, and  when  she  arrived  with  her  husband  the  society  of 
the  little  city  where  he  lived  was  soon  at  her  feet. 

"  I  was  a  child  of  twelve,  visiting  in  a  country-house  near 
the  town. 

•'One  morning  some  one  said,  'There  comes  Madame  L .' 

I  ran  to  the  window  to  see  coming  through  the  street  a  stout, 
freckled,  red-haired  woman,  without  a  single  agreeable  feature 
in  her  face. 

"  I  was  amazed  and  disgusted.  But  when  she  came  in  and 
talked  to  me  I  sat  breathless  under  a  charm  never  felt  in  my 
life  before.  I  was  her  slave  from  that  moment.  Her  fascina- 
tion was  wholly  in  her  voice.  It  was  low,  clear,  musical.  The 
woman's  nature  was  expressed  in  it — unpretentiovis,  keenly 
sympathetic,  but  above  all  genuine.  It  was  her  power,  but  it 
was  irresistible." 

The  charm  of  a  sincere,  sweet  voice  never  fails  to  influence 
us,  though  we  are  often  unconscious  as  to  what  it  is  that  has 
touched  us.  Madame  de  Maintenon  is  said  to  have  maintained 
her  power  over  Louis  XIV.,  when  she  was  old  and  ugly,  by  her 
strong  sense  and  exquisite  voice. 

It  is  strange  that,  while  young  people  are  so  careful  to  im- 
prove every  advantage  which  nature  has  given  them  to  make 
themselves  attractive,  they  neglect  this,  probably  the  most  pow- 
erful of  all.  Voices,  it  is  true,  differ  naturally  in  sweetness 
and  range  of  tone,  but  they  may  be  trained  as  thoroughly  in 
speaking  as  in  singing.  The  first  aim  should  be  to  rid  the  voice 
of  all  roughness.  It  may  be  hopelessly  harsh  and  unmusical, 
but  it  can  always  be  made  clear  and  natural — ^your  own,  not  a 
lisping  imitation  of  that  of  some  other  person. 

Be  careful  to  speak  from  the  throat,  and  not  through  the 
nose.  A  high,  nasal  tone  betrays  an  uneducated  American  all 
over  the  world !  A  throat  voice  is  easily  controlled  and  subdued 
to  the  quiet,  distinct  tones  used  by  well-bred  people. 


NEVER  ANSWERED  BACK.  333 

HBYEI^    flNSWBI^BD    BAGI^. 

The  words  might  be  sharp,  harsh,  censorious,  or  even  bitter 
— it  mattereth  not;  she  threw  nothing  back,  but  met  them  all 
with  the  same  sweet  spirit  of  calm  endurance.  She  was  often 
placed  in  very  trying  circumstances,  but  her  self-control  never 
left  her;  her  patient  kindness  remained  unchanged. 

When  a  mere  child  her  mother  gave,  as  it  were,  the  care  of 
the  entire  family  into  her  tender  hands,  and  kissed  her  a  last 
farewell.  Tender,  delicate  child  that  she  was,  and  yet  so  strong, 
so  firm  in  goodness!  Her  father — hasty,  irritable,  at  times  un- 
reasonable— was  most  exacting  in  his  requirements;  but  she 
met  his  various  moods  with  patient,  forgiving  love. 

Her  brothers  and  sisters  were  passionate,  fitful,  and  trying, 
but  their  misdemeanors  were  never  visited  with  sharp  rebuke. 
She  never  answered  back  to  their  peevish  and  complaining 
words. 

I  have  seen  sadness  come  over  her  countenance  like  a  heavy 
cloud,  and  large  tear-drops  roll  slowly  down  her  fair  cheeks, 
but  no  temper-flashes  ever  disturbed  the  quiet  beauty  of  her 
face,  no  violent  emphasis  or  unlovely  accents  broke  the  melody 
of  her  sweet  voice.  I've  seen  her  slowly  leave  the  room  to 
avoid  a  conflict,  and  once,  through  some  misunderstanding,  she 
received  a  painfully  upbraiding  letter.  She  stole  away  softly 
to  her  chamber,  and  afterward  she  told  me  that  she  hastened  to 
God  to  get  right  feelings  quickly. 

One  day  she  was  telling  me  of  a  particular  trial  with  one  of 
the  wayward  children,  and  I  asked,  "Well,  what  did  you  say.'" 

She  answered:  "O,  nothing!  I  only  kept  still.  You  know 
it  does  not  make  things  better  to  answer  back." 

"But  what  did  you  do?"  I  again  asked. 

"  I  just  waited  as  patiently  as  I  could  until  she  got  over  it." 

"  Keep  still!"  How  wise,  how  heroic,  how  beautiful,  to  keep 
still  and  bear  in  silence  sharp,  passionate  words !  "Just  waited ! " 
How  admirable  the  grace  of  patience  to  wait  until  the  furious 
storm  of  anger  is  over,  and  never  increase  it  by  the  utterance 
of  a  single  word! 

How  sweet  to  see  little  children  turn  silently  away  from  con- 
tention, and  how  beautiful  for  young  people  to  abstain  from 
answerinor  back! 


334  LADIES'  BOUDOIR. 

She  0)odbl  ^Imei^igan  Gii^Li. 

A  practical,  plain  young  girl; 
Not  afraid-of-the-raln  young  girl; 

A  poetical  posy, 

A  ruddy  and  rosy, 
Helper-of-self  young  girl. 

At  home-in-her-place  young  girl; 

A  never-will-lace  young  girl; 
A  toiler  serene, 
A  life  pure  and  clean — 

A  princess-of-peace  young  girl. 

A  -vvear-her-own-hair  young  girl; 

A  free-from-a-stare  young  girl; 
improves  every  hour, 
No  sickly  sunflov^^er — 

A  wealth-of-rare-sense  young  girl. 

Plenty-room-in-her-shoes  young  girl; 

No-indulger-in-blues  young  girl; 
Not  a  bang  on  her  brow, 
To  fraud  not  a  bow^. 

She's  just-what-she-seems  young  girl. 

Not  a  reader-of-trash  young  girl; 
Not  a  cheap-jewel-flash  young  girl; 
,  Not  a  sipper  of  rum, 

Not  a  chewer  of  gum — 
A  marvel-of-sense  young  girl. 

An  early-retiring  young  girl; 
An  active-aspiring  young  girl; 

A  morning  ariser, 

A  dandy  despiser, 
A  progressive  American  girl. 

A  lover-of-prose  young  girl; 

Not  a  turn-up-your-nose  young  girl; 
Not  given  to  splutter. 
Not  "  utterly  utter," 

But  a  matter-of-fact  young  girl. 


THE  OLD-FASHIONED  GIRL.  335 

A  rightly-ambitious  young  girl; 
Red-lips-most-delicious  young  girl; 

A  sparkling  clear  eye, 

That  says,  "  I  will  try  " — 
A  sure-to-succeed  young  girl. 

An  honestly-courting  young  girl; 
A  never-seen-flirting  young  girl; 

A  quiet  and  pure, 

A  modest,  demure, 
A  fit-for-a-wife  young  girl. 

A  sought-every-where  young  girl; 
A  future-most-fair  young  girl; 

An  ever  discreet, 

We  too  seldom  meet 
This  queen-among-queens  young  girl. 

©HB   OliD-PASHIONED  GlF^L. 

She  flourished  thirty  or  forty  years  ago.  She  was  a  .little  girl 
until  she  was  fifteen.  She  used  to  help  her  mother  wash  the 
dishes  and  keep  the  kitchen  tidy,  and  she  had  an  ambition  to 
make  pies  so  nicely  that  papa  could  not  tell  the  difference  be- 
tween them  and  mamma's;  and  she  could  fry  griddle-cakes  at 
ten  years  of  age,  and  darn  her  own  stockings  before  she  was 
twelve,  to  say  nothing  of  knitting  them  herself. 

She  never  said  "  I  can't,"  and  "  I  don't  want  to,"  to  her 
mother  when  asked  to  leave  her  play  and  run  up-stairs  or  down 
on  an  errand,  because  she  had  not  been  brought  up  in  that  way. 
Obedience  was  a  cardinal  virtiie  in  the  old-fashioned  little  girl. 

She  rose  in  the  morning  ^vhen  she  was  called,  and  went  out 
into  the  garden  and  saw  the  dew  on  the  grass,  and  if  she  lived 
in  the  country  she  fed  the  chickens  and  hunted  up  the  eggs  for 
breakfast. 

We  do  not  suppose  she  had  her  hair  in  curl-papers,  or  crimp- 
ing-pins,  or  had  it  "  banged  "  over  her  forehead,  and  her  flounces 
were  no  trouble  to  her. 

She  learned  to  sew  by  making  patchwork,  and  we  dare  say 
she  could  do  an  "over-and-over"  seam  as  well  as  nine-tenths 
of  the  grown-up  women  do  nowadays. 


336  LADIES'  BOUDOIR. 

The  old-fashioned  little  girl  did  not  grow  into  a  young  lady 
and  talk  about  beaux  before  she  was  in  her  teens,  and  she  did 
not  read  dime  novels,  and  was  not  fancying  a  hero  in  every 
plowboy  she  met. 

She  learned  the  solid  accomplishments  as  she  grew  up.  She 
was  taught  the  arts  of  cooking  and  housekeeping.  When  she 
got  a  husband  she  knew  how  to  cook  him  a  dinner. 

She  did  not  think  she  knew  as  much  as  her  mother,  and  that 
her  judgment  was  as  good  as  her  grandmother's. 

And  if  there  be  an  old-fashioned  little  girl  in  the  world  to- 
day, may  heaven  bless  her,  and  keep  her,  and  raise  others  like 
her! 

F)ow  Gii^LS  (Day  Please. 

How  can  the  plain  be  charming?  Well,  true  self- forgetful - 
ness  and  kind  thoughtfulness  for  the  happiness  of  othere  are 
always  winning.  The  vain,  selfish  beauty  cannot  compete  with 
the  homely  maiden  who  is  popular  because  she  is  so  very  lova- 
ble. Her  father  confides  in  her;  her  mother  leans  on  her;  her 
friends  go  to  her  for  help  and  advice;  the  little  girls  bring  her 
their  broken  toys,  and  the  boys  come  for  aid  when  the  lessons 
are  hard.  By  and  by  a  marvelous  thing  happens.  She  is  spok- 
en of  every-where  as  "  the  interesting  Miss  Parker,"  or  "  the 
agreeable  Miss  Donnell,"  or  "the  captivating  Miss  Mark." 
She  has  grown  interesting,  agreeable,  and  captivating;  and 
each  quality  is  far  more  valuable  to  a  woman  than  the  posses- 
sion of  mere  beauty  without  other  winning  personal  character- 
istics. 

The  power  to  converse  well  is  a  very  great  charm.  You 
think  anybody  can  talk?  How  mistaken  you  are!  Anybody 
can  chatter;  anybody  can  exchange  idle  gossip;  anybody  can 
recapitulate  the  troubles  of  the  kitchen,  the  cost  of  the  last  new 
dress,  and  the  probable  doings  of  the  neighbors.  But  to  talk 
wisely,  wittily,  instructively,  freshly,  is  an  immense  accom- 
plishment. It  implies  exertion,  observation,  study  of  books 
and  of  people,  and  -receptivity  of  impressions.  No  young  girl 
can  hope  to  shine  in  conversation  as  her  mother  does;  but  every 
girl  can  begin  to  acquire  that  graceful  art,  which  will  draw  in- 
telligent men  and  women  to  her  side  and  enable  her  to  retain 
them,  because  they  are  pleasantly  entertained. 


II  UNA  WA  Y  MARRIA  GES.  337 

FJUNAWAY  CQAI^I^IAGES. 

There  have  been  given  recently  in  the  new^spapers  accounts 
of  runa\^ay  matches  in  which  the  brides  were  school-girls  un- 
der sixteen  years  of  age.  The  circumstances  of  the  elopements, 
as  a  rule,  have  been  dramatic  enough  to  figure  in  a  dime  novel, 
and  have  certainly  lost  nothing  of  their  sensational  character  as 
they  have  been  copied  from  one  paper  to  another  throughout 
the  country.     For  example,  here  is  one: 

The  daughter  of  a  worthy  farmer,  aged  fifteen,  fell  in  love 
with  one  of  the  workmen  on  the  farm,  of  whose  character  her 
father  strongly  disapproved.  The  man  was  discharged.  The 
girl  was  bidden  to  go  to  her  school-books,  and  to  dismiss  the 
thoughts  of  a  husband  until  increasing  years  should  have  given 
her  more  sense  and  judgment. 

But  the  young  lady  had  received  from  novels  ideas  quite  dif- 
ferent from  this.  She  corresponded  secretly  with  the  young 
man,  and  laid  her  plans.  The  next  week  she  became  appar- 
ently very  ill,  and  was  seized  with  convulsions.  Her  poor  old 
father,  in  an  agony  of  terror,  started  to  the  nearest  town  for  the 
doctor. 

On  his  return,  taking  a  short  side-road  to  reach  home  sooner, 
he  met  his  daughter  and  her  lover  on  their  way  to  the  railroad 
station.  The  lover  took  the  feeble  old  man  from  his  carriage, 
bound  him  hand  and  foot  with  the  leather  reins,  and  drove  away 
triumphantly,  leaving  him  lying  on  the  ground  by  the  roadside. 

Another  story  is  that  of  a  child  of  fourteen,  from  Cincinnati, 
who  engaged  herself  to  marry  a  man  whom  her  parents  had 
forbidden  her  even  to  know. 

She  was  sent  to  school  in  the  hope  that  the  folly  would  fade 
from  her  mind;  but  she  escaped  from  the  school,  placed  a  bit 
of  paper  with  "  i8"  on  it  in  her  shoe,  in  order  that  she  might 
tell  the  clergyman  she  was  "over  i8,"  and  was  married. 

Her  parents  took  her  home,  but  she  ran  away  again,  took  the 
conductor  and  passengers  of  a  railway  train  into  her  confidence, 
and  when  the  man  she  had  married  found  her,  threw  herself 
sdteaming  into  his  arms,  while  the  crowd  cheered  loudly. 

Now,  the  important  point  in  these  stories  is  not  that  these 
young  girls  succeeded  in  carrying  out  their  own  foolish  wills. 
Having  succeeded,  they  will  some  time  pay  the  wretched  pen- 

99. 


338  LADIES'  BOUDOIR. 

alty  that  inexorably  follows  such  reckless  conduct.  Young  girls 
who  can  play  sharp  tricks  on  clergymen,  allow  a  feeble  old 
father  to  be  cruelly  maltreated,  and  at  sixteen  give  way  to  their 
uncontrolled  wills,  are  not  the  kind  of  girls  to  make  happy, 
helpful  wives  and  mothers.  But  their  fate  only  concerns  them- 
selves, and  they  must  meet  it. 

The  point  which  interests  the  public  is  the  low  tone  of  Amer- 
ican newspapers  that  leads  their  editors  to  applaud  these  chil- 
dren, and  to  approve  a  course  which  every  thoughtful  man 
knows  is  suicidal  to  their  happiness  for  life.  No  girl  of  sixteen 
is  competent,  mentally  or  morally,  to  choose  the  man  who  shall 
be  her  second  self  for  life.  No  girl  of  sixteen  is  fit  in  brain, 
body,  or  education,  to  marry. 

If  she  persists  in  a  marriage  against  the  wishes  of  her  par- 
ents, she  is  urged  to  it  not  by  "  true  love,"  as  the  newspapers 
assert,  but  by  a  false  passion,  or  fancy,  that  will  be  as  short- 
lived and  baleful  as  the  swamp-fires  that  lure  travelers  to  de- 
struction. 

The  first  mistake  in  the  education  of  girls,  and  one  fraught 
with  the  saddest  results,  is  made  when  they  are  allowed  to  leave 
childhood  too  soon.  To  keep  them  little  girls  as  long  as  possi- 
ble, and  make  them,  first  of  all,  what  George  MacDonald  calls 
"blessed  little  animals,"  is  the  first  step  in  the  right  direction. 

The  second  mistake  is  permitting  growing  girls  to  sit  in  the 
house  and  study  when  their  transparent  cheeks  tell  of  ancemia 
and  lowered  vitality. 

The  third  mistake  is  making  the  school-life  of  girls  final,  when 
it  ought  to  be  a  simple  preparation  for  the  intellectual  life  of  the 
adult  woman. 

A  fourth  mistake  is  withholding  a  knowledge  of  the  laws  to 
which  woman  is  subject  in  her  mental  and  physical  life,  her 
place  in  nature,  and  the  potential  character  of  her  mental  status 
and  habits. 

Censure  and  criticism  never  hurt  anybody.  If  false,  they 
can't  hurt  you  unless  you  are  wanting  in  character;  and  if  true, 
they  show  your  weak  points  and  forewarn  you  against  failure 
and  trouble. 


A  HOUSEKEEPER'S  TRAGEDY.  389 

P    F^OUSBI^BBPBI^'S  ©I^AGBDY. 


BY  ELIZA  8.  TURNER, 


One  day,  as  I  wandered,  I  heard  a  complaining, 
And  I  saw  a  poor  woman  the  picture  of  gloom; 

She  glared  at  the  mud  on  her  door-step  ('twas  raining), 
And  this  was  her  wail  as  she  wielded  the  broom: 

"O,  life  is  a  toil,  and  love  is  a  trouble, 

And  beauty  will  fade,  and  riches  will  flee. 
And  pleasures  they  dwindle,  and  prices  they  double. 
And  nothing  is  what  I  could  wish  it  to  be! 

"There's  too  much  of  worrimcnt  goes  to  a  bonnet; 
There's  too  much  ironing  goes  to  a  shirt; 
There's  nothing  that  pays  for  the  time  you  waste  on  it; 
There's  nothing  that  lasts  but  trouble  and  dirt. 

"In  March  it  is  mud;  it's  slush  in  December; 
The  midsummer  breezes  are  loaded  with  dust; 
In  Fall  the  leaves  litter;  in  muggy  September 
The  wall-paper  rots  and  the  candlesticks  rust. 

"There  are  worms  in  the  cherries,  and  slugs  in  the  roses, 
And  ants  in  the  sugar,  and  mice  in  the  pies; 
The  rubbish  of  spiders  no  mortal  supposes. 
And  ravaging  roaches,  and  damaging  flies. 

"It's  sweeping  at  six,  and  it's  dusting  at  seven; 
It's  victuals  at  eight,  and  it's  dishes  at  nine; 
It's  potting  and  panning  from  ten  to  eleven; 
We  scarce  break  our  fast  ere  we  plan  how  to  dine. 

"  With  grease  and  with  grime,  from  corner  to  center, 
Forever  at  war,  and  forever  alert. 
No  rest  for  a  day,  lest  the  enemy  enter — 
I  spend  my  whole  life  in  a  struggle  with  dirt. 

"iw-ast  night,  in  my  dream,  I  was  stationed  forever 
On  a  little  bare  isle  in  the  midst  of  the  sea; 
My  one  chance  of  life,  with  a  ceaseless  endeavor, 
To  sweep  off"  the  waves  ere  they  swept  over  me. 


340  LADIES'  BOUDOIR. 

"Alas!  'twas  no  dream — again  I  behold  it! 
I  yield;  I  am  helpless  my  fate  to  avert — '■ 
She  rolled  down  her  sleeves,  her  apron  she  folded; 
Then  lay  down  and  died,  and  was  buried  in  dirt. 

flMUSBMBNTS. 

"That  is  the  best  amusement,"  explains  Mr.  Frothingham, 
"that  most  thoroughly  amuses;  not  that  instructs,  elevates,  pu- 
rifies, but  entertains,  making,  while  it  does  so,  the  least  possible 
draught  on  the  mind,  feelings,  or  will.  It  has  no  philosophy ; 
it  has  no  ethics;  it  has  no  intention,  except  to  spread  a  genial 
happiness  over  the  system.  It  is  not  in  its  nature  to  hurt  any 
living  creature;  it  is  against  its  being  to  be  savage,  cruel,  or 
harsh  toward  a  living  thing — man,  beast,  or  insect.  It  bears  no 
malice;  it  has  no  bitterness  in  itSN heart;  it  carries  no  venom  be- 
neath its  tongue;  it  aims  no  shafts  at  goodness  or  worth;  its 
laughter  is  harmless,  its  wit  is  sunny,  its  humor  generous.  It 
is  a  child  of  light  and  laughter.  Impurity,  indecency,  indeli- 
cacy it  holds  in  aversion.  It  proi,notes  good-will,  disarms  evil 
temper,  dispels  rancor,  exercises  fear,  and  puts  the  mind  in 
sweet  relation  with  the  world  of  fortune  and  mankind.", 

fl  GlI^L'S  Gdugation. 

The  education  of  the  girl,  as  a  housekeeper,  should  be  begun 
by  the  mother  early,  continued  until  the  marriage  of  the 
daughter,  and  no  other  duty  of  the  mother,  and  no  other  study 
of  the  daughter  should  interfere  with  it.  This  and  the  school 
education  should  go  on  simultaneously.  If  any  thing  is  to  be 
postponed,  let  it  be  music,  and  drawing,  and  philosoi^hy,  which, 
as  experience  shows,  are  usually  unattended  to  and  unpracticed 
after  "  the  happy  event."  The  more  and  higher  the  education 
the  better.  But  let  us  have  a  real  and  practical  instead  of  a 
sham  education. 

Education  gives  fecundity  of  thought,  copiousness  of  ijlus- 
tration,  quickness,  vigor,  fancy,  words,  images,  and  ease  of  ex- 
pression; it  decorates  every  common  thing,  and  gives  the  power 
of  trifling  without  being  undignified  and  absurd. 


;  Sentimental  ^  scraps. 

F71DDEN  For^GES. 


BY  W.  W.  BREESE. 


EASURE  not  a  man  by  outward  ap- 
pearances. They  are  deceptive.  Rouse 
him  by  some  powerful  stimulus  to  his 
emotions,  and  many  a  plain,  unattractive 
man  will  display  the  grandest  sentiments,  the  wisest 
actions,  the  most  heroic  daring;  while  another,  of 
whom  you  expected — by  his  appearance — the  best 
things,  will  sink  into  insignificance.  There  are  hidden 
forces  in  the  hearts  of  all  true  men,  which  will  blaze 
forth  upon  occasion  like  the  hidden  fires  in  a  volcano, 
and  oftentimes  in  quite  as  unexpected  a  manner. 

Says  a  well-known  writer:  "  There  are  times  when 
the  pulse  lies  low  in  the  bosom  and  beats  low  in  the 
veins;  when  the  spirit  sleeps  the  sleep,  apparently, 
that  knows  no  waking  in  its  house  of  clay,  and  the 
window-shutters  are  closed,  and  the  door  is  hung 
with  the  invisible  crape  of  melancholy;  when  we 
wish  the  golden  sunshine  pitchy  darkness,  and  are 
very  willing  to  'fancy  clouds  where  no  clouds  be.' 
This  is   a   state   of   sickness  where  physic   ma^-^  be 

(341) 


342  SENTIMENTAL  SCRAPS. 

thrown  to  the  dogs,  for  we  will  have  none  of  it. 
What  shall  raise  the  sleeping  Lazarus?  What  shall 
make  the  heart  beat  music  again,  and  the  pulses 
dance  to  it  through  all  the  myriad-thronged  halls  in 
our  house  of  life?  What  shall  make  the  sun  kiss  the 
eastern  hills  again  for  us,  with  all  his  old  awakening 
gladness,  and  the  night  overflow  with  'moonlight 
music,  love,  and  flowers!'  Love  itself  is  the  great 
stimulant — the  most  intoxicating  of  all — and  performs 
all  these  miracles;  but  it  is  a  miracle  itself,  and  is  not 
at  the  drug-store,  whatever  they  say.  The  counter- 
feit is  in  the  market,  but  the  winged  god  is  not  a 
money-changer,  we  assure  you. 

"  Men  have  tried  many  things,  but  still  they  ask  for 
stimulant — the  stimulant  in  use  but  requires  the  use 
of  more.  Men  try  to  drown  the  floating  dead  of 
their  own  souls  in  the  wine-cup,  but  the  corpses  will 
rise.  We  see  their  faces  in  the  bubbles.  The  intoxi- 
cation of  drink  sets  the  world  whirling  again,  and  the 
pulses  playing  music,  and  the  thoughts  galloping,  but 
the  fast  clock  runs  down  sooner,  and  the  unnatural 
stimulation  only  leaves  the  house  it  fills  with  the  wild- 
est revelry — more  silent,  more  sad,  more  deserted, 
more  dead. 

"  There  is  only  one  stimulant  that  never  fails,  and 
yet  never  intoxicates — Duty.  Duty  puts  a  blue  sky 
over  every  man — up  in  his  heart,  maybe — into  which 
the  skylark.  Happiness,  always  goes  singing." 

Could  we  but  fully  comprehend  the  power  that 
Providence  has  placed  within  our  breasts,  and  use  it 
to  the  best  advantage,  no  object  worthy  of  attainment 
would  be  beyond  our  reach.  Once  the  heart  becomes 
imbued  with  the  sentiment  of  love  for  its  occupation, 


HIDDEN  FORCES  343 

earnestly  and  wholly  given  up  to  its  pursuit,  and  labor 
loses  its  weariness,  and  toil  becomes  a  pleasure. 
"  How  many  there  are,"  says  one,  "  that  take  pleasure 
in  toil;  that  can  outrise  the  sun,  outwatch  the  moon, 
and  outrun  the  field's  wild  beasts!  Merely  out  of  fancy 
and  delectation,  they  can  find  out  mirth  in  vocifera- 
tion, music  in  the  barking  of  dogs,  and  be  content  to 
be  led  about  the  earth,  over  hedges  and  through 
sloughs,  by  the  windings  and  the  shifts  of  poor  af- 
frighted vermin;  yet,  after  all,  come  off,  as  Messalina, 
tired,  and  not  satisfied  with  all  that  the  brutes  can  do. 
But  were  a  man  enjoined  to  this  that  did  not  like  it, 
how  tedious  and  how  punishable  to  him  would  it 
prove — since,  in  itself,  it  differs  not  from  riding  post!" 

How  many  there  are,  on  the  other  hand,  who  view 
their  lot  in  life  with  fretfulness,  dissatisfaction,  and 
unrest.  They  will  not  magnify  their  labor,  nor  be 
reconciled  to  their  daily  toil.  Nor  is  this  confined  to 
those  in  humble  Hfe.  On  the  contrary,  many  brilliant 
people,  capable  of  great  actions  and  much  benefit  to 
mankind,  fritter  away  their  time  and  happiness  with- 
out attaining  any  thing  worthy  of  their  ambition.  Says 
Jeremy  Taylor  of  such  people  as  these:  "He  that 
hath  so  many  causes  of  joy,  and  so  great,  is  very 
much  in  love  with  sorrow  and  peevishness,  who  loses 
all  these  pleasures,  and  chooses  to  sit  down  on  his 
little  handful  of  thorns.  Such  a  person  is  fit  to  bear 
Nero  company  in  his  funeral  sorrow  for  the  loss  of 
one  of  Poppea's  hairs,  or  help  to  raourn  for  Lesbia's 
sparrow;  and  because  he  loves  it,  he  deserves  to  starve 
in  the  midst  of  plenty,  and  to  want  comfort  while  he 
is  encircled  with  blessings." 

Could  these  fretful  people,  who  chafe  at  the  chains 


344  SENTIMENTAL  SCRAPS.       ' 

of  circumstances  which  bind  them  to  their  sphere, 
but  become  content  and  happy  with  their  lot,  they 
would  behold  a  world  of  opportunities  for  both  useful- 
ness and  happiness  lying  all  ab.out  them.  Every  duty 
done  in  a  cheerful  manner,  and  with  a  warm  heart, 
brings  back  upon  the  doer  a  double  blessing.  Little 
deeds  of  kindness,  gentle  words  of  cheer,  are  little 
angels  winging  their  way  to  the  everlasting  throne, 
where  they  will  meet  us  at  the  close  of  the  journey. 

The  forces  which  control  and  guide  the  human 
heart  are  hidden  within  the  soul,  and  no  eye  save  that 
of  Orciniscience  can  penetrate  within  the  veil  and 
behold  their  workings.  There  are  to  be  found  the 
hidden  springs  controlling  all  actions,  guiding  all 
plans,  causing  all  emotions.  Beginning  in  the  dim 
past,  so  faint  as  to  be  imperceptible  to  human  under- 
standing, circumstances  have  shaped  the  intellect,  and 
surroundings  biased  the  moral  nature,  until  the  fully- 
developed  man  stands  forth  an  anomaly,  changed  from 
his  kindred,  and  possessing  a  nature  at  variance  with 
all  the  known  laws  of  descent  and  inheritance. 

But  within  these  encircling  habits,  emotions,  and 
inclinations  there  is  power  to  work  a  transformation, 
which  only  needs  an  exciting  cause  and  a  sufficient 
stimulus  to  fully  develop  into  a  controlling  power. 
"Blood  will  tell."  We  are  often  surprised  at  noble 
actions,  grand  words,  controlling  influences,  in  a  man 
whose  habits  of  life  and  general  conduct  gave  no  in- 
dication of  such  ability.  But  upon  investigation  we 
can  generally  discover  the  germ  descended  from  a 
forgotten  ancestor,  which  served  as  the  "leaven  to 
leaven  the  whole  lump." 

We  should  never  despair,  therefore,  in  our  efforts 


THE  COMFORTED  MOTHER.  345 

to  educate  and  inspire  the  most  unlikely  subject. 
Placed  in  the  right  light,  the  most  morbid  man  be- 
comes cheerful;  the  most  cynical,  lovable;  the  most 
atheistical,  orthodox;  the  most  distrustful,  believing; 
and  the  most  stolid,  enthusiastic.  There  are  hidden 
forces  in  every  heart,  leading  up  to  the  pure,  the  true, 
and  the  good,  and  it  needs  but  the  lever  of  tact,  ap- 
plied over  the  fulcrum  of  faith,  to  raise  them — as  Ar- 
chimedes raised  the  Roman  ships — and  leave  them  on 
higher  and  better  ground  forever  thereafter. 

She  ^OMPoi^TED  CQothbi^. 

It  was  many  years  ago  that  a  poor  widowed  woman,  leading 
a  hard  Hfe  of  unending  labor,  was  called  on  to  part  with  the 
one  thing  dear  to  her — her  only  child. 

For  many  months  the  pair  had  been  supported  by  the  elder 
woman's  sewing,  and  it  was  in  the  character  of  employer  I  had 
become  acquainted  with  Mrs  C and  her  story.  By  an  occa- 
sional visit  to  the  awful  heights  of  an  East  Side  tenement,  where 
they  lived,  by  a  few  books,  and  some  comforting  words,  I  had 
won  the  love  of  the  dying  girl.  Her  grateful  thoughts  turned 
in  her  last  hours  to  the  small  number  of  friends  she  possessed, 
and  she  besought  her  mother  to  notify  me  of  the  day  of  the 
funeral  and  ask  me  to  attend. 

That  summons  reached  me  upon  one  of  the  wildest  days  pre- 
ceding Christmas.  A  sleet  that  was  not  rain,  and  a  rain  that 
was  not  snow,  came  pelting  from  all  points  of  the  compass.  I 
'piled  the  glowing  grates;  I  drew  closer  the  curtains  and  shut 
out  the  gloom  of  the  December  afternoon;  I  turned  on  the  gas 
and  sat  down,  devoutly  thankful  that  I  had  cut  off  connection 
with  the  wicked  weather,  when  an  installment  of  it  burst  in  upon 
me  in  the  shape  of  Parepa  Rosa.  She  was  Euphrosyrte  Parepa 
of  that  time,  and  the  operatic  idol  of  the  city. 

And  even  as  we  congratulated  ourselves  on  the  prospect  of  a 
delightful  day  together,  here  came  the  summons  for  me  to  go  to 
the  humble  funeral  of  the  poor  sewing-woman's  daughter.  I 
turned  the  little  tear-blotted  note  over,  and  groaned. 


346  SENTIMENTAL  SCRAPS. 

"This  is  terrible,"  said  I.  "  It's  just  the  one  errand  that  could 
take  me  out  to-day!     I  must  go." 

And  then  I  told  Parepa  the  circumstances,  and  speculated  on 
the  length  of  time  I  should  be  gone,  and  suggested  means  of 
amusement  in  my  absence. 

"  But  I  shall  go  with  you,"  said  the  great-heaited  creature. 

So  she  rewound  her  thi"oat  with  the  long  comforter,  pulled 
on  her  worsted  gloves,  and  off  in  the  storm  we  went  together. 
We  climbed  flight  after  flight  of  narrow,  dark  stairs  to  the  top 
floor,  where  the  widow  dwelt  in  a  miserable  little  room  not  more 
than  a  dozen  feet  square.  The  canvas-back  hearse,  peculiar  to 
the  twenty-five  dollar  funeral,  stood  in  the  street  below,  and  the 
a\Yful  cherry-stained  box,  with  its  ruffle  of  glazed  white  muslin, 
stood  on  uncovered  trestles  in  the,  center  of  the  room  above. 

There  was  the  mother,  speechless  in  her  grief,  beside  that 
box,  a  group  of  hard-working,  kindly-hearted  neighbors  sitting 
about.  It  was  useless  to  speak  to  her  of  the  daughter's  release 
from  pain  and  suffering.  So,  therefore,  with  a  sympathizing 
grasp  of  the  poor,  worn,  bony  hand,  we  sat  silently  down  to 
"  attend  the  funeral." 

Then  the  minister  came  in — a  dry,  self-sufficient  man,  with 
nothing  of  the  tenderness  of  his  holy  calling  about  him.  Icier 
than  the  day,  colder  than  the  storm,  he  rattled  through  some 
selected  sentences  from  the  Bible,  and  offered  a  set  form  of 
condolence  to  the  broken-hearted  mother,  and  assured  her  that 
nothing  could  bring  back  the  dead.  Then  he  hurriedly  de- 
parted, while  a  hush  fell  on  everybody  gathered  in  the  room. 
Not  one  word  had  been  uttered  of  consolation.  It  was  the 
emptiest,  hollowest,  most  unsatisfactory  moment  I  ever  remem- 
ber. Then  Parepa  arose,  her  cloak  falling  about  her  noble 
figure  like  mourning  drapery.  She  stood  beside  that  miserable, 
cherry-stained  box.  She  looked  a  moment  on  the  wasted,  ashy 
face,  upturned  toward  her  from  within  it.  She  laid  her  soft, 
white  hand  on  the  forehead  of  the  dead  girl,  and  lifted  up  her 
matchless  voice  in  the  beautiful  melody, 

"Angels  ever  bright  and  fair, 
Take,  O  take  her  to  thy  care!" 

The  noble  voice  swelled  toward  heaven,  and  if  ever  the  choirs 
of  paradise  paused  to  listen  to  earth's  music,  it  was  when  Pa- 


POWER  OF  MUSIC.  347 

repa  sang  so  gloriously  beside  that  poor  dead  girl.  No  words 
can  describe  its  effects  on  those  gathered  there.  The  sad 
mourner  sank  on  her  knees,  with  clasped  hands  and  streaming 
eyes,  while  the  little  band  stood  reverently  about  her  weeping 
sympathetically. 

No  queen  ever  went  to  her  grave  accompanied  by  a  grander 
ceremony.  To  this  day  Parepa's  glorious  tribute  of  song  rings 
with  solemn  melody  in  my  memory  as  the  most  impressive  serv- 
ice I  ever  heard. 

^OWBI^    OP    0)USI6. 

It  is  true  that  most  persons  are  more  impressed  by  what  they 
see  than  by  what  they  hear;  so  that  it  has  become  a  maxim  that 
one  learns  more  readily  through  the  eye  than  through  the  ear. 
But  Nature  is  a  compensating  mother.  If  the  eye  begets  the 
most  lasting  impression,  the  ear  imparts  the  most  active  stimu- 
lant. Few  artists  who  appeal  to  the  eye  have  so  roused  the 
vital  action  as  those  who  seek  the  ear.  An  illustration  of  the 
power  of  sound,  expressed  in  fitting  music  to  fitting  words,  is 
given  by  Ben  Perley  Poor  in  the  Boston  Budget.     He  says: 

Jenny  Lind's  ballad-singing  carried  her  Washington  audi- 
ences by  storm.  Without  in  the  slightest  degree  compromising 
its  character  of  a  simple  ballad,  she  infused  into  every  line  of  it 
more  of  the  poetic  spirit  and  meaning  than  the  words,  upon  the 
mere  reading,  seemed  to  contain. 

It  was  often  the  outpouring  of  the  soul  of  a  Scottish  peasant 
lassie,  yet  it  was  one  of  the  most  sparkling  pieces  of  vocaliza- 
tion ever  listened  to. 

What  wondrous  versatility  was  here!  From  Bellini  to  Burns 
— from  the  highest  reach  of  Italian  art  to  the  most  homely  sim- 
plicity of  Scottish  minstrelsy — and  the  same  effects  produced 
by  each! 

At  the  close  of  her  singing  of  the  "  Last  Rose  of  Summer," 
on  one  occasion,  Mr.  Webster,  who  occupied  a  front  seat,  joined 
in  demanding  its  repetition,  and  when  Miss  Lind  came  on  the 
stage  again  he  rose  and  bowed  low  thrice,  his  swarthy  features 
gleaming  with  gratification.  The  audience  indorsed  the  com- 
pliment with  vociferous  applause. 

Music  is  the  hidden  soul  of  harmony. — Milton. 


348  SENTIMENTAL  SCRAPS.    ' 

She  BsAUTiPUii  AND  ©i^UE. 

Bright  are  the  dreams  of  childhood's  sunny  years, 
Pure  as  the  fragrance  of  the  opening  flowers, 

Moi'e  dear  to  Heaven  than  repentant  tears, 

Or  vesper  anthems  hymned  'neath  saci'ed  towers. 

But  Hfe's  fair  morn  on  fleeting  wing  is  borne, 

And  o'er  its  memories  hngei;ing  we  mourn. 

In  tranquil  beauty  lies  the  summer  sea, 

O'erspread  with  canopy  of  star-decked  blue, 

When  moonbeams  venture  fi'om  the  gai'den  lea, 
And  mingle  silver  with  cerulean  hue; 

But  ruthless  storm-kings  mar  the  pleasant  dreams. 

And  angry  surges  fright  the  timid  beams. 

Is  there  no  beauty,  then,  but  must  decay — 
No  ever-gushing  font  of  life's  sweet  balm. 

To  soothe  the  sorrowing  of  mortal  day — 
No  heart  whereon  to  rest  secure  and  calm? 

Ah,  yes!  my  soul,  repress  the  troubled  sigh — 

There  is  a  loving  heart  not  doomed  to  die. 

And  beautiful — O  ask  the  seraph  throng 
Which  on  its  untold  splendors  captive  gaze; 

Hark  to  the  melody  of  angels'  song, 

That  swells  eternal  anthems  to  its  praise! 

All  that  is  bright,  and  beautiful,  and  fair. 

Lives  in  its  fullness  still  to  linger  there. 

And  true,  though  friendship  wither  and  decay, 
The  mother's  tender  heart  forget  to  love, 

Though  guardian  angels  faithless  turn  away, 
Yet  will  that  sacred  heart  devoted  prove. 

Ask  of  the  Garden  where  the  olives  grew. 

And  of  Calvary — His  agony  that  knew. 

Yet  all  the  loveliness  which  earth  contains. 

The  gorgeous  treasures  of  the  deep-blue  sea. 
The  unknown  beauty  of  the  starry  plains. 

And  all  that  fancy  in  her  dreams  can  see; 
•  Would  that  the  world  thy  sweetness  only  knew, 
O  Heart  of  Jesus! — the  beautiful  and  true. 


POWER  OF  SYMPATHY.  349 

^owBi^  OP  Sympathy. 


BY  C.  8.  ROBINSON,  D.D. 


Once  I  knew  a  working-man,  a  potter  by  business,  who  had 
one  small,  invalid  child  at  home.  He  wrought  at  his  trade  with 
exemplary  fidelity,  being  always  in  the  shop  with  the  opening 
of  day.  He  managed,  however,  to  bear  each  evening  to  the 
bedside  of  the  "wee  lad,"  as  he  called  him,  a  flower,  or  a  bit 
of  ribbon,  a  fragment  of  crimson  glass — indeed,  any  thinf  that 
would  lie  out  on  the  white  counterpane,  and  give  a  color  in  the 
room.  He  was  a  quiet,  unsentimental  Scotchman;  but  never 
went  he  home  at  nightfall  without  some  toy  or  trinket,  showing 
he  had  remembered  the  wan  face  that  lit  up  so  when  he  came 
in.  I  presume  he  never  said  to  a  living  soul  that  he  loved  that 
sick  boy  so  much.  Still  he  went  on  patiently  loving  him;  and 
by  and  by  he  moved  that  whole  shop  into  positively  real  but 
unconscious  fellowship  with  him.  The  workmen  made  curious 
little  jars  and  tea-cups  upon  their  wheels,  and  painted  diminu- 
tive pictures  down  the  sides  before  they  stuck  them  in  corners 
of  the  kiln  at  burning-time.  One  brought  some  fruit  in  the 
bulge  of  his  apron,  and  another  some  engravings  in  a  rude 
scrap-book.  Not  one  of  them  all  whispered  a  word,  for  this 
solemn  thing  was  not  to  be  talked  about.  They  put  them  in  the 
old  man's  hat,  where  he  found  them;  so  he  understood  all  about 
it.  And  I  tell  you,  seriously,  that  entire  body  of  potters — men  of 
rather  coarse  fiber  by  nature — grew  quiet  as  the  months  drifted, 
becoming  gentle  and  kind,  and  some  of  the  ungoverned  ones 
stopped  swearing,  as  the  weary  look  on  their  patient  fellow- 
worker's  face  told  them  beyond  any  mistake  that  the  inevitable 
shadow  was  drawing  nearer.  Every  day  now  somebody  did  a 
piece  of  his  work  for  him,  and  put  it  upon  the  sanded  plank  to 
dry;  thus  he  could  come  later  and  go  earlier.  So,  when  the  bell 
tolled,  and  the  little  coffin  came  out  of  the  door  of  the  lowly 
house,  right  around  the  corner,  out  of  sight,  there  stood  a  hun- 
dred stalwart  working-men  from  the  pottery,  with  their  clean 
clothes  on,  most  of  whom  gave  a  half-day  of  time  for  the  priv- 
ilege of  taking  off  their  hats  to  the  simple  procession,  filing  in 
behind  it,  and  following  across  the  village  green  to  its  grave 
that  small  burden  of  a  child,  which  probably  not  one  of- them 
had  ever  seen  with  his  own  eyes. 


350  sentimental  scraps. 

Souls  ajp  Sea. 


BY  JOSEPHINE  POLLARD. 


Countless  the  barks  that  are  out  at  sea — 

The  sea  of  life; 
Countless  the  waves  in  their  foaming  glee, 

-  And  ceaseless  strife. 
Beautiful  boats,  with  their  oars  of  pearl. 

Each  bears  a  soul; 
Slowly  life's  banner  doth  each  unfurl, 

As  seasons  roll. 

Longing,  the  eyes  that  watch  through  the  mist- 
That  watch  and  wait — 

For  rosy-hued  clouds  and  amethyst, 
That  come  so  late; 

They  look  for  the  rocks  with  veins  of  gold. 
For  islands  green; 

They  watch  for  much,  till  weary  and  old. 
That's  never  seen. 

Dangers  not  thought  of,  in  tempting  guise, 

Appear  in.  sight; 
Monsters  of  evil  as  often  rise 

To  loftiest  height — 
•    Crushing  the  weak  ones,  wrecking  the  frail. 

Tempting  to  wrong. 
Cruelly  watching  each  passing  sail 

That  drifts  along! 

Only  at  last,  when  the  sunsets  fade, 

The  shore  appears; 
"Dust  unto  dust"  is  quietly  laid — 

Gone  doubts  and  feai's. 
Blest  thought!  that  when  on  the  other  side, 

The  life-voyage  o'er. 
There's  no  more  looking  "beyond  the  tide" — 

Safe  evermore. 

We  appreciate  no  pleasures  unless  we  are  occasionally  de- 
prived of  them.     Restraint  is  the  golden  rule  of  enjoyment. 


A  GENUINE  LOVE-STORY.  351 

fl  Genuine  Ijoye-sipoi^y. 

A  young  clergyman  and  his  bride  were  invited  guests  at  a 
large  party  given  by  a  wealthy  parishioner.  In  all  the  fresh- 
ness and  elegance  of  her  bridal  wardrobe  the  young  wife  shone 
among  the  throng,  distinguished  by  her  comeliness,  vivacity, 
and  rich  attire;  and  when  during  the  evening  her  young  hus- 
band drew  her  aside  and  whispered  to  her  that  she  was  the 
most  beautiful  woman  in  all  the  company,  and  that  his  heart 
was  bursting  with  pride  and  love  for  her,  she  thought  herself 
the  haj^piest  wife  in  the  world. 

Ten  years  later  the  same  husband  and  wife  were  guests  at  the 
same  house,  where  was  gathered  similar  gay  company.  The 
wife  of  ten  years  wore  the  same  dress  she  had  worn  on  the  pre- 
vious occasion;  of  course,  it  had  been  altered  and  made  over, 
and  was  old-fashioned  and  almost  shabby.  Toil,  and  care,  and 
motherhood,  and  pinched  circumstances  had  taken  the  roses  out 
of  the  cheeks  and  the  lithe  spring  out  of  her  form.  She  sat 
apart  from  the  crowd,  looking  care-worn  and  preoccupied.  Her 
small  hands,  roughened  with  coarse  toil,  were  ungloved,  for  the 
minister's  salary  was  painfully  small.  A  little  apart  the  ten-year 
husband  stood  and  looked  at  his  wife,  and  as  he  observed  her 
faded  dress  and  her  weary  attitude,  a  great  sense  of  all  her  pa- 
tient, loving  faithfulness  came  over  his  heart.  Looking  up,  she 
caught  his  earnest  gaze  and  noticed  that  his  eyes  were  filled 
with  tears.  She  rose  and  went  to  him,  her  questioning  eyes 
mutely  asking  for  an  explanation  of  his  emotion.  And  when 
he  tenderly  took  her  hand,  and  placing  it  on  his  arm  led  her 
away  from  the  crowd,  and  told  her  how  he  had  been  thinking 
of  her  as  she  looked  ten  years  before  when  she  was  a  bride,  and 
how  much  more  beautiful  for  her  shabby  dress  and  roughened 
hands,  and  how  he  appreciated  all  her  sacrifice  and  patient  toil 
for  him  and  for  their  children,  a  great  wave  of  happiness  filled 
her  heart;  a  light  shone  in  her  face  that  gave  it  more  than  its 
youthful  beauty,  and  in  all  the  company  there  was  not  so  happy 
a  couple  as  this  husband  and  wife,  their  hearts  and  faces  aglow 
from  the  flaming  up  of  a  pure  sentiment  that  transfigured,  and 
ennobled,  and  glorified  all  the  toils  and  privations  they  endured. 

Nature  cries  aloud  for  freedom  as  our  proper  guide,  our  birth- 
right, and  our  end. 


352  SENTIMENTAL  SCRAPS. 

05HEN  I  AM  Dead. 


BY  FRANKLIN  P.  DALY. 


When  I  am  dead, 
I  would  not  have  the  rude  and  gaping  crowd 
Around  me  gather,  and,  'mid  lamentation  loud, 
Tell  of  my  virtues,  and  with  vain  regret 
Bemoan  my  loss,  and,  leaving  me,  forget; 
But  I  would  have  the  few  of  kindly  heart 
Who,  when  misfortune  came,  so  nobly  did  their  part, 
And  oft  by  thoughtful  deeds  their  love  express — 
Those  would  I  have — no  more,  no  less. 

When  I  am  dead! 

When  I  am  dead, 
I  would  not  have  the  high  and  storied  stone 
Placed  o'er  my  grave,  and  then  be  left  alone; 
But  I  would  have  some  things  I  once  did  love. 
Ere  I  did  leave  the  joyous  world  above. 
Placed  o'er  me.     And  each  succeeding  year 
I'd  have  my  friends  renew  them,  and  oft  linger  near, 
With  loving  thoughts  upon  the  one  laid  low. 
And  talk  of  times  departed  long  ago, 

When  I  am  dead  I 

When  I  am  dead, 
Forgive — O,  this  I  pray  far  more  than  all — 
The  anguish  I  have  caused,  the  deed  beyond  recall. 
Think  kindly  on  me  as  I  lie  so  still, 
So  poor  a  subject  for  an  angered  will; 
Think  of  some  generous  deed,  some  good  word  spoken, 
Of  hearts  bound  up  I  found  all  sad  and  broken; 
Think  gently,  when  this  last,  long  rest  is  mine, 
And  gaze  upon  my  form  with  look  benign, 

When  I  am  dead! 

The  main  token  of  a  strong  character  is  not  to  make  known 
every  change  and  phase  in  thought  and  feeling,  but  to  give  the 
world  the  finished  results. 


RECONCILED.  353 

P{B60N6ILBD. 

A  significant  anecdote  comes  to  us  from  Washington  City, 
which  forcibly  illustrates  the  change  in  feeling  between  the 
North  and  South  during  the  last  fifteen  years. 

Gen.  Wade  Hami:)ton,  one  night  during  the  war,  lost  his  way 
and  rode  inside  of  the  Federal  lines.  He  entered  a  cabin  and 
found  half  a  dozen  men  seated  around  a  table.  The  danger 
was  so  imminent  that  nothing  but  bold  and  prompt  action  would 
save  him.  His  cloak  covered  his  uniform.  He  advanced  and 
demanded,  with  the  air  of  a  superior  officer,  what  they  were 
doing  there. 

"  We  belong  to  the  Eighth  New  York,"  said  one,  as  they  rose 
respectfully.     "Gen.  Warren  sent  us  for  milk." 

Gen.  Hampton  nodded  and  left  the  cabin,  but  as  he  neared 
the  road  where  he  had  tied  his  horse  he  found  the  farmer  had 
followed  him  suspiciously. 

Hampton  sprang  on  his  horse,  and,  drawing  a  pistol,  covered 
the  man  with  it.  "  Walk  before  me,"  he  said,  in  a  low  voice. 
"If  you  give  the  alarm,  I  will  shoot!" 

"  Don't  shoot! "  muttered  the  terrified  farmer.    "  I  surrender." 

Hampton  motioned  him  to  proceed,  and  brought  him  into  the 
Confederate  camp  a  prisoner. 

Twenty  years  later  this  man  met  Mr.  Hampton  on  Pennsyl- 
vania Avenue,  and  asked  his  influence  to  secure  him  a  position. 
"  Our  acquaintance  is  of  old  date,"  he  said.  "  I  am,  I  suppose, 
the  only  prisoner  you  ever  took  single-handed." 

The  aid  he  asked  was  cordially  given. 

Another  singular  story  has  just  come  to  light. 

A  bitter  feud  raged  before  the  war  for  years  between  two 
families  in  Kentucky,  whom  we  shall  here  call  Nash  and  Stern. 
The  Nashes  remained  loyal;  the  Sterns  threw  themselves  into 
the  cause  of  secession;  the  hatred  between  them  was  fanned 
into  a  fiercer  fury.  Yoimg  Nash  was  wounded  in  Virginia, 
and  was  sent  North  to  a  hospital  in  Pennsylvania.  His  cot  was 
next  to  that  of  a  rebel  officer  who  had  lost  a  leg. 

Such  little  acts  of  kindness  as  they  could  show  to  each  other 

they  did.     They  were  only  two  men  meeting  face  to  face,  shut 

in  from  all  outside  differences,  and  finding  each  other  to  be 

honest,  manly  fellows.     Nash  at  last  w^as  able  to  hobble  about 

23 


354  SENTIMENTAL  SCRAPS. 

the  watds.  When  his  friend  first  left  his  bed  he  was  there  to 
help  him.  As  the  Southern  officer  looked  down  at  his  wooden 
leg  he  said,  "This  will  give  a  sore  heart  to  my  old  mother  in 
Kentucky." 

"Kentucky?  And  your  name  is  Stern?"  Nash  trembled  as 
he  held  out  his  arm  to  support  his  companion. 

"Yes.     What  of  it?" 

"Nothing."  They  limped  across  the  floor,  and  the  cripple 
sank  down  in  a  chair  in  the  sunshine. 

"  Nothing.     Only — my  name  is  Nash,  and  there's  my  hand! " 

The  two  men  remained  warm  friends  until  Stern  died. 

How  many  bitter  quarrels  could  be  healed  and  prejudices 
banished  if  men  could  look  at  each  other's  lives  closely  enough 
to  see  the  human  heart  beating  within! 

She    liEPBI^'s   liASiT    ©AI^iPING. 

When  a  leper  is  reported  to  the  police  of  any  district,  an  offi- 
cer, says  a  correspondent  of  the  Philadelphia  Times,  is  sent  to 
fetch  him  or  her  to  Honolulu,  where  there  is  a  detention  hos- 
pital on  the  outskirts  of  the  city  and  on  the  bank  of  the  beau- 
tiful bay.  The  patient  is  examined  by  the  doctor,  who  decides 
whether  it  is  a  case  of  leprosy  or  not. 

Once  declared  a  leper  the  person  is  civilly  dead,  and  is  incapa- 
ble of  suing  in  the  courts,  or  being  sued.  At  the  hospital  there 
are  accommodations  for  about  one  hundred  and  twenty.  It  is 
filled  every  two  months.  In  this  place  the  leper  must  give  up 
all  hope.  Before  his  admission  here  he  had,  at  least,  the  expec- 
tation of  dying  among  friends — friends  so  loyal  that  they  hide 
their  afflicted  relatives  in  the  mountains  and  bring  them  poi 
and  water  in  calabashes. 

But  now  comes  the  harsh  discipline  of  a  government  institu- 
tion. No  wandering  in  the  cool  Algarroba  forest,  or  bathing  in 
the  loved  surf,  but  simply  a  period  of  suffering  and  waiting  for 
death  by  a  necessary,  if  cruel,  law,  and  from  whose  horrible 
provisions  there  is  no  escape. 

The  hospital  full,  a  steamer  comes  to  take  to  the  Island  of. 
Molokai  those  whose  condition  is  most  advanced,  there  to  re- 
main until  death.  It  was  with  such  a  party  that  I  traveled 
finally  to  Molokai.  It  has  been  my  lot  to  witness  many  sad 
scenes,  but  none  of  them  approached  in  any  way  those  which 


THE  LEPERS  LAST  PARTING,  366 

attended  the  separation  of  families  as  these  handfuls  of  lepers 
sailed  away  to  their  exile.  Daughters  reached  out  their  arms 
to  mothers  whom  they  might  not  embrace;  wive^  held  up  their 
mouths  for  kisses  which  their  husbands  could  not  give;  babes, 
held  in  arms  of  strangers,  laughed  and  cooed  to  their  mothers, 
to  whose  breaking  hearts  they  might  not  be  held  in  one  last, 
loving  clasp. 

And  sobs — such  sobs,  "alas!  that  came  from  the  depths  of 
hearts  wrung  with  the  misery  of  a  hopeless  condition."  Pres- 
ently the  lines  were  cast  off,  the  little  steamer  turned  her  head 
away  and  steamed  slowly  toward  the  bar. 

I  went  into  the  little  cabin  set  apart  for  the  captain  and  closed 
the  door,  determined  to  hear  no  more  and  see  no  more  of  such 
grief.  The  little  port  was  open,  when  suddenly  it  was  dark- 
ened, and  looking  up  I  saw  the  dark  but  beautiful  face  of  a 
woman  whose  young  husband  was  on -his  way  to  Molokai. 
She  had' swam  out  to  intercept  the  steamer,  and  being — as,  in- 
deed, are  all  her  race — as  much  at  home  in  water  as  on  land, 
she  had  no  difficulty  in  accomplishing  her  purpose. 

"Ah,"  she  said,  "  You're  not  a  doctor  nor  a  constable.  Tell 
my  husband  to  look  over  the  side  to  me,  and  God  will  bless 
you." 

I  went  on  deck.  We  were  steaming  slowly,  waiting  for  the 
government  inspector  to  complete  his  task  before  taking  his 
own  boat  for  the  shore.  The  lepers  had  become  quiet,  or  com- 
paratively so,  except  for  pain. 

A  few  women  were  rocking  and  moaning,  a  young  half- white 
girl  Jiad  flung  herself  on  the  deck  in  a  wild  abandonment  of 
grief,  and  behind  the  smoke-stack  I  found  the  husband,  kneel- 
ing in  prayer.  His  face,  serrated  by  the  leprous  sores,  was 
held  toward  the  sun;  the  tears  were  streaming  down  his  cheeks 
and  disease-crt  features,  softening  them  by  their  agony  of  sup- 
plication. 

"William,"  I  said,  "your  wife  is  alongside.  Go  quickly  to 
the  place  I  shall  point  to  you,  and  you  will  see  her." 

The  man  sprang  up,  and  for  a  moment  was  perfectly  beauti- 
ful, such  a  joy  came  into  his  face.  Then  he  turned  and  ran  to 
the  place  I  indicated.  Half  an  hour  afterward  I  saw  him 
alone.  We  were  then  under  a  full  head  of  steam  passing  Dia- 
mond Head. 


356  SENTIMENTAL  SCRAPS. 

"Where  is  she?"  I  asked.  He  pointed  astern,  and  there,  not 
an  eighth  of  a  mile  away,  we  saw  her  swimming  toward  some 
fishing-boats,  her  soft  black  hair  floating  out  behind  her,  and 
her  arm  every  now  and  again  waving  to  us  good-by. 

©HE   SNOW-DI^IPT. 

Away  in  November,  before  the  Thanksgiving-day,  a  little 
snow  gathered  itself  in  a  heap  and  lay  down  in  a  quarry  on  the 
hill-side.  The  sun  passed  along  to  the  southland  without  look- 
ing in  on  it;  and  lying  there  so  low,  the  occasional  south  wind 
seemed  to  always  sweep  above  it.  Week  by  week  it  drew 
itself  more  gains,  which  it  hoarded  with  miserly  care.  The 
■winds — all  the  winds — became  its  agents  and  contributors,  and 
hardly  a  cloud  sailed  above  it  without  adding  something  to  its 
Increasing  storfc.  And  thus  it  grew  and  grew,  until  there  was 
no  room  for  it  to  grow  any  further,  after  which  it  lay  quietly  in 
its  place,  taking  its  ease  and  smiling  carelessly  at  the  world 
around  it. 

It  had  no  mission,  and  no  flower  was  claiming  it  as  a  pro- 
tector. No  stalk  of  wheat  was  resting  under  its  sheltering 
wing.  It  lived  simply  for  the  purpose  of  living,  hoarding  all 
its  accumulations,  giving  nothing,  doing  nothing,  and  never  for 
an  hour  softening  into  pity  for  any  unfortunate  that  needed  its 
care. 

But  the  sun  found  it  out,  and  calling  the  winds,  they  too 
asked  and  then  commanded  it  to  join  in  the  world's  work  of 
benevolence. 

"O  snow-drift,  use  your  wealth  for  the  good  of  those  *about 
you."  But  it  only  heard  and  did  nothing,  seeming  to  say  it  had 
no  responsibility  for  those  about  it. 

And  then  the  sun  and  wind  consulted,  and  determined  to 
make  it  do  the  good  it  would  not  do  itself.  The  one  took  up 
some  of  its  treasure,  and  carried  it  away  off*  toward  the  sky; 
the  other  loaded  itself  with  more,  and  bore  it  across  the  hills. 
In  a  thousand  directions  the  vast  fortune  was  distributed  around 
the  world,  until  at  length  the  lordly  drift  was  wasted  away — 
wasted  so  utterly  that  "lo,  he  was  not!" 

We  have  a  class  of  critics  dubbed  smellers — they  smell  at  a 
book,  and  write  a  notice  of  it. 


PL  UCK  AND  PRA  YER.  367 

©LU6I^  AND   ^I^AYEI^. 


BY  JOSEPHINE  POLLARD. 


There  wa'n't  any  use  o'  fretting, 

An'  I  told  Obadiah  so, 
For  if  we  couldn't  hold  on  to  things, 

We'd  just  got  to  let  'em  go. . 
There  were  lots  of  folks  that'd  suffer, 

Along  with  the  rest  of  us, 
An  it  didn't  seem  to  be  wu'th  our  while 

To  make  such  a  dreffle  fuss. 

To  be  sure,  the  barn  was  'most  empty, 

An'  corn  an'  pertaters  scarce, 
An'  not  much  of  any  thing  plenty  an'  cheap 

But  water — an'  apple-sass. 
But  then — as  I  told  Obadiah — 

It  wa'n't  any  use  to  groan. 
For  flesh  an'  blood  couldn't  stand  it;  an'  he 

Was  nothing  but  skin  and  bone. 

But  laws!  ef  you'd  onl}^  heerd  him, 

At  any  hour  of  the  night, 
A-prayin'  out  in  that  closet  there, 

'Twould  have  set  you  crazy  quite. 
I  patched  the  knees  of  those  trousers 

With  cloth  that  was  noways  thin. 
But  it  seemed  as  ef  the  pieces  wore  out 

As  fast  as  I  sot  'em  in. 

To  me  he  said  mighty  little 

Of  the  thorny  way  we  trod; 
But  at  least  a  dozen  times  a  da}' 

He  talked  it  over  with  God. 
Down  on  his  knee's  in  that  closet 

The  most  of  his  time  was  passed; 
For  Obadiah  knew  how  to  pray 

Much  better  than  how  to  fast. 


358  SENTIMENTAL  SGBAFS. 

But  I  am  that  way  contrairy 

That  ef  things  don't  go  jess  right, 
I  feel  hke  rollin'  my  sleeves  up  high 

An'  gettin'  ready  to  fight. 
An'  the  giants  I  slew  that  winter 

I  ain't  goin'  to  talk  about; 
An'  I  didn't  complain  to  God,  •    > 

Though  I  think  that  he  found  it  out. 

With  the  point  of  a  cambric  needle 

I  druv  the  wolf  from  the  door,  ^ 

For  I  knew  that  we  needn't  starve  to  death. 

Or  be  lazy,  because  we  were  poor. 
An'  Obadiah  he  wondered. 

An'  kep'  me  patchin'  his  knees, 
An'  thought  it  strange  how  the  meal  held  out, 

An'  stranger  we  didn't  freeze. 

But  I  said  to  myself  in  whispers, 

"God  knows  where  his  gift  descends; 
An'  'tisn't  always  that  faith  gits  down 

As  far  as  the  finger-ends." 
An'  I  wouldn't  have  no  one  reckon 

My  Obadiah  a  shirk; 
For  some,  you  know,  have  the  gift  to  pray, 

An'  others  the  gift  to  work. 

P  CQAI^JPYI^. 
An  extraordinary  tale  of  martyrdom  in  the  Russian  Church 
is  told  by  Figaro.  In  1853  the  steward  of  a  Russian  land-owner 
was  murdered  in  the  district  of  Kieff.  A  priest  named  Koby- 
towiez  was  accused  of  the  deed,  and,  in  spite  of  his  protests  of 
innocence,  he  was  transported  to  Siberia,  where  he  was  forgot- 
ten. The  other  day  an  old  peasant  admitted  on  his  death-bed 
that  he  was  the  murderer,  that  he  had  confessed  the  crime  to 
the  priest  in  question,  and  obtained  his  absolution.  The  pinest, 
however,  having  received  the  confession  under  the  usual  seal  of 
secrecy,  could  not  divulge  it,  and  preferred  to  undergo  the  ter- 
rible punishment  in  the  mines  of  Siberia  to  departing  from  his 
duty.  The  authorities  at  once  sought  for  the  priest  among  the 
prisoners,  but  he  had  died  a  few  months  before  the  disclosure. 


REMOBSE.  359 

FjEMOI^SB. 

An  American  writer  lately  endeavored  to  trace  the  after-his- 
tory of  nofcd  men,  who,  in  accordance  with  the  code  of  honor 
of  our  grandfathers,  had  met  and  "killed  their  man"  in  a  duel. 
Fifty  years  ago  no  gentleman  was  expected  to  find  life  endura- 
ble after  he  had  received  an  insult,  until  he  had  tried  to  kill  the 
man  who  had  offended  him. 

Some  of  the  anecdotes  recently  collected  show  how  power- 
ful was  the  social  pressure  which  drove  men  to  the  field,  and 
how  terrible,  in  some  cases  at  least,  was  the  remorse  that  fol- 
lowed. S.  S.  Prentiss  wrote  to  a  friend  that  his  convictions 
and  moral  teachings  all  were  so  much  opposed  to  dueling  that 
before  going  out  to  meet  his  antagonist  he  "did  nothing  but 
read  the  Bible  and  pray."  Yet  so  strong  was  the  force  of  public 
opinion  that  he  fought  several  duels.  "The  horror,"  he  said, 
"haunts  me  so  that  I  cannot  sleep,  and  I  totter  around  in  the 
day-time  like  an  old  man. 

O'Connell,  it  is  stated,  never  recovered  from  the  shock  of  the 
death  of  D'Esterre,  whom  he  killed.  He  never  went  to  church 
afterward  without  wrapping  up  the  "  murderous  hand,"  declar- 
ing that  he  "could  not  approach  his  Saviour  with  the  stain  in 
sight." 

Paull,  who  killed  Sir  Francis  Burdette,  suffered  so  much  that 
he  became  insane,  and  finally  committed  suicide. 

Mr.  Graves,  who  killed  Cilley  in  the  famous  duel,  was  an 
altered  man  ever  after,  and  with  his  dying  breath  protested 
against  the  folly  and  crime  of  the  murderous  practice. 

Now  that  dueling  has  fallen  into  disuse,  and  is  condemned 
by  society,  its  folly  and  crime  are  very  apparent  to  us,  and  we 
are  apt  to  be  severe  in  our  condemnation  of  it.  Young  men 
w^onder  at  the  incredible  weakness  and  wickedness  of  their 
grandfathers,  that  they  could  be  driven  to  commit  deliberate 
murder  merely  for  the  fear  of  the  censure  of  the  fashionable 
world. 

Yet  how  much  stronger  than  they  is  the  lad  who  goes  to  the 
gaming-table  or  the  bar,  and  slowly  murders  soul  and  body  be- 
cause he  is  afraid  to  oflTend  the  prejudices  of  society?  Or  he 
who,  to  keep  its  favor  by  maintaining  a  false  show  of  wealth, 
degrades  his  conscience  and  murders  his  good  name  by  gentle- 
manly theft.'' 


36U  SEWTUfENTAL  SCRAPS. 

"She  liOYBD  ME   POI^  CQyselp." 

Amid  the  roses,  lo!  my  dear  wife  stands, 
Herself  the  fairest,  sweetest  flower  of  all, 

I  think,  as  from  her  slender,  snow-white  hands 
She  lets  the  honey-petaled  blossoms  fall. 

Amid  the  roses,  while  the  daylight  pales. 
Our  home  stands  golden  in  the  setting  sun. 

And  'neath  our  vine-wreathed  porch  she  never  fails 
To  give  me  welcome  when  the  day  is  done. 

And  when  I  meet  her  happy,  love-lit  eyes, 
I  know  it  cannot  be  through  sordid  pelf 

That  I  have  won  my  life's  most  precious  prize- 
She  loved  and  took  me  simply  for — myself. 

Amid  the  roses,  lo!  my  darling  stands, 
Herself  the  sweetest,  fairest  flower  of  all, 

I  think,  as  from  her  slender,  snow-white  hands 
She  lets  the  honey-petaled  blossoms  fall. 

Goodman,  Spai^e  iphajp  ©i^ee. 

The  following  beautiful  lyric,  by  George  P.  Morris,  owes  its 
origin  to  a  circumstance  which  took  place  near  the  city  of  New 
York.  The  tree,  which  belonged  to  the  homestead  of  a  gentle- 
man whose  subsequent  successes  retrieved  the  misfortunes  of 
early  life,  was  threatened  with  the  ax.  As  it  was  about  to  be 
cut  down  for  fire-wood,  the  youngest  son  of  the  former  owner 
paid  its  value,  and  a  bond  was  executed  by  which  the  present 
owner  of  the  property  pledged  that  it  should  stand  forever. 
The  author  of  this  piece  was  present  at  the  bargain,  and  the 
gentleman,  turning  to  him,  said,  "  In  youth  it  sheltered  me,  and 
I'll  protect  it  now." 

The  song  was  set  to  music  by  Henry  Russell,  and  sung  by 
him  in  many  cities  in  Euroj^e.  As,  on  one  occasion,  he  was 
singing  it  at  Boulogne,  an  old  gentleman  among  the  auditors 
arose,  and  asked  with  much  feeling  whether  the  tree  was  spared. 
Mr.  Russell  assured  him  that  it  was,  and  the  old  gentleman  re- 
sumed his  seat  with  great  satisfaction,  amid  the  enthusiastic 
plaudits  of  the  whole  assembly: 


WOODMAN,  SPARE  THAT  TREE.  361 

Woodman,  spare  that  tree! 

Touch  not  a  single  bough! 
In  youth  it  sheltered  me, 

And  I'll  protect  it  now. 
'Twas  my  forefather's  hand 

That  placed  it  near  his  cot: 
There,  woodman,  let  it  stand — 

Thy  ax  shall  harm  it  not! 

That  old  familiar  tree. 

Whose  glory  and  renown 
Are  spread  o'er  land  and  sea. 

And  wouldst  thou  hew  it  down?    * 
Woodman,  forbear  thy  stroke! 

Cut  not  its  earth-bound  ties;  , 
O  spare  that  aged  oak. 

Now  towering  to  the  skies! 

When  but  an  idle  boy, 

I  sought  its  grateful  shade; 
In  all  their  gushing  joy. 

Here,  too,  my  sisters  played. 
My  mother  kissed  me  here; 

My  father  pressed  my  hand — 
Forgive  this  foolish  tear, 

But  let  that  old  oak  stand! 

My  heart-strings  round  thee  cling 

Close  as  thy  bark,  old  friend! 
Here  shall  the  wild-bird  sing, 

And  still  thy  branches  bend. 
Old  tree,  the  storm  still  brave! 

And,  woodman,  leave  the  spot — 
While  I've  a  hand  to  save, 

Thy  ax  shall  harm  it  not. 

The  owner  of  a  night-blooming  cereus,  in  Brooklyn,  finding 
the  plant  about  to  bloom,  set  it  out  in  front  of  his  house  and  lit 
up  his  lawn  brilliantly  in  order  to  give  the  public  a  chance  to 
enjoy  the  spectacle  for  nothing. 


362  SENTIMENTAL  SCRAPS. 


BY  MAEGAKET  J.  PRESTON. 


Beneath  the  desert's  rim  went  down  the  sun, 
And  from  their  tent-doors,  all  their  service  done, 
Came  forth  the  Hebrew  women,  one  by  one. 

For  Belzaleel,  the  master — who  had  rare 
And  curious  skill,  and  gifts  beyond  compare, 
Greater  than  old  Mizraim's  greatest  were — 

Had  bidden  them  approach  at  his  command, 

As  on  a  goat-skin  spread  upon  the  sand 

He  sat,  and  saw  them  gi"ouped  on  every  hand. 

And. soon,  as  came  to  pass,  a  silence  fell; 
He  spake,  and  said:  "Daughters  of  Israel, 
I  bring  a  word;  I  pray  ye,  hearken  well. 

God's  tabernacle,  by  his  pattern  made, 
Shall  fail  of  finish,  though  in  order  laid. 
Unless  ye  women  lift  your  hands  to  aid ! " 

A  murmur  ran  the  crouched  assembly  through. 
As  each  her  veil  about  her  closer  drew: 
"  We  are  hut  women!     What  can  women  do?" 

And  Belzaleel  made  answer:  "Not  a  man 
Of  air  our  tribes,  from  Judah  unto  Dan, 
Can  do  the  thing  that  just  ye  women  canl 

"The  gold  and  broidered  work  about  the  hem 
Of  the  priest's  robe — pomegranate  knop  and  stem — 
Man's  clumsy  fingers  cannot  compass  them. 

"The  sanctuary  curtains,  that  must  wreathen  be, 
And  bossed  with  cherubim — the  colors  three 
(Blue,  purple,  scarlet) — who  can  twine  but  ye? 

"Yours  is  the  very  skill  for  which  I  call; 
So  bring  your  cunning  needle-woi4c.     Though  small 
Your  gifts  may  seem,  the  Lord  hath  need  of  all?" 


THE  LEPER-POET.  868 

O  Christian  women!  for  the  temples  set 
Throughout  earth's  desert  lands,  do  you  forget 
The  sanctuary  curtains  need  your  broidery  yett 

©HE    LiEPEI^-POBT. 

The  following  touching  passage  was  written  by  the  late  poet 
Heine — the  last  words  he  ever  wrote  for  publication: 

" '  In  the  year  1480,'  says  the  Limburg  Chronicle, '  everybody  was 
piping  and  singing  lays  more  lovely  and  delightful  than  any 
which  had  ever  yet  been  known  in  German  lands,  and  all  peo- 
ple, young  and  old,  the  women  especially,  went  quite  mad  about 
them,  so  that  their  melody  was  heard  from  morning  to  night. 
Only,'  the  Chronicle  adds, '  the  author  of  these  songs  was  a  young 
clerk,  afflicted  with  leprosy,  who  lived  alone  in  a  desolate  place, 
hidden  from  all  the  world.'  You  doubtless  know,  dear  reader, 
what  a  fearful  malady  this  leprosy  was  in  the  Middle  Ages,  and 
how  the  poor  wretches  who  fell  under  this  incurable  sickness 
were  banished  from  all  society,  and  allowed  to  come  near  no 
human  being.  Like  living  corpses  they  wandered  forth,  closely 
wrapped  from  head  to  foot,  their  hood  drawn  over  their  face, 
and  carrying  in  their  hand  a  rattle  called  a  Lazarus-rattle,  with 
which  they  gave  notice  of  their  approach,  that  every  one  might 
get  betimes  out  of  their  way.  This  poor  clerk,  then,  whose 
fame  as  a  poet  and  singer  the  JJimburg  Chronicle  extoh,  was  just 
such  a  leper,  and  he  sat  desolate  in  the  dreary  waste  of  his  mis- 
ery, while  all  Germany,  joyous  and  tuneful,  sung  and  piped  his 
lays.  .  .  .  Ofttimes,  in  my  somber  visions  of  the  night,  I  think 
I  see  before  me  the  poor  clerk  of  the  Limburg  Chronicle,  my 
brother  in  Apollo,  and  his  sad,  suffering  eyes  stare  strangely  at 
me  from  under  his  hood,  but  at  the  same  moment  he  seems  to 
vanish,  and,  dying  away  in  the  distance,  like  the  echo  of  a 
dream,  I  hear  the  jarring  creak  of  the  Lazarus- rattle." 

There  are  times  when  the  spirit,  oppressed  with  pain,  worn 
with  toil,  tired  of  tumult,  sick  at  the  sight  of  guilt,  wounded  in 
its  love,  baffled  in  its  hope,  and  trembling  in  its  faith,  longs  tor 
the  "wings  of  a  dove,"  that  it  might  fly  away,  and  take  refuge 
amidst  the  "shady  bowers,"  the  "vernal  airs,"  the  "roses  with- 
out thorns,"  the  quiet,  the  beauty,  the  loveliness,  of  Eden. 


364  SENTIMENTAL  SCRAPS. 

'  SlLENiP   Gl^IEPS. 
There  are  sighs  unheayed,  there  are  tears  unwept; 
There  are  lutes  unstrung,  there  are  harps  unswept; 
There  are  griefs  unknown,  there  afe  thoughts  untold; 
There  are  hearts  that  beat  warm  when  they  seem  but  cold; 
There  are  loves  unlost  when  they  seem  so  dead; 
There  ai-e  wounds  unseen  that  have  often  bled, 
For  the  soul  feels  most  when  in  silence  deep 
It  lives  unheard  as  the  winds  in  their  sleep. 

There  are  sorrows  dark  that  o'ercloud  our  way, 
And  that  shade  the  heart  in  our  life's  glad  day; 
There  are  joys  unfelt,  there  are  hopes  unfed; 
There  are  pledges  hushed,  thei^e  are  vows  unsaid; 
There  are  flowers  dead  among  the  spring  leaves; 
There  are  treasures  lost  among  golden  sheaves; 
There  are  memories  sweet,  and  we  love  them  well; 
But  the  eye  grows  dim  as  their  currents  swell. 

There  are  friendships  gone  like  the  dews  of  morn; 
There  are  smiles  now  turned  to  the  coldest  scorn; 
There  are  dreams  we  loved  in  the  days  gone  by. 
When  the  sun  was  warm  and  so  bright  our  sky, 
That  are  passed  like  spray  on  the  ocean's  breast, 
When  the  storm  has  ceased  and  her  waters  rest. 
And  the  heart  grows  sad  that  its  loves  have  fled, 
That  its  hopes  are  gone  and  its  garlands  dead. 

There  are  scenes  we  knew  that  are  faded  now; 
There  are  gathered  wreaths  and  a  shaded  brow; 
There  are  songs  unsung  that  we  loved  to  hear. 
When  the  heart  was  fresh  and  its  pleasures  near; 
There  are  footsteps  hid  in  the  sands  of  time; 
There  are  voices  stilled  in  this  earthly  clime, 
But  the  echoes  come  from  the  boundless  shore 
That  lies  beyond  in  the  vast  evermore. 

There  are  prayei's  we  breathe  for  the  ones  we  love, 
Whilst  we  linger  here  from  our  home  above; 
Yet  we  smile  to  think  that  our  griefs  will  cease, 
And  our  hearts  rejoice  in  an  endless  peace. 


BEAUTIFUL  ILLUSTRATION.  366 

Far  away  above  the  ethereal  blue, 
Where'each  soul  is  glad  and  each  heart  is  true, 
We  will  live  in  love,  and  our  radiant  beam 
Will  inspire  the  soul  with  a  heavenly  dream. 

Flowei^s. 

Who  would  wish  to  live  without  flowers?  Where  would 
the  poet  fly  for  images  of  beauty  if  they  were  to  perish?  Arc 
they  not  the  emblems  of  loveliness  and  innocence — the  living 
types  of  all  that  is  joleasing  and  graceful?  We  compare  young 
lips  to  the  rose,  and  the  white  brow  to  the  lily;  the  winning 
eye  gathers  its  glow  from  the  violet;  the  sweet  voice  is  like  a 
breeze  kissing  its  way  through  flowers.  We  hang  delicate 
blossoms  on  the  ringlets  of  the  bride,  and  strew  her  path  with 
fragrant  bells  as  she  leaves  the  church.  We  place  them  around 
the  face  of  the  dead,  and  they  become  symbols  of  our  affections. 
They  come  upon  us  in  spring  like  the  recollection  of  a  dream 
which  hovers  about  us  in  sleep,  peopled  with  shadowy  beauties 
and  purple  delights,  fancy-broidered.  Sweet  flowers  that  bring 
before  our  eyes  scenes  of  childhood — faces  remembered  in 
youth;  the  mossy  bank  by  the  wayside,  where  we  so  often  sat 
for  many  hours  drinking  in  the  beauty  of  the  primrose  with  our 
eyes;  the  sheltered  glen,  darkly  green,  filled  with  the  perfume 
of  violets  that,  in  their  intense  blue,  shone  like  another  sky 
spread  on  the  earth;  the  laughter  of  merry  voices;  the  sweet 
song  of  the  maiden,  the  downcast  eyes,  the  spreading  blush, 
the  kiss  ashamed  at  its  own  sound — are  all  brought  back  to 
memory  by  a  flower. 

Beautiful  Illusti^ation. 

If  a  child  had  been  born,  and  spent  all  his  life  in  the  Mam- 
moth Cave,  how  impossible  would  it  be  for  him  to  comprehend 
the  upper  world!  Parents  might  tell  him  of  its  life,  its  light, 
its  beauty,  and  its  sounds  of  joy;  they  might  heap  up  the  sands 
into  mounds,  and  try  to  show  him  by  stalactites  how  grass, 
flowers,  and  trees  grow  out  of  the  ground;  till  at  length,  with 
laborious  thinking,  the  child  would  fancy  he  had  gained  a  true 
idea  of  the  unknown  land. 


366  SENTIMENTAL  SCRAPS. 

fl    r^AILWAY    LCESSON. 


BY  C.  H.  SHELDON. 


It  was  a  hot,  dusty  day,  when  two  or  three  passengers  en- 
tered the  train  on  the  Iowa  Division  of  the  Chicago  and  North- 
western Road,  at  Bridgewater.  Among  them  was  a  stylishly- 
dressed  young  man,  who  wore  a  stiff  white  hat,  patent-leather 
shoes,  the  neatest  of  cuffs,  and  shiniest  of  stand-up  collars.  He 
carried  a  cane,  and  carefully  brushed  the  dust  from  the  seat  in 
fi'ont  of  me  before  he  sat  down. 

Just  across  the  aisle,  opposite  him,  sat  a  tired  woman,  holding 
a  sick  baby.  I  never  saw  on  any  face  a  more  discouraged,  worn- 
out,  despairing  look  than  that  on  the  mother's  face.  The  baby 
was  too  sick  even  to  cry.  It  lay  moaning  and  gasping  in  its 
mother's  lap,  while  the  dust  and  cinders  flew  in  at  the  open  door 
and  windows.  The  heat  and  the  dust  made  traveling,  even  for 
strong  men,  almost  unbearable. 

I  had  put  down  the  stylish  young  man  in  front  of  me  as  a 
specimen  of  the  dude  family,  and  was  making  a  mental  calcu- 
lation on  the  probable  existence  of  brains  under  the  new  hat, 
when,  to  my  astonishment,  he  leaned  over  the  aisle  and  said  to 
the  woman: 

"  Madam,  can  I  be  of  any  assistance  to  you?  Just  let  me  hold 
your  baby  awhile.     You  look  very  tired." 

The  w^oman  seemed  much  surprised,  though  the  request  was 
made  in  the  politest  and  most  delicate  manner. 

"  O,  thank  you,  sir!"  said  she,  tremulously.  "  I  am  tired,"  and 
her  lips  quivered. 

"  I  think  the  baby  will  come  to  me,"  said  the  young  man,  with 
a  smile.  "Poor  thing!  it's  too  sick  to  make  any  objection.  I 
will  hold  it  carefully,  madam,  while  you  lie  down  and  rest  awhile. 
Have  you  come  far.''" 

"From  the  Black  Hills." 

"What!  by  stage?" 

"Yes;  but  the  baby  was  well  when  I  started.  I  am  on  my 
way  home  to  friends  in  the  East.     My  husband — my" — 

"Ah,  yes;  I  see,  I  see!"  continued  the  young  man,  in  a  sym- 
pathetic tone,  as  he  glanced  at  the  bit  of  crape  in  the  little  trav- 
eling hat.     By  this  time  he  had  taken  the  baby,  and  was  holding 


A  RAIL  WA  Y  LESSON.  867 

it  in  his  arms.    '*  Now  you  can  lie  down  and  rest  a  little.    Have 
you  far  to  go  ? " 

"To  Connecticut,"  replied  the  woman,  almost  with  a  sob,  as 
she  wearily  arranged  a  shawl  over  a  valise  and  prepared  to  lie 
down  in  the  seat. 

"Ah,  yes;  I  see!  And  you  haven't  money  enough  to  go  in 
a  sleeping-car,  have  you,  madam?"  The  poor  woman  blushed 
faintly  and  put  one  hand  over  her  face,  while  the  tears  dropped 
between  her  worn  fingers. 

I  looked  out  of  the  window,  and  a  mist  came  over  my  eyes, 
while  I  changed  my  calculation  of  the  young  man's  mental  abil- 
ity. He  looked  thoughtfully  and  tenderly  down  at  the  baby, 
and  in  a  short  time  the  mother  was  fast  asleep. 

A  woman  sitting  across  the  aisle  from  me,  who  had  heard  as 
much  of  the  conversation  as  I  had,  came  and  offered  to  relieve 
the  young  man  of  his  charge.  "  I  am  ashamed  of  myself  foi 
not  offering  to  take  the  baby  from  the  mother  before.  Poor  little 
thing!     It's  asleep." 

"So  it  is;  I'll  surrender  it  to  you  now,"  said  he,  with  a  cheer- 
ful smile. 

At  this  point  the  train  stopped  at  a  station,  and  the  young 
man  rose  in  his  seat,  took  off  his  hat,  and  said  in  a  clear,  ear- 
nest voice:  "Ladies  and  gentlemen,  here  is  an  opportunity  for 
each  one  of  us  to  show  that  we  have  been  brought  up  in  a 
Christian  land,  and  have  had  Christian  fathers  and  mothers. 
This  poor  woman"  [pointing  to  the  sleeping  mothei]  "has 
come  all  the  way  from  the  Black  Hills,  and  is  on  her  way  to 
Connecticut.  Her  husband  is  dead,  and  her  baby  is  ill.  She 
hasn't  money  enough  to  travel  in  a  sleeping-cai",  and  is  all  tired 
out  and  discoui-aged.     What  will  you  do  about  it?" 

"Do!"  cried  a  big  man  down  near  the  water-cooler,  rising 
excitedly,  "Do!  Take  up  a  collection — the  American  citizen's 
last  resort  in  distress.     I'll  give  five  dollars." 

The  effect  was  electrical.  The  hat  went  around,  and  the  way 
the  silver  dollars,  and  quarters,  and  ten-cent  pieces  rattled  in  it 
would  have  done  any  true  heart  good. 

I  wish  I  could  describe  the  look  on  the  woman's  face  when 
she  awoke,  and  the  money  was  given  to  her.  She  tried  to  thank 
us,  and  failed;  she  broke  down  completely.  But  we  didn't  need 
any  thanks. 


368  SENTIMENTAL  SCRAPS. 

There  was  a  sleeping-car  on  the  train,  and  the  young  man 
saw  the  mother  and  child  transferred  to  it  at  once.  I  did  not 
hear  what  she  said  to  him,  when  he  left  her,  but  it  inust  have 
been  a  hearty  "God  bless  you!" 

More  than  one  of  us  in  that  car  took  that  little  lesson  to  him- 
self, and  I  learned  that  even  stylish  as  well  as  poor  clothes  may 
cover  a  noble  heart. 

Dbgision. 

It  is  interesting  and  profitable  to  note  the  effects  on  the  body 
of  combined  decided  mental  and  accompanying  physical  action. 
Hesitation  in  the  performance  of  the  simplest  act  brings  weari- 
ness. Walk  straight  up  to  the  person  that  you,  from  diffidence, 
fear,  or  other  cause,  dislike  to  address,  and  though  the  interview 
be  a  trying  one,  still  there  comes  a  feeling  of  relief  when  it  is 
over.  The  strain  is  off.  But  half  an  hour  of  hesitation,  half 
an  hour  of  walking  up  and  down  before  the  door  hesitating  to 
enter,  and  all  ending  in  a  total  failure  to  enter,  brings  its  wearied 
body  and  wearied,  dissatisfied  mind.  A  mind  decided  as  to  the 
performance  of  a  number  of  trifling  acts,  and  doing  them,  im- 
plies a  mind  and  body  far  more  at  rest  than  with  one  who 
*'  doesn't  know  exactly  what  to  do." 

There  is  reason  for  believing  that  the  habit  of  mind  which 
lives — regarding  the  performance  of  the  thousand  things  which 
enter  into  the  sum  of  our  daily  existence — in  a  chronic  condition 
of  "to  do  or  not  to  do  "  has  been,  through  its  action  on  the  body, 
a  fruitful  cause  first  of  weakness,  and  secondly  of  sickness. 
Fear  of  deciding  on  the  best  course  sometimes  prevents  minds 
from  deciding  at  all.  Indecision,  and  consequent  dissatisfaction, 
in  such  cases  may  prevail  for  years.  The  face  in  time  assumes 
a  cast  of  feature  in  consonance  with  the  mind's  condition.  It 
is  not  a  pleasant  face.  It  is  the  face  indicative  of  a  mind  not 
"  made  up." 

Ol^ATOI^Y. 

This  is  that  eloquence  the  ancients  represented  as  lightning, 
bearing  down  every  opposer;  this  the  power  which  has  turned 
whole  assemblies  into  astonishment,  admiration,  and  awe;  that 
is  described  by  the  torrent,  the  flame,  and  every  other  instance 
of  irresistible  impetuosity. —  Goldsmith. 


COUNTRY  COUSINS.  368 

QJouNTi^Y  Cousins. 

How  dear  to  my  heart  are  the  sweet  country  cousins, 

When  dog-days  of.  summer  begin  to  draw  near; 
When  bricks  have  grown  hot  and  when  sunstrokes  by  dozens 

Fill  body  with  anguish  and  bosom  with  fear! 
The  green,  waving  fields  and  the  sweet-smelling  breezes, 

The  'scaping  from  turmoil  to  quiet  and  calm, 
The  rich  creamy  milk,  which  the  ready  hand  seizes. 

And  e'en  the  brown  cousins  who  live  on  the  farm — 
The  plain  country  cousins,  the  uncultured  cousins,     • 

The  sweet  country  cousins  who  live  on  the  farm! 

The  sweet  country  cousins — O  aren't  they  a  treasure! 

How  handy  to  have  at  the  vacation  time. 
And  paying  one's  board  is  a  too  costly  pleasure. 

When  all  can  be  had  without  spending  a  dime! 
How  pleasant  to  live  on  rich  cream  and  ripe  berries. 

Fresh,  golden-hued  butter,  and  cakes  light  and  warm, 
Free  use  of  the  horses,  the  carts,  and  the  wherries 

Of  sweet  country  cousins  who  live  on  the  farm — 
The  plain  country  cousins,  the  uncultured  cousins, 

The  sweet  country  cousins  who  live  on  the  farm! 

'How  dear  are  the  sweet  country  couSins  in  summer, 

How  fragrant  the  meadows,  romantic  the  dawn! 
But  straightway  our  faces  begin  to  grow  grummer 

At  thoughts  of  their  visit  next  winter  to  town. 
The  theater,  the  concert,  the  lecture,  the  money 

Expended  in  tickets — the  thought  gives  a  qualm! 
The  sequel  of  summer  is  not  quite  so  funny. 

Why  don't  the  sweet  cousins  remain  on  the  farm? 
The  brown-visaged  cousins,  the  great,  awkward  cousins, 

The  bothersome  cousins  should  stay  on  the  farm. 

The  old  Hindoo  saw,  in  his  dream,  the  human  race  led  out  to 
its  various  fortunes.  First,  men  were  in  chains  which  went 
back  to  an  iron  hand.  Then  he  saw  them  led  by  threads  from 
the  brain,  which  went  upward  to  an  unseen  hand.  The  first 
was  despotism,  iron,  and  ruling  by  force.  The  last  was  civili- 
zation, ruling  by  ideas. 
24 


370  SENTIMENTAL  SCRAPS. 

0)AI^F^IAGE    NOT   THE   €ND   OP    lilPB. 


BY  JOHN  BUSKIN. 


There  is  another  difference  in  the  woof  of  a  Waverley  novel 
from  the  cobweb  of  a  modern  one,  which  depends  on  Scott's 
larger  view  of  human  life.  Marriage  is  by  no  means,  in  his 
conception  of  man  and  woman,  the  most  important  business 
of  their  existence,  nor  love  the  only  reward  to  be  proposed  to 
their  virtue  or  exertion.  It  is  not,  in  his  reading  of  the  laws  of 
Providence,  a  necessity  that  virtue  should,  either  by  love  or  any 
other  external  blessing,  be  rewarded  at  all;  and  marriage  is  in 
all  cases  thought  of  as  a  constituent  of  the  happiness  of  life, 
but  not  as  its  only  interest,  still  less  its  only  aim.  And  upon 
analyzing  with  some  care  the  motive  of  his  principal  stories,  we 
shall  often  find  that  the  love  in  them  is  merely  a  light  by  which 
the  sterner  features  of  character  are  to  be  irradiated,  and  that 
the  marriage  of  the  hero  is  as  subordinate  to  the  main  bent  of 
the  story  as  Henry  V.'s  courtship  of  Catherine  is  to  the  battle 
of  Agincourt.  Nay,  the  fortunes  of  the  person  who  is  nomi- 
nally the  subject  of  the  tale  are  often  little  more  thar^  a  back- 
ground on  which  grander  figures  are  to  be  drawn  and  deeper 
fates  foreshadowed.  The  judgments  between  the  faith  and^ 
chivalry  of  Scotland  at  Drumelog  and  Bothwell  Bridge  owe 
little  of  their  interest,  in  the  mind  of  a  sensible  reader,  to  the 
fact  that  the  captain  of  the  Popinjay  is  carried  a  prisoner  to  one 
battle  and  returns  a  prisoner  from  the  other;  and  Scott  himself, 
while  he  watches  the  white  sail  that  bears  Qiieen  Mary  for  the 
last  time  from  her  native  land,  very  nearly  forgets  to  finish  his 
novel,  or  to  tell  us — and  with  small  sense  of  any  consolation  to 
be  had  out  of  that  minor  circumstance — that  "  Roland  and  Cath- 
erine were  united,  spite  of  their  differing  faiths."  Neither  let 
it  be  thought  for  an  instant  that  the  slight  and  sometimes  scorn-  ^ 
ful  glance  with  which  Scott  passes  over  scenes  which  a  novel- 
ist of  our  own  day  would  have  analyzed  with  the  airs  of  a  phi- 
losopher and  painted  with  the  curiosity  of  a  gossip,  indicate  any 
absence  in  his  heart  of  sympathy  with  the  great  and  sacred 
elements  of  personal  happiness.  An  era  like  ours,  which  has 
with  diligence  and  ostentation  swept  its  heart  clear  of  all  the 
passions  once  known  as  loyalty,  patriotism,  and  piety,  necessa- 


THAT  BOY.  871 

rily  magnified  the  apparent  force  of  the  one  remaining  senti- 
ment  which  sighs  through  the  barren  chambers  or  clings  inex- 
tricably round  the  chasms  of  ruin;  nor  can  it  but  regard  with 
awe  the  unconquerable  spirit  which  still  tempts  or  betrays  the 
sagacities  of  selfishness  into  error  or  frenzy  which  is  believed 
to  be  love. 

iNYIOLABIiB. 

A  friend's  secret  is  ever  his  property,  even  when  confided  to 
another.  The  confidant  should  lock  it  up,  even  from  his  own 
thoughts.  He  should  not  be  content  with  refraining  from  be- 
traying it  to  others;  he  should  also  refrain  from  betraying  it  to 
himself  If  a  man  consigns  a  casket  containing  treasure  to  the 
care  of  another,  he  will  justly  feel  that  his  confidence  has  been 
to  a  degree  violated  if  he  comes  to  know  that  the  latter  has 
been  in  the  habit  of  unlocking  the  casket  and  poring  over  its 
contents  day  after  day  as  if  it  were  his  own,  and  that,  too,  in  an 
exposed  position.  So  with  the  secret.  Though  confided  to  a 
friend,  it  still  belongs  to  him  by  whom  it  was  confided,  who  has 
his  own  reasons  for  performing  this  act  of  friendship;  and  to 
have  it  continually  before  the  mind  is  not  only  making,  in  one 
sense,  another's  property  one's  own,  but  it  is  exposed  to  the 
danger  of  escaping  at  any  unguarded  moment  in  one  form  or 
another,  sufficiently  at  least  to  give  grounds  to  surmises  which 
may  closely  bear  upon  the  truth. 

©HAJP  Boy. 

It  is  hard  to  believe  that  that  noisy  boy,  whose  hands  are 
always  on  the  most  intimate  terms  with  all  manner  of  grime 
and  dirt;  whose  hair  is  never  combed,  save  on  compulsion; 
whose  clothing  samples  every  thing  it  comes  near,  till  "  it  is  a 
sight  to  behold;"  whose  hooting  and  yelling  are  constant  re- 
minders of  aboriginal  memoirs,  and  whose  whistling  is  an  ag- 
gregation of  three  steam  bands  and  a  brace  of  locomotives — it 
is  hard  to  believe  that  he  will  ever  become  transmogrified  into 
the  amiable  and  tractable  young  gentleman  so  particular  in  the 
fit  of  his  coat,  the  shade  of  his  kids,  and  the  immaculate  white- 
ness of  his  shirt-front,  so  excruciatingly  clean  of  person,  and 
so  eminently  proper  in  word,  act,  and  deed.  But  he  will  be. 
The  answer  to  this  enigma  is — calico. 


372  SENTIMENTAL  SCRAPS. 

She  Old  ^ipb. 

By  the  bed  the  old  man,  waiting,  sat  in  vigil  sad  and  tender, 
Where  his  aged  wife  lay  djang;  and  the  twilight  shadows 
brown 
Slowly  from  the  wall  and  window  chased  the  sunset's  golden 
splendor 

Going  down. 

"Is  it  night?"  she  whispered,  waking  (for  her  spirit  seemed  to 
hover 
Lost  between  the  next  world's  sunrise  and  th§  bed-time  cares 
of  this), 
And  the  old  man,  weak  and  tearful,  trembling  as  he  bent  above 
her, 

Answered,  "Yes." 

"Are  the  children  in?"  she  asked  him.    Could  he  tell  her?    All 
the  treasures 
Of  their  household   lay  in  silence  many  years  beneath  the 
snow, 
But  the  heart  "was  with  them  living,  back  among  her  toils  and 
pleasures 

Long  ago. 

And  again  she  called  at  dew-fall,  in  the  sweet  old    surnmer 
weather, 
"Where  is  little  Charley,  father?     Frank  and  Robert — have 
they  come?" 
"They  are  safe,"  the  old  man  faltered.     "All  the  children  are 

together, 
'  .Safe  at  home." 

Then  he  murmured  gentle  soothings,  but  his  grief  grew  strong 
and  stronger. 
Till  it  choked  and   stilled   him   as  he  held  and   kissed   her 
wrinkled  hand; 
For  her  soul,  far  out  of  hearing,  could  his  fondest  words  no 
longer 

Understand. 


STARS  BEYOND.  878 

Still  the  p£<lc  lips  stammered  questions,  lullabies  and  broken 
verses, 
Nursery  prattle — all  the  language  of  a  mother's  loving  deeds — 
While  the  midnight  round  the  mourner,  left  to  sorrow's  bitter 
mercies, 

Wrapped  its  weeds. 

There  was  stillness  on  the  pillow — and  the  old  man  listened 
lonely — 
Till  they  led  him  from  the  chamber,  with  the  burden  on  his 
breast, 
For  the  wife  of  seventy  years,  his  manhood's  early  love  and 
only. 

Lay  at  rest. 

" Fare-you-well,"  he   sobbed,  "my  Sarah;   you  will  meet  the 
babes  before  me; 
'Tis  a  little  while,  for  neither  can  the  parting  long  abide, 
And  you'll  come  and  call  me  soon,  I  know,  and  Heaven  will 
restore  me 

To  your  side." 


It  was  even  so.  The  spring-time,  in  the  step  of  winter  treading, 
Scarcely  shed  its  orchard-blossoms  ere  the  old  man  closed  his 
eyes, 
And  they  buried  him  by  Sarah — and  they  had  their  "diamond- 
wedding" 

In  the  skies. 

Staffs  Beyond. 

The  setting  of  a  great  hope  is  like  the  setting  of  the  sun. 
The  brightness  of  our  life  is  gone,  shadows  of  the  evening  fall 
behind  us,  and  the  world  seems  but  adim  reflection  of  itself — 
a  broader  shadow.  We  look  forward  into  the  lonely  night; 
the  soul  withdraws  itself.  Then  stars  arise,  and  the  night  is 
holy. 

Honorable  actions  ought  to  succeed  honorable  sayings,  lest 
they  lose  their  reputation. 


374  SENTIMENTAL  SCRAPS. 

f5  Contented  J^bai^jf. 

A  king  went  into  his  garden  one  morning,  and  found  every 
thing  withered  and  dying.  He  asked  an  oak  that  stood  near 
the  gate  what  the  trouble  was.  He  found  that  it  was  sick  of 
hfe,  and  determined  to  die,  because  it  was  not  tall  and  beautiful 
like  the  pine.  The  pine  was  out  of  all  heart  because  it  could 
not  bear  grapes  like  the  vine.  The  vine  was  going  to  throw  its 
life  away  because  it  could  not  stand  erect  and  have  as  fine  fruit 
as  the  pomegranate;  and  so  on,  throughout  the  garden.  Com- 
ing to  a  heart's-ease,  he  found  its  bright  little  face  lifted,  as  full 
of  cheerfulness  as  ever. 

Said  the  king:  "Well,  heart's-ease,  I  am  glad  to  find  one 
brave  little  flower  in  this  general  discouragement  and  dying. 
You  don't  seem  one  bit  disheartened." 

"No,  your  majesty;  I  know  I  am  of  small  account,  but  I  con- 
cluded you  wanted  a  heart's-ease  when  you  planted  me.  If  you 
had  wanted  an  oak,  or  pine,  or  a  pomegranate,  you  would  have 
set  one  out.  So  I  am  bound  to  be  the  best  heart's-ease  that  ever 
I  can." 

BBALfiFIPULf  (SEMBIPBI^IBS. 

In  olden  times  no  blossoms  were  planted  where  the  dead  were 
sleeping,  and  no  grounds  were  laid  out  with  mounds,  ravines, 
and  running  streams.  The  place  was  only  a  "  grave-yard,"  sur- 
rounded by  a  rough  stone-wall,  within  which  bushes  and  bram- 
bles grew  in  rank  luxuriance.  But  to-day  the  army  of  flowers, 
with  its  bright  and  beautiful  banners,  has  charged  upon  the 
thorny  hosts  of  bramble,  bush,  and  briar,  and  driven  them  from 
"  God's  Acre,"  and  has  set  a  guard  of  statuary  at  the  gates  of  the 
cemetery. 

"We  adorn  our  graves,"  says  Evelyn,  "with  flowers  and  red- 
olent plants,  just  emblems  of  the  life  of  man,  which  has  been 
compared  in  the  Holy  Scriptures  to  those  fading  beauties  whose 
roots,  being  buried  in  dishonor,  rise  again  in  glory." 

It  is  good  to  be  sometimes  reminded  of  death  and  the  grave. 
A  memento  mori  is  not  necessarily  sad  and  forbidding,  nor  is  the 
dirge-note  always  a  fearful  sound;  for  to  the  mind  rightly 
trained  and  constituted  they  speak  of  a  blissful  heieafter  and 
a  glorified  existence,  for  which  this  is  but  a  state  of  preparation. 


do  your  beht.  87b- 

Only  a  ^oi^d. 

Only  a  word!  but  the  word  was  a  legion 
Of  giant  reproaches  in  armor  of  steel, 
Trampling  the  delicate  blooms  of  the  region 
That  feeling  hath  planted,  with  furious  heel. 
Only  a  word!     Only  a  word! 
But  a  legion  with  cruelty  spurred. 

Only  a  word!  but  the  word  was  a  net- work 

That  tangled  the  reason  and  wearied  the  brain, 
Caught  in  its  meshes  the  beautiful  fretwork 

That  Fancy  hath  sculptured,  and  broke  it  in  twain. 
Only  a  word!     Only  a  word! 
But  ensnaring  the  senses  that  heard. 

Only  a  word!  but  the  word  was  a  quiver 

So  full  of  suspicions  and  bristling  with  fears; 
Keen  were  the  barbs^  making  friendship  to  shiver — 
How  torn  and  discolored  its  plumage  appears! 
Only  a  word!     Only  a  word! 
Bearing  death  to  the  bright-winged  bird. 

Only  a  word!  but  the  word  was  a  casket 

Of  fragrant  forgiveness,  with  carvings  so  rare, 
Laden  with  lov£,  and  the  one  who  shall  ask  it 
A  necklace  more  precious  than  rubies  shall  wear. 
Only  a  word!     Only  a  word! 
But  how  precious  to  them  that  have  erred! 

Do  your^  BESIP. 

This  is  the  duty  of  all.  Any  thing  less  than-  this  is  degrading 
to  any  man.  Whatever  your  business,  never  be  satisfied  with 
any  thing  less  than  the  very  best  you  can  do  at  the  time;  and 
do  better  next  time  if  you  can.  You  are  then  sure  of  progress. 
Remember,  the  question  is  not  how  much  you  can  do,  but  how 
well  you  can  do  it.  This  is  your  true  measure  of  success  in  any 
vocation  of  life.  A  man  in  high  position,  when  taunted  with 
once  being  a  cobbler,  said,  "Did  I  not  do  my  work  well?"  That 
is  the  question,  whether  cobbler,  legislator,  or  minister  of  the 
gospel — Did  I  not  do  my  work  well?     Do  your  best. 


376  SENTIMENTAL  SCRAPS. 

ShINGS   IPHAIT   nBYBI^   DiB. 

The  pure,  the  bright,  the  beautiful. 

That  stirred  our  hearts  in  youth. 
The  impulse  to  a  wordless  prayer. 

The  dreams  of  love  and  truth; 
The  longings  after  something  lost, 

The  spirit's  yearning  cry. 
The  sti'ivings  after  bitter  hopes — 

These  things  can  never  die. 

The  timid  hand  stretched  forth  to  aid 

A  brother  in  his  need. 
The  kindly  w^ords  in  grief's  dark  hour, 

That  proves  a  friend  indeed; 
The  plea  of  mercy  softly  breathed, 

When  justice  threatened  high,  - 
The  sorrow  of  a  contrite  heart — 

These  things  will  never  dte. 

The  memory  of  a  clasping  hand, 

The  pressure  of  a  kiss, 
And  all  the  trifles  sweet  and  frail 

That  make  up  love's  first  bliss; 
If  with  a  firm,  unchanging  faith,  • 

And  holy  trust  and  high. 
These  hands  have  clasped,  these  lips  have  met, 

These  things  shall  never  die. 

The  cruel  and  the  bitter  word 

That  wounded  as  it  fell, 
The  chilling  want  of  sympathy, 

We  feel,  but  never  tell; 
The  hard  repulse  that  chills  the  heart 

Where  hopes  are  bounding  high 
In  an  unfading  record  kept — 

These  things  can  never  die. 

Let  nothing  pass,  for  every  hand 

Must  find  some  work  to  do; 
Lose  not  a  chance  to  waken  love. 

Be  firm,  and  just,  arid  true. 


THEY  MET  BY  CHANCE.  377 

So  shall  a  light  that  cannot  fade 

Beam  to  thee  from  on  high; 
An  angel  voice  will  say  to  thee, 

These  things  shall  never  die. 

llOOV,   OUT. 

BY  JOHN  PLOUGHMAN. 


To  get  through  this  world  a  man  must  look  about  him,  and 
even  sleep  with  one  eye  open;  for  there  are  many  baits  for 
fishes,  many  nets  for  birds,  and'  many  traps  for  men.  While 
foxes  are  so  common,  we  must  not  be  geese.  There  is  a  very 
great  difference  in  this  matter  among  people  of  my  acquaint- 
ance; many  see  more  with  one  eye  than  others  with  two,  and 
many  have  fine  eyes  and  cannot  see  a  jot.  All  heads  are  not 
sense-boxes.  Some  are  so  cunning  that  they  suspect  every- 
body, and  so  live  all  their  lives  in  miserable  fear  of  their  neigh- 
bors; others  are  so  simple  that  every  knave  takes  them  in,  and 
makes  his  penny  of  them.  One  man  tries  to  see  through  a 
brick  wall,  and  hurts  his  eyes;  while  another  finds  out  a  hole  in 
it,  and  sees  as  far  as  he  pleases.  Some  work  at  the  mouth  of  a 
furnace,  and  are  never  scorched,  and  others  bum  their  hands  at 
the  fire  when  they  only  mean  to  warm  them 

©HEY  (QBip  BY  Change. 

In  a  city  a  man  may  ride  up  and  down  on  the  cars  with  an- 
other, stand  at  the  polls  with  him,  attend  the  same  church,  and 
meet  him  daily,  and  yet  not  know  his  name  for  years.  Such  an 
instance  had  the  finish  put  to  it  yesterday.  _  A  citizen  coming 
down  Clifford  street  overtook  a  gentleman  whom  he  had  talked 
with  at  various  times,  and  saluted  him  thus: 

"Good  morning,  Mr. — ah — Mr. — 'hem — good  morning." 

"Same  to  you,  Mr. — let's  see — Mr. — good  morning!" 

"  Say,"  said  the  first,  as  he  halted,  "  do  you  want  to  know  my 
name?" 

♦'  I  do." 

"  Well,  sir,  it's  Baker— Christian  Baker." 

"And  mine,"  replied  the  other,  "  is  Cooper — George  Cooper. 
Let  us  consider  ourselves  introduced,  and  take  the  car  at  the 
next  corner." 


378  SENTIMENTAL  SCRAPS. 

UBm  iPHB  Sunshine  In. 

Alone  in  a  hut  lived  a  cross  old  man, 

He  was  little,  and  pale,  and  thin; 
And  his  house  was  shut  up,  like  a  patent  can, 

Lest  the  sunshine  should  get  in. 
It  w^as  always  musty  and  dark  in  there, 

And  darker  and  mustier  grew, 
And  he  shut  up  his  heart — this  cross  old  bear — 

From  the  human  sunshine,  too. 

If  you  want  your  house  to  be  sweet  and  bright, 

You  must  open  blind  and  door, 
vSo  that,  warm  and  cheering,  the  blessed  light 

Into  every  part  may  pour; 
And,  unless  you  want  your  heart  to  be 

All  buried  in  selfish  sin. 
Just  open  it  wide  to  humanity. 

And  let  the  sunshine  in. 

Scolding  and  Ri^biujiiing. 

We  have  the  best  of  authority  for  believing  that  soft  words 
will  appease  tHe  anger  of  another  person,  and  the  following 
anecdote,  taken  from  Indoors  and  Outdoors,  shows  that  they 
will,  even  when  spoken  by  ourselves,  turn  away  our  own 
wrath: 

While  visiting  at  a  friend's  house  once  she  asked  me  to  go  to 
her  desk  for  something,  and  I  saw  there,  on  opening  the  lid,  a 
motto  written  by  herself,  and  evidently  intended  for  no  one  else. 
It  said,  ''Do  not  scold,  do  not  fret!" 

"Yes,"  she  said,  in  answer  to  an  inquiring  look,  "I  was 
obliged  to  put  it  there. 

"I  wasn't  very  well,  little  things  troubled  me,  and  it  is  so 
natural  to  speak  of  them;  but  I  noticed  after  a  little  while  that 
when  in  the  morning  early,  before  school  or  breakfast,  I  began 
to  speak  of  the  wrong-doings  of  any  member  of  the  family,  the 
wrong-doings  and  the  tendency  to  speak  of  them  increased 
alarmingly  all  through  the  day. 

"  I  discovered  that  if  I  were  silent  the  opposite  was  true,  and 
I  began  to  earnestly  believe,  as  I  never  did  before,  that  my  own 
soft  words  turned  away  my  own  wrath." 


BEAUTIFUL  THOUGHT.  379 

0)Y  ffiOTHEI^'S  P7YMN. 

Like  patient  saint  of  olden  time, 
With  lovely  face,  almost  divine, 
So  good,  so  beautiful  and  fair, 
Her  very  attitude  a  prayer; 
I  heard  her  sing,  so  low  and  sweet, 
"His  loving-kindness — O  how  great!" 
Turning,  beheld  the  saintly  face, 
So  full  of  trust  and  patient  grace. 

"He  justly  claims  a  song  from  me, 
His  loving-kindness — O  how  free!" 
Sweetly  thus  did  run  the  song, 

"His  loving-kindness,"  all  day  long. 
Trusting,  praising,  day  by  day. 
She  sang  the  sweetest  roundelay — 

"  He  near  my  soul  hath  always  stood, 
His  loving-kindness — O  how  good!" 

•'  He  safely  leads  my  soul  along. 
His  loving-kindness — O  how  strong!" 
So  strong  to  lead  her  on  the  way 
To  that  eternal,  better  day, 
Where,  safe  at  last  in  that  blest  home, 
All  care  and  weariness  are  gone, 
She  "sings  with  rapture  and  surprise 
His  loving-kindness  in  the  skies." 

Beautipuii  Shoughif. 

It  is  a  Greek  tradition  that  when  Adam  was  dying  he  sent 
his  son  to  the  Garden  of  Eden  to  request  that  the  angel  who 
kept  the  way  thereto  would  send  him  some  of  the  fruit  of  the 
Tree  of  Life,  that  he  might  taste  and  live.  The  angel  denied 
the  request,  but  gave  to  the  son  of  Adam  three  seeds. 

"Place  them,"  said  he,  "in  thy  father's  mouth,  and  when  they 
shall  have  grown  into  trees  he  shall  be  freed  from  his  sickness." 
The  son  returned,  and  found  that  Adam  had  already  expired. 
Taking  the  three  grains,  he  placed  them  in  his  father's  mouth, 
and  buried  him  thus.  From  these  grains,  in  process  of  time, 
sprang  three  trees,  of  which  the  wood  of  the  cross  was  made. 


380  SENTIMENTAL  SCBAPS. 

f^N  Old  Song. 

A  song  full  sweet  as  lovers  need  to  know. 
Old-fashioned?     Yes.     A  hundred  years  ago 
Her  great-great-grandmother,  with  bitter  tears, 
Thought  of  the  writer,  dead  some  twenty  years; 
Sung  first  within  the  fireside  glow, 
More  than  a  century  ago, 
"Sweet  heart,  dear  heart,  I  love  you  so!" 

Many  long  years!  yet  now  those  lovely  eyes, 
That  make  so  real  my  dreams  of  paradise. 
Grow  deep  and  dark,  responsive  to  the  strain. 
Look  at  that  portal.     Is  she  here  again. 

Who  sang,  with  quavering  voice  and  slow, 
Nearly  a  century  ago, 
"Sweet  heart,  dear  heart,  I  love  you  so?" 

Long  years!     But  perfect  love  is  love  for  aye! 
The  tender  words  are  just  as  sweet  to-day. 
And  joined  in  heaven  those  gentle  souls  may  be, 
While  my  shy  darling  murmurs  low  to  me; 
We,  too,  will  sing  in  fireside  glow. 
Like  them  a  century  ago, 
"Sweet  heart,  dear  heart,  I  love  you  so!"  ' 

fl    LXOYB    POI^   (SHILDI^EN. 

Always  mark  that  man  or  woman  who  avoids  children.  The 
great  and  good  have  always  been  remarkable  for  their  fondness 
for  children.  Agesilaus,  King  of  Sparta,  was  the  most  gen- 
erous of  monarchs  and  the  most  tender  of  fathers.  Diverting 
himself  one  day  with  riding  on  a  stick  with  his  children,  and 
being  surprised  by  a  friend  in  the  action,  he  desired  him  not  to 
mention  it  till  he  was  a  father.  Henry  IV.  of  France  taught 
his  children  to  call  him  papa,  or  father,  and  not  sire  (the  new 
fashion  introduced  by  Catherine  de'  Medici).  One  day,  going 
on  all-fours,  with  the  Dauphin  on  his  back,  an  embassador 
suddenly  entered,  when  Henry,  looking  up,  said,  "  Monsieur 
I'Embassadeur,  have  you  any  children?"  "Yes,  sire,"  replied 
he.  "Very  well,  then,  I  will  finish  my  race  round  the  cham- 
ber." 


WINTER.  381 

QJONDBI^S  OP   IPHB   P^EAYBNS. 


BY  QOETUE. 


Roll,  planets,  on  your  dazzling  road, 

Forever  sweeping  round  the  sun. 
What  eye  beheld  when  first  yp  glowed? 

What  eye  shall  see  your  courses  done? 
Roll,  in  your  solemn  majesty, 

Ye  deathless  splendors  of  the  skies — 
High  altars  from  which  angels  see 

The  incense  of  creation  rise! 

Roll,  comet!  and  ye  million  stars! 

Ye  that  through  boundless  nature  roam; 
Ye  monarchs,  on  your  flame-wing  cars. 

Tell  us  in  what  more  glorious  dome — 
What  orb  to  which  your  pomps  are  dim. 

What  kingdom  but  by  angels  trod — 
Tell  us  where  swells  the  eternal  hymn 

Around  his  throne — where  dwells  your  God? 

Now  round  the  rivulet's  castle  walls 

Resound  no  more  the  summer's  praises. 

But  scarce  heard  through  its  frozen  walls 
Runs  melody  in  secret  places; 

For,  though  the  wood  runs  deep  with  snow, 
Which  veils  from  us  the  mosses'  slumbers, 

The  stream,  with  soft,  unceasing  flow. 
Goes  gliding  down  in  golden  numbers. 

What  language  speaks  the  bounteous  stream. 
With  murmurs  under  its  green  apsis, 

Unconscious  voicings  of  it§  dream. 
And  music  of  its  gentle  lapses? 

Is  this  but  gravity  which  sings? 

Or  blithe  joy  in  a  sense  of  being? 
Or  knowledge  of  more  wondrous  things, 

And  miracles  beyond  our  seeing? 


382  SENTIMENTAL  SCRAPS. 

©HE   ©I^IZE   I^OBM 


BY  EUGENE  FIELD. 


"  Bring,"  cried  the  editor  man,  "  O  bring — 

Ere  the  robins  nest  in  the  linden  trees, 

And  the  smell  of  pansies  lades  the  breeze — 
A  poem  made  to  the  theme  of  Spring; 

No  hackneyed,  palsied,  senile  rhyme 

Poets  have  sung  since  the  birth  of  time, 
But  a  new,  appropriate,  beautiful  thing!" 

The  poets  gathered  from  far  around — 

The  poets  of  high  and  of  low  degree — 

And,  tuning  their  lyres  to  the  concert  C, 
They  filled  the  air  with  vernal  sound; 

They  sang  of  the  sun,  and  the  April  showers, 

Of  the  brooks,  and  the  birds,  and  the  budding  flowers — 
But  the  editor  bit  his  thumb  and  frowned. 

At  last  to  the  editor's  presence  came 

A  slender  youth  with  a  bilious  eye. 

And  never  he  deigned  to  make  reply 
To  the  editor's  'quest  to  know  his  name; 

But  when  he  unfolded  his  poem  there 

The  shouts  that  ravished  the  cold,  pale  air 
Bespoke  the  poet's  eternal  fame. 

'Twas  not  a  lyric  of  purling  rill,  - 

Nor  a  ballad  of  bird,  nor  a  rhyme  of  flower, 
'Twas  not  a  poem  of  blossoming  bower, 

Nor  a  song  of  sheep  on  the  distant  hill; 
Ah,  no;  this  beautiful  Owed  to  Spring 
Was  a  much  more  plain  and  practical  thing — 

'Twas  a  spherical,  four-grain  quinine  pill. 

There  are  as  many  kinds  of  love  as  there  are  races.  A  great 
tall  German,  learned,  virtuous,  phlegmatic,  said  one  day:  "  Souls 
are  sisters,  fallen  from  heaven,  who  all  at  once  recognize  and 
run  to  meet  each  other."  A  little  dry  Frenchman,  hot-blooded, 
witty,  lively,  replied  to  him:  "You  are  right:  you  can  always 
find  shoes  to  fit." — Taine. 


THE  WINE  OF  LIFE.  883 

I^AIPYDID 


BY  OLIVER  WENDELL  HOLMES. 


I  love  to  hear  thine  earnest  voice, 

Wherever  thou  art  hid, 
Thou  testy  little  dogmatist, 

Thou  pretty  Katydid! 
Thou  mindest  me  of  gentle  folks — 

Old  gentle  folks  are  they — 
Thou  say'st  an  undisputed  thing 

In  such  a  solemn  way. 

Thou  art  a  female  Katydid! 

I  know  it  by  the  trill 
That  quivers  through  thy  piercing  notes, 

So  petulant  and  shrill. 
I  think  there  is  a  knot  of  you 

Beneath  the  hollow  tree — 
A  knot  of  spinster  Katydids — 

Do  Katydids  drink  tea? 

0  tell  me  where  did  Katy  live, 
And  what  did  Katy  do? 

And  was  she  very  fair  and  young, 

And  yet  so  wicked  too? 
Did  Katy  love  a  naughty  man. 

Or  kiss  more  cheeks  than  one? 

1  warrant  Katy  did  no  more 
Than  many  a  Kate  has  done. 

©HE  OJiNB    OP    LlIPB. 

The  sky  is  a  drinking-cup 
That  was  overturned  of  old. 

And  it  pours  in  the  eyes  of  men 
Its  wine  of  airy  gold.  ' 

We  drink  that  wine  all  day. 

Till  the  last  drop  is  drained  up,  * 

And  are  lighted  off  to  bed 
By  the  jewels  in  the  cup. 


384  SENTIMENTAL  SCRAPS.     • 

I^BGONSJPI^liGTION. 

In  a  wagon  made  of  willow 

Wheeled  I  once  a  little  maiden, 
Ringlets  shining  on  the  pillow, 

Rolling  homeward  treasure-laden, 
Like  a  boat  upon  the  billow. 

Ten  years  fled.     Ah,  how  I  missed  her 
When  we  left  the  village  school! 

But  she  said  she'd  be  my  sister 
As  we  lingered  by  the  pool, 

And  I  passionately  kissed  her. 

Ten  more  fleeting  years  renew  it. 

Little  wagon  made  of  willow; 
Loving  eyes  are  bent  to  view  it; 

Loving  hands  adjust  the  pillow, 
And  we've  fitted  rockers  to  it. 

Good-bye. 

We  say  it  for  an  hour,  or  for  years; 

We  say  it  smiling,  say  it  choked  with  tears; 

We  say  it  coldly,  say  it  with  a  kiss; 

And  yfet  we  have  no  other  word  than  this — 

Good-bye. 

We  have  no  dearer  word  for  our  heart's  friend, 
For  him  who  journeys  to  the  world's  far  end, 
And  scars  our  souls  w'ith  going;  thus  we  say. 
As  unto  him  who  steps  but  o'er  the  way, 

Good-bye. 

Alike  to  those  we  love  and  those  we  hate 
We  say  no  more  in  parting.     At  life's  gate, 
To  him  who  passes  out  beyond  Earth's  sight 
We  cry,  as  to  the  wanderer  for  a  night. 

Good-bye. 

• 

One  should  be  thoroughly  acquainted  with  the  books  and  the 

names  of  the  authors  of  his  own  land.     Patriotism  should  lead 
a  man  to  know  the  glory  in  the  midst  of  which  he  lives. 


> 


m 


AFi  J^O 


SUMMBR'r.  A 

This  is  a  mountain  scene.  \\r 
nessed  such  a  living  pic 
tif:il  Susquehanna  Vatlcy,  .ti!" 
located  in  a  thousand  different 
Pennsylvania.     There  are  also  many 
Carolina  and  of  West  Virgi'i'-  ■>•  •^- 
niav  have  been  found. 


un  dash'es  in  its  i 
:\e  traveled  aloii 
iins  will   recall   :- 
1  i'.cn   look  at  the  great  load  of  hay,  or  ha^ 
right,  at  the  farther  side  of  the  meadow. 

It  is  evidently  the  noontide  hour,  and  the  . 
been  brought  to  the  field  by  the  farmer*  wife,  w 
one,  too  small  to  leave  behind,  has  tr-   '  —  '  -' 
py."     A  little  game  of  "Bo-otp"  ' 
to  please  the  dog  :i' 
the  bar'--"-'-'->'"vi   ,,,. 
part  ol" 


Nothing 
so  happyj:: 

criteria  of  Li  m  :-.'     ». 

qualifications,  :<  t  rank, 

of  policy  are  these  for  they 

create  love  and  cm  '    ''  " 

whom  repeated  ci  \ 
strained  indulgence  oi"   pride  auC\   p 
iriL:i  (losn;?r:(l  .ind  linfon  X^y  f)tht  •-■.    ?.• 

J'\--:_)   •■.■•_r  !!>i:s      .  0  •'iaiiy  ni  •ranc:.-'^   o;    v-.^ 
\\  AW  a  n^cic-  habir  'jf  complainin;^. 
25 


A  FJtINCESS'  DIAMONDS.  387 

And  if  you  tell  him  of  the  words  he  said  a  year  ago, 
He  answers  you  without  a  blush:  "O  that's  the  usual  way; 
No  one  believes  a  single  word  old  bachelors  may  say; 
When  the  right  angel  comes  along  they  marry  any  day." 

^EF^SONALITY  AND  STYLE. 

Style  is  the  intimate  and  inseparable  fact  of  the  personality 
of  the  writer;  it  is  the  verbal  body  of  the  man's  moral  and 
mental  life;  it  holds  his  emotions  and  experiences,  and  is 
charged  with  his  sensations;  it  is,  in  simplest  words,  his  mani- 
festation, refined  and  polished  by  his  artistic  faculty.  Only 
men  of  peculiar  or  strong  personality  attain  a  style  which  dis- 
tinguishes them,  and  imposes  itself  as  a  model  upon  the  grop- 
ing and  undecided  or  formless  writers  whose  work  seems  not 
to  make  immortal  models,  but  to  imitate  them. 

fl  Similitude. 

Mouffett,  the  naturalist,  says  that  ants  preserve  their  store  of 
winter  grain  from  growing,  and  so  corrupting,  by  biting  off 
the  ends  wherein  the  generating  power  of  the  grain  doth  lie. 
Thus,  adds  the  quaint  Fuller,  "  When  we  have  committed  any 
sin,  we  must  pray  to  God  so  to  order  it  that  the  procreation 
thereof  may  be  destroyed,  and  that,  by  a  true  and  unfeigned 
sorrow,  we  may  condemn  it  to  a  blessed  barrenness,  that  there 
be  no  more  of  the  breed." 

fl  ^i^iNGBss*  Diamonds. 

The  following  pretty  story  is  told  about  the  Princess  Eugenie, 
sister  of  the  King  of  Sweden:  She  recently  sold  her  diamonds 
to  raise  funds  in  order  to  complete  a  hospital  in  which  she  was 
interested.  When  visiting  this  hospital,  after  its  completion,  a 
suffering  inmate  wept  tears  of  gratitude  as  -she  stood  by  his 
side,  and  the  princess  exclaimed,  "Ah,  now  I  see  my  diamonds 


again!" 


Full  many  a  gem  of  purest  ray  serene. 

The  dark,  unfathomed  caves  of  ocean  bear; 

Full  many  a  flower  is  born  to  blush  unseen, 
And  waste  its  sweetness  on  the  desert  air. 


388  SENTIMENTAL  SCRAPS. 

DlSiFI^LfSiF. 


BY  ELLA  WHEELER. 


Distrust  that  man  who  tells  you  to  distrust.     ■ 

He  takes  the  measure  of  his  own  small  soul, 

And  thinks  the  world  no  larger.     He  who  prates 

Of  human  nature's  baseness  and  deceit, 

Looks  in  the  mirror  of  his  heart,  and  sees 

His  kind  therein  reflected.     Or  perchance 

His  honeyed  wine  of  life  was  turned  to  gall 

By  sorrow's  hands,  which  brimmed  his  cup  with  tears. 

And  made  all  things  seem  bitter  to  his  taste. 

Give  him  compassion!  but  be  not  afraid 

Of  nectared  love,  or  fiiendship's  strengthening  draught, 

Nor  think  a  poison  underlies  their  sweets. 

Look  through  true  eyes,  you  will  discover  truth; 

Suspect  suspicion,  and  doubt  only  doubt. 

©HE  Stump  Oj^atoi^. 

When  Jargon  meets  the  public  ear. 
If  couched  in  words  of  vast  import. 

The  fools  sit  down  to  listen  there, 
As  though  'twere  rapturous  sport! 

Not  all  who  talk  upon  the  stage, 
And  whom  a  foolish  public  praise, 

Are  worthy  of  the  minds  they  engage. 
Nor  fill  the  hopes  they  strive  to  raise. 

Let  reason  be  your  guide,  my  friend, 

And  .when  you  listen  to  the  man. 
Be  careful  how  your  sense  you  send 

To  the  rear  instead  of  to  the  van. 

Consider  well  the  sense  of  all  you  hear 
Before  you  yield  your  full  consent; 

Nor  let  your  heart's  desire  or  fear 
O'erturn  your  wisdom's  better  bent. 


afraid  to  try.  389 

She  Booi^  op  Ijipb. 


BY  H.  W.  LONGFELLOW. 


It  is  is  only  when  time,  with  reckless  hand,  has  torn  out  half 
the  leaves  from  the  book  of  human  life,  to  light  the  fires  of  pas- 
sion with  from  day  to  day,  that  man  begins  to  see  that  the  leaves 
which  remain  are  few  in  number,  and  to  remember — faintly  at 
first,  and  then  more  clearly — that  upon  the  earlier  pages  of  that 
book  were  written  stories  of  happy  innocence,  which  he  would 
fain  read  over.  Then  comes  listless  irresolution  and  the  inevi- 
table reaction  of  despair,  or  else  the  firm  resolve  to  record  upon 
the  leaves  that  still  remain  a  more  noble  history  than  the  child's 
story  with  which  the  book  began. 

f^Pf^AID  IPO  ©I^Y. 

A  ship  was  sailing  in  the  southern  waters  of  the  Atlantic, 
when  those  on  board  saw  another  vessel  making  signals  of  dis- 
tress.    They  bore  down  toward  the  distressed  ship  and  hailed  it. 

"What  is  the  matter?" 

"  We  are  dying  for  water,"  was  the  response. 

"Dip  it  up,  then,"  was  answered;  "you  are  in  the  mouth  of 
.the  Amazon  River." 

There  those  sailors  were  thirsting,  and  suffering,  and  fearing, 
and  longing  for  water,  and  supposing  that  there  was  nothing 
but  the  ocean's  brine  around  them,  when,  in  fact,  they  had 
sailed  imconsciously  into  the  broad  mouth. of  the  mightiest 
river  on  the  globe,  and  did  not  know  it.  And  though  to  them 
it  seemed  that  they  must  perish  with  thirst,  yet  there  was  a 
hundred  miles  of  fresh  water  all  around  them,  and  they  had 
nothing  to  do  but  "  dip  it  up."  Jesus  Chi-ist  says,  "  If  any  man 
thirst,  let  him  come  unto  me  and  drink."  "And  the  Spirit  and 
the  bride  say  come,  and  let  him  that  heareth  say  come,  and 
whosoever  will,  let  him  come  and  take  of  the  water  of  life 
freely."  Thirsting  soul,  the  flood  is  all  around  you;  "dip  it  up," 
and  drink,  and  thirst  no  more  forever. 

The  essence  of  true  nobility  is  neglect  of  self.  Let  the 
thought  of  self  pass  in,  and  the  beauty  of  a  great  action-  is  gone 
like  the  bloom  from  a  soiled  flower. 


390  SENTIMENTAL  SCBAPS. 

She   pNSWBI^ING  UOIGES. 


BY  DR.  JOHN  GUMMING. 


On  the  shores  of  the  Adriatic  the  wives  of  fishermen,  whose 
husbands  have  gone  far  out  upon  the  deep,  are  in  the  habit  at 
eventide  of  going  down  to  the  seashore  and  singing,  as  female 
voices  only  can,  the  first  stanza  of  a  beautiful  hymn;  after  they 
have  sung  it,  they  listen  till  they  hear  borne  by  the  wind  across 
the  desert  sea  the  second  stanza,  sung  by  their  gallant  husbands 
as  they  are. tossed  by  the  gale  upon  the  waves.  Perhaps,  if  we 
could  listen,  we  too  might  hear  on  this  desert  world  of  ours 
some  sound,  some  whisper  borne  from  afar,  to  remind  us  that 
there  is  a  heaven  and  a  home. 

I7BLPS  AND   I7INDEI^AN6ES. 

How  nimbly  does  that  little  lark  mount  up  singing  toward 
heaven  in  a  right  line!  whereas  the  hawk,  which  is  stronger  of 
body  and  swifter  of  wing,  towers  up  by  many  gradual  com- 
passes to  his  highest  pitch.  That  bulk  of  body  and  length  of 
wing  hinder  a  direct  ascent,  and  require  the  help  both  of  air 
and  scope  to  advance  his  flight;  while  the  small  bird  cuts  tlfe 
air  without  resistance,  and  needs  no  outward  furtherance  of  her 
motion.  It  is  no  otherwise  with  the  souls  of  men  in  flying  up 
to  their  heaven.  Some  are  hindered  by  those  powers  which 
would  seem  helps  to  their  soaring  up  thither.  Great  wit,  deep 
judgment,  quick  apprehension,  send  about  men  with  no  small 
labor  for  the  recovery  of  their  own  incumbrance;  while  the 
good  affections  of  plain  and  simple  souls  raise  them  up  imme- 
diately to  the  fruition  of  God.  Why  should  we  be  proud  of 
that  which  may  slacken  our  way  to  glory?  Why  should  we  be 
disheartened  with  the  small  measure  of  that,  the  very  want 
whereof  may  facilitate  our  way  to  happiness? 

liOOI^  AT  THE  BF^IGHT  SIDE. 
It  is  a  bad  thing  for  a  man,  in  looking  at  himself,  at  his 
neighbor,  and  at  communities,  to  look  at  the  side  of  fault,  and 
failing,  and  meanness,  and  imperfection,  and  wickedness,  and 
rottenness.  These  things  will  force  themselves  upon  his  notice 
full  enough — more  than  enough  for  his  good. 


UMOROUS^SCRAPS, 

©HE  Fashion  op  I^umoi^. 


BY  W.  W.  BREESE. 

UMOR,  or  the  sense  of  humor,  has  existed 
as  long  as  the  human  race  has  existed,  with- 
out a  doubt.  When  God  demanded  of  Cain 
where  his  brother  was,  and  Cain  replied 
by  the  inquiry,  "Am  I  my  brother's  keeper?"  he  ex- 
hibited the  same  reckless  lack  of  consideration  of  his 
responsibility  that  many  humorous  writers  of  more 
modern  times  have  done.  Cain's  answer  was  not 
unmixed,  either,  with  a  kind  of  grim  humor  of  a 
similar  sort  with  that  found  in  the  case  of  those  per- 
sons who  are  constantly  delighting  in  "practical 
jokes,"  regardless  of  consequences. 

But  even  back  of  this,  when  Adam  laid  the  blame 
of  eating  the  forbidden  fruit  upon  "  the  woman  whom 
thou  gavest  to  be  with  me,"  we  may  trace  the  germs 
of  the  same  spirit,  which  easily  degenerates  into 
cowardice  and  meanness,  unless  led  up  to  something 
better. 

It  is  not  at  all  improbable  that  the  Antediluvians 
indulged  themselves  in  smutty  jokes,  and  many  other 
forms  of  what  has  since  been  known  under  the  name 

(391) 


392  HUMOROUS  SCRAPS. 

of  humor;  but  whether  any  one  ever  became  such  an 
adept  in  the  art  as  Shakespeare,  or  others  of  even  a 
more  modern  date,  is  very  questionable. 

We  may  read  what  were  the  consequences  of 
Noah's  son  Ham  carrying  down  with  him  a  love  for 
such  things,  after  the  flood  had  swept  away  the  others 
whose  humorous  jokes  had  left  their  taint  upon  his 
soul.  He  attempted  to  play  a  practical  joke  upon 
his  old  father,  but  his  older  brothers  had  probably 
sickened  of  that  sort  of  fun,  and  they  severely  "  sat 
down  on  him,"  to  use  a  modern  expression. 

Sarah,  Abraham's  wife,  indulged  her  love  of  humor 
when  she  hid  behind  the  door  and  listened  to  the  an- 
gel as  he  talked  wnth  her  husband.  But  she  laughed 
a  little  too  loud,  for  she  was  overheard  and  reproved 
for  her  want  of  seriousness  and  faith.  Then,  what  a 
humorous  old  fellow  was  Elijah,  the  man  who  came 
unannounced,  abused  the  king  and  queen  without 
mercy,  and  mocked  the  prophets  of  Baal  while  they 
were  crying  to  their  god  and  cutting  their  bodies  with 
knives  to  draw  his  attention!  But  he  certainly  pre- 
sents a  much  more  humorous  picture  shortly  after- 
wards, when  he  lies  down  under  a  juniper-tree  and 
begs  Jehovah  to  let  him  die,  because  of  the  threats  of 
one  old  woman. 

The  Bible  is  full  of  pictures  and  anecdotes  giving 
rise  to  our  mirth,  or  mirthful  feelings;  and  while  few 
such  scenes  are  enacted  in  this  day  and  age,  yet  the 
human  nature  that  prompted  them  is  the  same  to-day 
as  then,  but  only  has  changed  its  mode  of  expression 
owing  to  the  change  of  surroundings  and  circum- 
stances. 

The  most  marked  change,  however,  in  the  fashion 


THE  FASHION  OF  HUMOR  393 

of  humor  has  taken  place  within  the  past  one  hundred 
years.  Indelicate  allusions,  inuendoes  of  an  indecent 
character,  anecdotes  of  questionable  morality,  and 
other  things  now  counted  as  immodest  and  impure  in 
the  extreme,  were  not  only  allowable,  but  common. 
Ordinary  conversation  was  loaded  with  wickedness; 
or,  in  the  case  of  ignorant  and  common  people,  it  was 
counted  as  no  sin  and  too  common  to  think  about. 
But  in  America,  especially,  the  standard  of  morality 
has  been  raised  so  high  that  in  some  cases  it  almost 
leads  to  prudishness  and  nonsense- in  the  affectation 
of  modesty  on  the  part  of  many.  But  still  we  are  a 
long  way  in  advance  of  the  English  people  in  this  re- 
spect, taking  the  New  Testament  as  our  standard. 
From  sensuality  our  people  in  America  have  changed 
their  humor  very  largely  to  the  consideration  of  the 
weak  points  of  human  nature,  as  shown  in  the  vices 
of  avarice,  covetousness,  meanness,  dishonesty,  and 
lying.  The  vagaries  of  vanity,  self-conceit,  foppish- 
ness, and  would-be  aristocrats  come  in  for  their  share 
also.  This  is  a  sample  of  the  way  our  modern  humor 
expresses  itself: 

A  coal-dealer  asked  some  law  students  what  legal 
authority  was  the  favo'rite  of  his  trade.  One  an- 
swered, "  Coke."  "  Right,"  said  the  coal-dealer.  An- 
other suggested,  " Blackstone."  "Good,  too!"  said 
the  questioner.  Then  a  little  man  piped  out,  "Little- 
ton."    Whereupon  the  coal-dealer  sat  down. 

But  it  is  not  all  of  such  a  quiet  character  as  this. 
The  following  represents  a  different  class  of  humor: 
"Nebraska  theater  audiences  are  unconventional  in 
their  conduct.  At  Lincoln,  while  John  T.  Raymond 
was  presenting  the  trial  scene  in  '  Col.  Sellers,'  two 


394  HUMOROUS  SCRAPS. 

dogs  began  to  fight  in  the  center  aisle.  All  attention 
was  instantly  diverted  from  the  stage  to  the  light.  '  I 
move  we  suspend  proceedings  in  this  court,'  said  Ray- 
mond, '  and  I'll  bet  a  dollar  on  the  white  dog.'  '  I'll 
take  you!'  cried  a  man  in  the  audience.  The  white 
dog  won,  the  dollar  was  passed  across  the  foot-lights 
to  the  star,  and  the  acting  of  the  play  was  resumed." 

Still  another  sample  is  the  following:  "  Prof.  Hill, 
who  filled  the  Greek  chair  at  St.  Andrew's,  was  re- 
markable for  his  social  qualities  and  ready  humor. 
Dining  one  day  with  the  local  Presbytery,  a  joint  was 
found  to  be  imperfectly  cooked.  '  Come,'  said  the  pro- 
fessor, ^  do  not  let  us  grumble.  We  can  easily  hand 
it  to  the  Cook,  who  will  pass  it  to  the  Kettle,  and  all 
will  be  made  right.'  Dr.  Cook  and  Mr.  Kettle  were 
two  clergymen  present,  and  the  laugh  which  followed 
restored  the  clerical  equanimity." 

Quite  a  large  number  of  humorists  have  come  to 
the  front  in  late  years.  Probably  the  most  of  our  older 
readers  will  recall  the  "Widow  Bedott"  and  "Doe- 
sticks,"  as  well  as  "  Major  Jones's  Courtship,"  which 
are  passing  away  from  the  knowledge  of  the  younger 
generation.  "  Sut  Lovinggood  "  is  another  who  has 
delighted  the  old  and  the  young  for  several  genera- 
tions. Of  writers,  Artemus  Ward  came  to  the  front 
at  an  early  day;  but  before  his  time  were  others  of  a 
different  character,  although  nearly  as  famous.  Petro- 
leum V.  Nasby  has  had  a  great  many  readers  in  the 
Northern  States,  but  never  circulated  extensively  at 
the  South.  Josh  Billings  is  said  to  be  a  great  philos- 
opher, but  unfortunately  he  neglected  to  learn  to  spell 
the  English  language  correctly  in  his  youth.  Bill  Arp 
commands  great  attention  in  Georgia  and  many  other 


THE  FASHION  OF  HUMOR.  396 

States,  while  Burdettc  is  quoted  almost  as  freely  as 
the  Detroit  Free  Press. 

But  the  vicious  and  spiteful  side  of  the  humorist 
finds  its  "  vent "  in  attacking  the  humble  but  extremely 
useful "  book-agent "  upon  every  possible  occasion  and 
pretext.  We  most  vigorously  protest  against  that 
wicked  and  libelous  use  of  a  most  valuable  gift  of 
Nature,  which  has  been  prostituted  to  such  base  pur- 
poses. We  shall  close  this  article  by  introducing  an 
extract,  which  in  its  broad  humor  becomes  a  sufficient 
"  take-off"  on  the  class  of  whom  we  speak,  as  well  as 
to  show  up  the  absurdity  of  many  of  their  jokes  on  a 
respectable  and  valuable  member  of  society: 

"Let  us  cast  aside  for  a  time  our  weapons,  and  view 
the  book-agent  in  a  scientific  light;  let  us  select  the 
tares  from  the  wheat,  the  vices  from  the  virtues;  let 
us  spread  his  character  before  us,  and  point  out  his 
vast  moral  deviations;  let  us  purchase  a  book  from 
him,  and  refuse  to  pay;  let  us  tie  up  the  mastiff,  and 
set  the  bull-dog  on  him;  let  us  hide  the  cruel  shot-gun, 
and  shoot  him  with  a  pistol;  let  us  show  him  that 
Christian  impulses  are  not  foreign  to  our  hearts,  and 
let  us  pay  him  in  counterfeit  money.  The  book-agent 
is  a  stranger  in  the  land,  he  is  far  from  home;  his  soul 
is  full  of  bitterness,  and  he  longs  for  a  kind  word;  let 
us  give  it  to  him;  let  us  give  him  two  kind  words,  and 
clothe  him  in  tar  and  feathers,  for  the  book-agent  is 
cold;  let  us  help  him  on  to  success — he  deserves  it;  he 
has  traveled  many  weary  paths,  he  has  surmounted 
many  difficulties;  his  socks  have  never  been  washed, 
and  he  needs  advice.     Let  us  give  it  to  him: 

" '  When  you  approach  a  farmer,  shake  hands  with 
him  cordially — the  more  cordially  the  better;  if  you 


396  HUMOROUS  SCRAPS. 

can't  shake  his  hand,  shake  his  head,  his  ear,  or  shake 
his  whole  body — but  be  sure  to  shake  him.  Then  say 
that  the  corn-crop  is  fearful;  if  he  calls  you  a  liar,  say 
that  the  corn  may  be  all  right,  but  you  never  did  see 
such  darned  clover  as  you  have  seen  the  present  year. 
This  will  please  the  farmer;  he  will  know  that  your 
soul  yearns  for  agriculture,  and  he  will  hit  you  with 
the  shovel.  Then  you  must  tell  him  that  the  child  of 
a  Swedish  peasant  has  recently  been  bitten  by  a  rat- 
tlesnake; if  this  doesn't  interest  him,  tell  him  that  the 
sewers  of  Paris  abound  with  valuables — this  will  in- 
terest him.  The  main  thing  is  to  get  him  interested. 
When  he  is  bubbling  over  with  historical  or  legendary 
excitement,  you  can  produce  the  book  you  are  can- 
vassing for,  and  tell  him  that  the  story  about  WilHam 
Tell  is  a  myth;  then  take  the  opportunity  of  inform- 
ing him  that  the  book  you  have  in  your  hand  will 
show  how  to  make  soft-soap  from  old  scrap-iron,  how 
to  conduct  a  Sabbath-school,  how  to  remove  warts, 
how  to  make  traps  for  catching  potato-bugs,  how  to 
edit  a  newspaper,  how  to  detect  adulteration  in  chew- 
ing-tobacco, how  to  plant  potatoes  so  that  the  frost 
won't  hurt  them,  and  you  can  tell  him  that  it  is  a  book 
which  no  well-regulated  family  can  do  without. 

" '  When  the  farmer  has  worn  out  three  flails  and  a 
hoe-handle  upon  you,  you  can  leave  a  circular  with 
him,  and  tell  him  that  the  Chinamen  still  have  a  true 
friend  in  Joaquin  Miller;  then  throw  yourself  flat  on 
the  ground  so  that  the  scythe  will  pass  over  you.  Do 
not  lose  your  temper,  wear  a  perpetual  smile,  leave 
kind  words  and  circulars  wherever  you  go,  and  do 
not  take  a  man's  gate  from  its  hinges  because  he  will 
not  subscribe  for  "Soaked  in  Strychnine;  or,  the  Pea- 


KING  FREDERICK  AND  THE  IRISH  GIANT.    397 

nut  Man's  Revenge."  Shun  evil  companions,  bull- 
dogs disdain;  and  when  you  have  ascended  the  golden 
staircase  your  memory  may  live  through  the  ages, 
though  your  body  has  long  ago  been  consumed  by  an 
oleomargarine  factory.' " 

I^ING  Fl^BDBI^IGI^  AND  IPHB    Il^ISH  GlANiP. 

A  queer  and  testy  man  was  Frederick  William  I.,  the  second 
king  of  Prussia,  and  the  father  of  the  renowned  monarch,  Fred- 
erick the  Great.     He  ascended  the  throne  in  17 13. 

He  assembled  and  drilled  a  great  army  in  time  of  peace.  He 
was  very  proud  of  their  numbers  and  discipline,  and  among  his 
queer  ambitions  was  one  that  was  very  odd  indeed.  He  de- 
sired to  have  a  certain  corps  of  soldiers  that  should  consist 
wholly  of  giants. 

So  he  sent  his  agents  all  over  Europe,  giant-hunting.  A  dif- 
ficult task  the  agents  had,  for  giants  were  not  so  numerous  in 
Europe  as  they  are  supposed  to  have  been  in  very  tmcient  times 
before  history  was  written.  But  one  of  them  met  with  good 
fortune,  as  you  shall  presently  be  told. 

One  day,  as  one  of  the  Prussian  recruiting-sergeants  was  vis- 
iting London  in  search  of  tall  men  for  Frederick's  service,  his 
attention  was  called  to  a  crowd  in  the  streets. 

He  entered  the  crowd  curiously,  and  to  his  amazement  and 
delight  he  there  found  on  exhibition  the  tallest  man  he  had  ever 
seen.  The  man  was  an.Irish  giant.  His  head  vv^as  covered  with 
thick,  yellow  hair;  his  shoulders  were  broad.  He  rose  above 
the  crowd  like  a  tower  among  houses. 

He  had  come  to  England  to  seek  work.  He  was  now  out  of 
money,  but  he  was  still  good-natured  and  merry.  Fat  people 
usually  are  cheerful,  whatever  may  be  their  condition. 

The  recruiting-sergeant  elbowed  his  way  through  the  crowd, 
greatly  excited  thus  to  find  the  very  man  he  had  .beeo  so  dili- 
gently looking  for.     He  laid  his  hand  on  the  Irishman's  sleeve. 

"Come  with  me,  come  with  me!  I'm  a  soldier  myself,  and  I 
am  always  ready  to  help  a  comrade  in  distress." 

"But  oi'm  not  a  soldier." 

"Aren't  you?     Why,  you  look  every  inch  like  a  soldier;  any 


398        *  HUMOROUS  SCRAPS. 

man  would  take  you  for  one.  You  ought  to  be  a  soldier,  sure. 
But  never  mind  that;  come  and  dine  with  me." 

"That  I  will,"  said  Pat;  "and  ye  need  not  be  after  axing  me 
twice." 

The  Irishman's  appetite  was  as  great  as  his  body,  and  when 
he  was  well  filled  with  a  liberal  meal  he  was  always  credulous 
and  jolly,  and  easy  to  be  persuaded. 

"You  are  a  fine  fellow,"  said  the  sergeant;  " a  wonderfully 
fine  fellow.     Did  you  never  think  of  turning  soldier?" 

"An'  what  should  I  turn  soldier  for?" 

"  For  honor  and  glory." 

"A  cannon-ball  wouldn't  be  apt  to  miss  me,  sure;  and  what 
good  would  honor  and  glory  do  me  when  my  head  was  gone, 
clane  gone  intirely?" 

"For  money?" 

"How  much?" 

"I  will  offer  you  a  safe  position  in  the  Prussian  Life-guards. 
The  king,  I  am  sure,  would  pay  four  hundred  pounds  down  for 
a  strapping  fellow  like  you." 

"Four  hundred  pounds!  Four  hundred  pounds!  Do  I  hear 
my  own  ears?  Faix,  I  will  not  be  long  in  choosing.  Pat 
O'Flannigan  is  the  boy  for  yez." 

"Good.     Can  you  speak  German?" 

"German,  is  it?  Dutch-like?  Sorra  a  word  of  German  can 
I  spake,  if  it  were  to  save  my  life  from  the  hangman." 

"Well,  no  matter.  Three  sentences  are  all  you  need  to  know. 
I  can  teach  you  them." 

"What  be  they?" 

"When  the  king  first  sees  you  in  the  ranks  he  will  come  to 
you  and  say,  'How  old  are  you?' 

"An' what  shall  I  say?" 

"Twenty-seven  years." 

"  Then  he  will  ask  you  how  long  you  have  been  in  the  service." 

"An'  what  shall  I  say  thin?" 

"Three  weeks." 

"Then  he  will  say,  'Are  you  provided  with  clothes  and  ra- 
tions?' and  you  will  answer,  'Both.'" 

"  I  think  my  head  will  hold  that  much." 

"How  old  are  you?" 

"Twenty-seven  years." 


KING  FREDERICK  AND  THE  IRISH  GIANT.    399 

"How  long  have  you  been  in  the  service?" 

"Three  weeks." 

"Are  you  provided  with  clothes  and  rations?" 

"  Both." 

"  On  the  journey  to  Berlin  the  sergeant  asked  the  happy  re- 
cruit these  questions  daily.  He  answered  promptly  and  cor- 
rectly. 

About  three  weeks  after  his  arrival  he  appeared  on  parade  in 
the  corps  of  giants  for  the  first  time.  There  were  Arabs,  and 
Danes,  and  Moors,  and  Swedes,  in  the  brigade;  giants  from 
almost  all  the  countries  of  Europe;  but  Pat  stood  like  a  Saul 
among  them  all. 

The  king  saw  him,  and  his  face  shone.  He  beckoned  to  him 
to  step  forward. 

Pat  stepped  forward  proudly,  and  presented  arms. 

"  I  haven't  seen  you  before,"  said  the  king.  "  How  long  have 
you  been  in  the  service?" 

"Twenty-seven  years." 

The  king  stared.  "Twenty-seven  years!  I  should  have 
known  it  had  you  been  in  the  service  a  week.  How  old  are 
you?" 

"Three  weeks." 

"Three  weeks,  and  been  in  the  service  twenty-seven  years!" 
The  king  turned  purple  with  rage.  "  Do  you  think  I  am  a  fool, 
or  are  you  one  yourself? "  he  shouted. 

"Both." 

"  Seize  that  fellow,"  said  the  king,  looking  as  though  he  was 
going  to  burst.     "Off  with  him  to  the  guard-house." 

Pat  remonstrated  in  Irish,  which  was  not  understood.  Honor 
and  glory,  and  even  money,  all  looked  cheap  enough  to  him 
now,  and  he  wished  himself  back  on  good  old  English  soil. 

The  officer  of  the  guard  happened  to  know  Pat's  German  ac- 
quirements, and  he  at  once  rightly  guessed  the  situation  when 
the  poor  recruit  was  marched  to  the  guard-house.  He  explained 
the  whole  matter  to  the  king,  who  for  once  had  a  laugh  that 
relaxed  his  usually  clouded  face. 

The  recruit  was  at  once  set  at  liberty. 

"Faix,"  said  Pat  O'Flannigan,  "niver  pretind  to  know  what 
ye  don't  know;  else  it  is  a  whoppin'  big  blunder  ye'U  be  after 
gettin'  into." 


400  HUMOROUS  SCRAPS. 

"GiYB  THE  Devil  his  Due." 

The  common  phrase,  "Give  the  devil  his  due,"  w^as  turned 
very  wittily  by  a  member  of  the  bar  in  North  Carolina,  some 
years  ago,  on  three  of  his  legal  brethren.  During  the  trial  of  a 
case  Hillman,  Dews,  and  Swain  (all  distinguished  lawyers,  and 
the  last  named  president  of  the  State  University)  handed  James 
Dodge,  the  Clerk  of  the  Supreme  Court,  the  following  epitaph: 

Here  lies  James  Dodge,  who  dodged  all  good, 

And  never  dodged  an  evil; 
And,  after  dodging  all  he  could. 

He  could  not  dodge  the  devil! 

Mr.  Dodge  sent  back  to  the  gentlemen  the  annexed  im- 
promptu reply,  which  may  be  considered  equal  to  any  thing 
ever  expressed  in  the  best  days  of  Queen  Anne  or  Bess: 

Here  lies  a  Hillman  and  a  Swain; 

Their  lot  let  no  man  choose; 
They  lived  in  sin,  and  died  in  pain, 

And  the  devil  got  his  dues  (Dews). 

BAI^TY   ^ILiLAF^D. 

Barty  Willard,  who  formerly  lived  in  the  northern  part  of 
Vermont,  was  noted  for  his  careless,  vagabond  habits,  ready 
wit,  and  remarkable  facility  at  extempore  rhyming.  Sitting 
one  day  in  a  village  store,  among  a  crowd  of  idlers  who  always 
gathered  about  him  on  his  arrival,  the  merchant  asked  Barty 
"why  he  always  wore  that  shocking  bad  hat."  Barty  replied 
that  it  was  simply  because  he  was  unable  to  purchase  a  new  one. 

"  Come,"  said  the  merchant,  "  make  me  a  good  rhyme  on  the 
old  hat  immediately,  without  stopping  to  think,  and  I'll  get  you 
the  best  castor  in  the  store."  Whereupon  Barty  threw  his  old 
tile  on  the  floor,  and  began: 

Here  lies  my  old  hat, 

And  pray  what  of  that? 
'Tis  as  good  as  the  rest  of  my  raiment. 

If  I  buy  me  a  better. 

You'll  make  me  your  debtor, 
And  send  me  to  jail  for  the  payment. 


GASCONADE  AND  HOAXING.  401 

The  new  hat  was  adjudged,  by  the  '*  unanimous  vote  of  the 
house,"  to  belong  to  Barty,  who  wore  it  off  in  triumph,  saying, 
•'  It  was  a  poor  head  that  couldn't  take  care  of  itself." 

fl    1^0 YAL  gUANDAI^Y. 

On  the  first  consignment  of  Seidlitz  powders  to  the  capital 
of  Delhi,  the  monarch  was  deeply  interested  in  the  accounts  of 
the  refreshing  beverage.  A  box  was  brought  to  the  king  in 
full  court,  and  the  interpreter  explained  to  his  majesty  how  it 
was  to  be  used.  Into  a  goblet  he  put  the  contents  of  the  twelve 
blue  papers,  and  having  added  water,  the  king  drank  it  off. 
This  was  the  alkali,  and  the  royal  countenance  exhibited  no 
sign  of  satisfaction.  It  was  then  explained  that  in  the  combi- 
nation of  the  two  powders  lay  the  luxury,  and  the  twelve  white 
powders  were  quickly  dissolved  in  water  and  as  eagerly  swal- 
lowed by  his  majesty.  With  a  shriek  that  will  never  be  forgot- 
ten the  monarch  rose,  staggered,  exploded,  and  in  his  agony 
exclaimed,  '■'■Hold  me  down!"  Then,  rushing  from  the  throne, 
he  fell  prostrate  on  the  floor.  There  he  lay  during  the  long- 
continued  effervescence  of  the  compound,  spurting  like  ten 
thousand  pennyworths  of  imperial  pop,  and  believing  himself 
in  the  agonies  of  death — a  melancholy  and  convincing  proof 
that  kings  are  mortal. 

Gasconade  and  I^oaxing. 

/  A  Gascon,  in  proof  of  his  nobility,  asserted  that  in  his  fa- 
ther's castle  they  used  no  other  fire- wood  than  the  batons  of 
the  different  marshals  of  France  of  his  family. 

A  Gascon  officer,  on  hearing  of  the  boasted  exploits  of  a  cer-« 
tain  prince,  who,  among  other  things,  had  killed  six  men  with 
his  own  hands  in  the  course  of  an  assault  upon  a  city,  said  dis- 
dainfully, "Pooh,  that's  nothing!  The  mattress  I  sleep  on  is 
stuffed  with  nothing  but  the  whiskers  of  those  I  have  sent  to 
the  other  world." 

Vernon's  skill  in  the  invention  of  marvelous  stories  has  never 
been  surpassed,  even  by  the  peddlers  of  wooden  nutmegs. 
Talking  one  day  about  the  intense  heat  of  the  sun  in  India,  he 
remarked  that  it  was  a  common  thing  there  for  people  to  be 
charred  to  powder  by  a  coup  de  soliel,  and  that  upon  one  occa- 
26 


402  HUMOnpUS  SCRAPS. 

sion,  while  dining  with  a  Hindoo,  one  of  his  host's  wives  was 
suddenly  reduced  to  ashes,  whereupon  the  Hindoo  rang  the 
bell,  and  said  to  the  attendant  who  answered  it,  "  Bring  fresh 
glasses,  and  sweep  up  your  mistress."  Another  of  his  stories 
was  this:  He  happened  to  be  shooting  hyenas  near  Carthage, 
when  he  stumbled  and  fell  down  an  abyss  of  many  fathoms' 
depth.  He  was  surprised,  however,  to  find  himself  unhurt,  for 
he  lighted  as  if  on  a  feather-bed.  Presently  he  perceived  that 
he  was  gently  moved  upward,  and,  having  by  degrees  reached 
the  mouth  of  the  abyss,  he  again  stood  safe  on  terra  firma.  He 
had  fallen  upon  an  immense  mass  of  bats,  which,  disturbed  from 
their  slumber,  had  risen  out  of  the  abyss  and  brought  him  up 
with  them. 

fiN   GGGBNTI^IG  flNSWBI^. 

Charles  Mathews,  the  comedian,  was  served  by  a  green- 
grocer named  Berry',  and  generally  settled  his  bill  once  a  quar- 
ter. At  one  time  the  account  was  sent  in  before  it  was  due, 
and  Mathews,  laboring  under  an  idea  that  his  credit  was 
doubted,  said:  "  Here's  a  pretty  mull,  Berry.  You  have  sent  in 
your  hill,  Berry,  before  it  is  due,  Berry.  Your  father,  the  elder 
Berry,  would  not  have  been  such  a  goose.  Berry;  but  you  need 
not  look  so  black,  Berry,  for  I  don't  care  a  Straw,  Berry,  and 
shan't  pay  you  till  Christmas,  Berry." 

Got    Y)IS  flNSWBI^. 

The  absence  of  ordinary  curiositj'  from  the  Arab,  and  their 
ingenuous  stupidity,  often  perplex  a  scholar  traveling  among 
them  and  anxious  to  acquire  their  idioms.  Prof.  Palmer,  while 
in  the  Desert  of  Sinai,  wished  to  know  the  form  of  the  inter- 
rogative adverb  "when."  Chancing  to  be  walking  with  an 
intelligent  Arab,  the  professor  asked : 

"  Supposing  you  were  to  meet  a  man  with  an  ibex  on  his 
shoulder,  how  should  you  ask  him  when  he  shot  it?" 

"  I  shouldn't  ask  him  at  all,"  he  replied,  "  because  I  shouldn't 
care." 

"But  if  you  did  care,  what  should  you  say  to  him?" 

"What  should  I  say  to  him?  Why,  I  should  say,  'Good 
morning.' " 


COURTINO-STICKS.  403 

The  persistant  professor,  not  to  be  baffled,  walked  a  few  mo- 
ments in  silence,  and  then  said: 

"  Saleh,  I  saw  your  wife.'' 

"  When? "  said  the  startled  Arab.  And  down  went  the  word 
in  the  professor's  note-book. 

Old  ^oi^b  Ubi^sipibd. 

Says  Tom  to  Bill:  "Pray  tell  me,  sir, 

Why  is  it  that  the  devil. 
In  spite  of  all  his  naughty  ways, 

Can  never  be  uncivil?" 

Says  Bill  to  Tom:  "The  answer's  plain 

To  any  mind  that's  bright; 
Because  the  imp  of  darkness,  sir, 

Can  ne'er  be  imp  o'  lights 

Widows. 

As  in  India,  one  day,  an  Englishman  sat. 
With  a  smart  native  lass  at  the  window, 
"Do  your  widows  burn  themselves?  pray  tell  me  that," 
Said  the  pretty,  inquisitive  Hindoo. 

"Do  they  burn?  ah,  yes,"  the  gentlem.an  said, 
"  With  a  flame  not  so  easy  to  smother. 
Our  widows,  the  moment  one  husband  is  dead. 
Immediately  burn  for  another!" 

"^OUI^TING-SIPIGI^S." 

In  early  New  England  days,  as  far  back  as  the  middle  of  the 
eighteenth  century,  when  hospitality  was  a  practice  as  well  as 
a  virtue,  there  was  in  most  houses  only  one  large  assembly 
room,  and  there  the  family  and  all  the  guests  and  chance  callers 
gathered  on  winter  nights  about  the  blazing  fire-logs.  We 
know  that  youth  was  youth  and  love  was  love,  and  young  men 
were  timid  and  maidens  were  shy,  and  courtship  went  on  in 
those  days. 

How  was  courtship  possible  in  this  common  room,  where 
every  word  was  heard  and  every  look  taken  notice  of?  We 
read  in  the  admirable  volume  on  the  recent  centennial  of  Long 


404  HUMOROUS  SCRAPS 

Meadow,  Mass.,  by  Prof.  Richard  S.  Storrs,  ofithat  town,  in 
the  winter  evenings,  for  the  convenience  of  young  lovers,  since 
there  was  no  "  next  room,"  courting-sticks  were  used — that  is, 
long  wooden  tubes  that  could  convey  from  lip  to  ear  sweet  and 
secret  whispers.  Was  this  an  invention  peculiar  to  Long 
Meadow? 

It  is  a  charming  picture  that  this  calls  up  of  life  in  a  Puritan 
household,  this  tubular  love-making,  the  pretty  girl  (nearly  every 
girl  was  pretty  in  the  firelight  of  long  ago)  seated  in  one  stiff, 
high-backed  chair,  and  the  staid  but  blushing  lover  in  another, 
handling  the  courting-stick,  itself  an  open  confession  of  complai- 
sance, if  not  of  true  love.  Would  the  young  man  dare  to  say,  "  I 
love  you,"  through  a  tube,  and  would  he  feel  encouraged  by  the 
laughing,  tender  eyes  of  the  girl  when  she  replied  through  the 
same  passage,  "Do  tell!"  Did  they  have  two  sticks,  so  that 
one  end  of  one  could  be  at  the  ear  and  the  end  of  the  other  at 
the  mouth  all  the  while?  How  convenient,  when  the  young 
man  got  more  ardent  than  was  seemly,  as  the  flip  went  round, 
for  the  girl  to  put  her  thumb  over  the  end  of  the  tube  and  stop 
the  flow  of  soul!  Did  the  young  man  bring  his  stick,  and  so 
announce  his  intention,  or  did  the  young  lady  always  keep  one 
or  a  pair  on  hand,  and  so  reveal  both  willingness  and  expecta- 
tion? It  was  much  more  convenient  than  the  telephone,  with 
its  "hello"  and  proclamation  to  all  listeners  at  the  end  of  the 
line.  Lovers  can  make  love  with  everj'  thing,  even  with  a  tel- 
ephone; the  successful  courting  of  a  deaf  person  (for  there  is 
one  word  that  nearly  every  one  likes  to  hear),  as  we  know,  can 
go  on  through  a  speaking-trumpet;  but  these  courting-sticks 
seem  to  us  the  ne  plus  ultra  of  tender  communication — when  a 
third  party  is  present.  They  would  be  very  useful  now  at  large 
parties,  where  there  is  such  a  din  and  babble  that  one  can  only 
court  a  pretty  girl  at  the  risk  of  bronchitis  or  laryngitis.  Some- 
times in  the  jam  you  cannot  get  near  the  girl,  but  with  a  long 
courting-stick  you  could  wile  her  away  from  her  too  ardent  ad- 
mirer. This  invention  seems  to  us  worthy  of  revival  for  many 
reasons,  and  we  should  be  glad  of  any  further  information  in 
regard  to  it.  Civilization  in  its  progress  drops  a  good  many 
things  that  ought  to  be  retained. 

Financial  philosophy — The  dividend  justifies  the  means. 


NOT  AS  MILD  AS  HE  LOOKED.  *     405 

nOT   AS  ffliLD  AS   F)E    IjOOJ^ED. 

A  mild-mannered  young  man,  wearing  a  light  summer-suit 
and  a  feeble  attempt  at  a  mustache,  stood  on  the  corner  of 
Broadway  and  Vesey  street.  He  was  waiting  for  a  Sixth  ave- 
nue horse-car.  When  one  arrived  he  deposited  himself  de- 
murely in  a  corner,  and  began  gazing  at  his  finger-nails  intently. 
It  was  nearly  6  o'clock  in  the  evening,  and  the  car  as  usual  was 
crowded..  When  the  conductor  came  along,  edging  his  way 
through  the  crowd  and  busily  collecting  the  fares,  the  mild- 
mannered  young  man  offered  him  a  ten-cent  piece.  He  was 
that  kind  of  a  young  man  who  had  just  outgrown  his  freckles, 
but  not  his  cigarettes,  and  seemed  easy  to  impose  upon.  So  the 
conductor  evidently  thought,  for  he  took  the  dime,  rang  up  a 
fare,  and  passed  rapidly  on  without  giving  back  the  other  five 
cents.  An  expression  of  astonishment  came  over  the  innocent 
countenance  of  the  mild-mannered  youth  as  his  eyes  followed 
for  a  moment  the  retreating  figure  of  the  conductor  and  the  up- 
lifted arm  moving  along  the  clock-strap,  and  occasionally  giving 
it  a  pull.  Then  with  a  little  smile  he  settled  back  in  the  seat  and 
waited.  When  the  car  swung  into  Sixth  avenue  it  had  been  well 
emptied  of  its  load.  The  mild-mannered  youth  looked  pity- 
ingly at  the  conductor,  as  if  giving  him  one  last  chance  to  re- 
pent. Then,  with  considerable  flourish,  he  took  out  a  note-book 
and  pencil,  and,  after  attracting  the  conductor's  attention,  wrote 
down  the  conductor's  number  and  the  number  of  the  car. 
Then  he  looked  out  of  the  window  to  see  what  street  was  being 
passed,  and  wrote  that  down,  and,  drawing  out  his  watch,  made 
a  note  of  the  time.  Qiiietly  closing  the  book,  he  slipped  it  back 
into  his  pocket,  and  turning  to  the  conductor,  who  had  watched 
the  proceedings  with  an  anxious  look,  said: 

"Well,  are  you  about  ready  to  give  me  back  my  change?" 

"O  yes,  yes,"  was  the  stammered  reply;  "what  did  you  give 
me — half  a  dollar.'"' 

"  O  no,"  said  the  mild  youth,  as  he  looked  the  now  violently 
blushing  employee  steadily  in  the  eye.     "I  gave  you  a  dollar!" 

Ninety-five  cents  were  reluctantly  dropped  into  the  youth's 
hand,  and  as  he  stepped  off"  at  Fourteenth  street  he  softly  mur- 
mured, "That  fellow  had  better  confine  his  'knocking-down' 
tricks  to  the  comjiany  after  this." 


406      •  HU2I0R0US  SCRAPS. 

f^N  OUNCE  OP  ©r^EYENJPION. 
Sometimes  an  ounce  of  prevention  is  worse  than  a  pound  of 
disease.  One  day  last  week  the  children  came  running  in, 
shrieking  that  a  big  hawk  was  circling  over  the  poultry-yard. 
Old  Farmer  Thistlepod  dropped  his  paper,  caught  his  trusty 
gun  from  the  rack,  and  charged  for  the  poultry-yard.  He  ran 
right  over  a  bee-stand  just  the  other  side  of  the  cypress-bush, 
and  was  stung  in  thirty  places  before  he  jumped  over  the  fence 
of  the  poultry-yard,  alighting  upon  the  old  black  hen- that  was 
brooding  thirteen  chicks,  breaking  her  neck,  and  mashing  five 
hapless  "  weetles."  The  gun  caught  in  the  fence  as  he  jumped, 
and  went  off,  killing  a  young  turkey,  and  filling  the  Durham 
heifer  in  the  meadow  nearly  full  of  buckshot;  while  the  hawk, 
alone  calm  and  self-possessed  in  the  midst  of  the  tumult  and 
confusion,  sailed  gracefully  away  with  the  one  spring  chicken 
he  had  all  along  intended  to  levy  on. 

(©HINESE  LXAW. 
A  Chinese  mandarin  pronounced  a  decision  as  novel  if  not 
as  wise  as  Solomon's  famous  judgment.  A  Chinaman  who  had 
been  drinking  in  a  tea-house  pulled  out  a  dollar  to  pay  the  bill. 
The  money  was  immediately  claimed  by  a  Hindoo  who  was 
present,  and  who  accused  the  Chinaman  of  having  stolen  it 
from  him.  When  the  matter  was  referred  to  the  magistrate  a 
second  claimant  appeared  in  the  person  of  a  Japanese.  After 
profound  deliberation,  the  mandarin  came  to  the  conclusion  that 
there  was  not  the  slightest  evidence  to  prove  that  the  dollar  be- 
longed to  either  the  Japanese  or  the  Hindoo;  he  decided,  there- 
fore, that  it  should  be  divided  equally  between  them,  and  the 
Chinaman  was  discharged. 

F)OW  f)E  WAS  I^UI^JP. 
One  day,  down  in  the  Peninsula,  after  McClellan's  battles,  a 
wounded  negro  was  really  very  badly  hurt.  He  was  a  planta- 
tion negro,  and  entirely  a  non-combatant.  After  he  got  better 
he  was  describing  to  the  doctor  one  afternoon  how  he  had  been 
hurt,  and  did  it  in  this  manner:  "Ye  see,  boss,  I  was  on  de  ole 
plantation  when  dem  Yankee  gun-boats  dey  cum  up  de  ribber. 
Ole  massa  and  missus  had  done  gone  days  before,  and  we  nig- 
gers were  lef  on  de  plantation.     When  we  see  de  Yankees  a 


RUSTICS.  407 

comin'  up  de  ribber  we  all  run  away  and  hid  in  de  woods.  By- 
um-by  de  boats  began  to  shell  dc  woods,  and  Lawd  a  massy, 
what  a  noise  dey  did  make!  Shells  as  big  as  flour-barrels  were 
frowed  into  de  woods  and  knocked  trees  down.  It  was  awful 
hot,  I  tell  you.  I  thought  the  world  was  a-comin'  to  de  end. 
De  niggers  prayed,  but  it  didn't  do  no  good,  as  de  Yankees  only 
frowed  de  more  shells,  and  de  Lord  seemed  deaf  to  de  petitions 
of  the  cullud  pussons.  Some  of  dem  shells  would  go  high  up 
in  de  air  and  say,  '  Whar  is  he.-*  whar  is  he?'  like  as  if  he  was 
a-looking  for  somebody.  Den  by-um-by  dey  would  say,  '  I  see 
him,  I  see  him,  I  see  him,'  and  wid  dat  dey  would  bust,  and  all 
de  little  pieces  go  skirmishing  around  de  woods  after  de  nig- 
gers. It  was  one  ob  dese  little  pieces  dat  kotch  me  in  de  leg, 
and  dat's  how  I  got  hurt.  It  was  a  powerful  warm  day,  massa, 
a  powerful  warm  day,  I  tell  yer." 

I^USTIGS. 

The  Pall  Mall  Gazette  gives  some  amusing  anecdotes  of  the 
simplicity  of  rural  English  life.     Here  is  a  naif  little  dialogue: 

"  Well,  my  little  man,  whose  boy  are  you?" 

"Fayther's." 
.  "Quite  right.     But  where  do  you  live?" 

"Along  wi'  fayther." 

"Yes,  yes;  but  where  does  your  father  live?'* 

"  Why,  he's  our  fayther;  he  lives  along  wi'  us." 

The  parson  retires  discomfited. 

Once  more,  Mike,  the  "natural,"  has  committed  some  misde- 
meanor which  compels  the  magistrates  to  imprison  him  for  a 
fortnight. 

Mike  looks  up  at  them  sadly,  and  exclaims,  in  a  tone  of  piti- 
ful resignation:  "Well,  gentlemen,  I'll  goo — I'll  goo;  but  I'm 
sure  I  sha'n't  like  it." 

Here  is  one  more  of  the  same  class.  A  countiy  lad,  sent  to 
the  squire's  with  a  message,  sits  down  to  regale  himself  on  a 
round  of  beef,  which  the  cook  imprudently  puts  before  him. 
After  he  has  proceeded  to  help  himself  many  times  over  with 
great  deliberateness,  the  cook  says  sarcastically:  "Well,  my  lit- 
tle man,  are  you  going  to  finish  it?  " 

Whereto  the  boy  answered,  in  all  seriousness:  "Well,  ma'am, 
I  think  I  could,  leesurely." 


408  RUMOROUS  SCRAPS. 

©HE  Q5i^0NG  (Dan. 

The  porter  of  a  sleeping-car  knows  that  sometimes  unpleasant 
results  follow  from  waking  up  the  wrong  passenger. 

"Who  is  that  man  on  the  other  side?  He  looks  as  if  he  were 
asleep,"  said  a  junior  counsel  to  Daniel  Webster,  pointing  to 
George  Wood   the  leader  of  the  New  York  bar. 

"If  he  is  sleeping,"  answered  Mr.  Webster,  with  a  smile, 
"don't  you  wake  him  up,  or  it  will  be  worse  for  our  side." 

A  correspondent  of  the  New  York  Evening  Post,  writing 
from  the  South,  tells  of  a  foolish  bully  who  woke  up  a  solemn- 
looking  minister: 

Not  long  ago  there  were  several  ministers  in  a  Carolina  town 
not  many  miles  from  here,  attending  a  Conference.  One  of 
them,  a  wiry  athlete  from  Kentucky,  went  out  one  morning  for 
a  walk,  and  met  a  strapping  big  "  moonshiner,"  who  w^as  draw- 
ing a  wagon  to  a  blacksmith's  shop,  a  few  rods  away. 

"  Ketch  hold  o'  here,"  called  the  big  fellow,  "  an'  help  me  pull 
it  down  to  the  shop,  an'  I'll  buy  the  whisky." 

"I  never  drink,"  replied  the  minister. 

"  Wal,  you  kin  take  a  cigar,  I  reckon." 

"I  never  smoke." 

The  man  dropped  the  wagon-tongue,  and  looked  at  the  min- 
ister, and  said,  "See  yere,  stranger,  don't  ye  chaw?" 

"  No,  sir,"  was  the  decided  answer. 

"Humph!"  ejaculated  the  moonshiner,  shifting  his  weight 
upon  his  other  leg.     "You  must  git  lonesome,  don't  ye?" 

"Not  at  all,  sir." 

"Wal,  I'll  bet  ye  even  money  I  kin  lay  ye  flat  on  yer  back," 
said  the  moonshiner. 

"I  never  bet." 

"O  come  'long  now,  stranger,  let's  rassel  fer  fun  then;  back- 
holt  or  side-holt? " 

"I  never  have  fun,"  was  the  solemn  reply. 

"I'm  goin'  t'  tackle  ye,  anyway,  stranger,"  was  the  moon- 
shiner's response,  as  he  tossed  off"  his  coat.  "  Look  sharp  now, 
stranger;  here  we  go." 

The  festive  whisky-maker  slid  up  and  endeavored  to  get  a 
"back-hold,"  but  he  had  only  just  commenced  his  fun  when  he 
was  lifted  from  the  grass  and  slammed  with  such  force  against 


GIVING  A  ''FRESH  "  FELLO  W  A  LESSON.      409 

a  tree  that  he  gasped  half-a-dozen  times  before  he  could  catch  a 
long  breath. 

"  Now  you'd  better  keep  away,"  was  all  the  preacher  said. 

"Wal,  I'll  be  switched  ef  I  don't,"  sighed  the  moonshiner, 
edging  oft'.  "  But  I  say,  stranger,  'taint  no  use  o'  yer  sayin' 
you  did'nt  have  no  fun  in  ye,  when  you're  jist  chuck  full  and 
a-bilin'  over  with  it.  I  reckon  ye  wanted  t'  break  m'  back  for 
me,  didn't  ye?" 

Giving  a  "Ff^bsh"  Fellow  a  Libsson. 

One  of  those  exceptionally  "  fresh  "  individuals,  known  under 
the  polite  name  of  "drummers,"  received  a  lesson  in  Rhinebeck 
recently  which  may  benefit  him  on  his  travels.  He  sauntered 
into  an  auction  store  on  East  Market  street,  and  accosted  the 
proprietor  with  the  remark,  "Ah,  I  see  you  have  about  every 
thing  here." 

"  Yes,  sir,"  answered  the  urbane  shop-keeper,  "  a  little  of 'most 
every  thing." 

The  drummer  yawned  once  or  twice,  stroked  his  promissory 
mustache,  and  bestowing  a  knowing  look  of  superiority  on 
the  assembled  people,  remarked,  "  Well,  Captain,  suppose  you 
give  me  a  Cincinnati  search-warrant." 

The  auctioneer  very  coolly  turned  to  his  shelves,  opened  a 
small  box,  and  handed  a  fine-tooth  comb  to  the  fresh  young 
man,  saying:  "There,  sir,  is  the  best  search-warrant  you  can 
buy.  I  am  sure  if  you  use  it  you'll  find  what  you  are  in  search 
of." 

The  national  colors  appeared  on  that  smart  stranger's  face, 
and  he  immediately  had  business  elsewhere. 

A  clergyman  in  Durham,  England,  some  short  time  since, 
taught  an  old  man  in  his  pai'ish  to  read,  and  found  him  an  apt 
pupil.  After  his  lessons  were  finished  he  was  not  able  to  call 
for  some  time,  and  when  he  did,  only  found  the  wife  at  home. 
"  How's  John?  "  said  he.  "  How  does  he  get  on  with  his  read- 
ing?" "O,  nicely,  sir."  "Ah,  I  suppose  he'll  read  his  Bible 
very  comfortably  now?"  "Bible,  sir!  Bless  you,  he  was  out 
of  the  Bible  and  into  the  newspapers  long  ago." 

A  mere  matter  of  form — The  artist's  model. 


410  HUMOROUS  SCRAPS. 

^HY   f)B  <®I^IED. 

Dickens,  in  the  opening  chapter  of  "Pickwick  Papers,"  bur- 
lesques the  professional  quarreling  of  rival  journalists  and  law- 
yers. At  a  club  meeting,  Mr.  Pickwick  intimates  that  Mr. 
Blotton  is  a  calumniator,  and  is  denounced  by  that  member  as  a 
humbug.  The  chairman  asked  the  two  members  if  these  ex- 
pressions were  used  in  a  common  sense.  Each  declared  that 
they  were  not,  but  "  in  a  Pickwickian  sense."  Personally  they 
esteemed  each  other;  but  from  a  Pickwickian  point  of  view 
Pickwick  was  a  humbug  to  Blotton,  and  Blotton  a  calumniator 
to  Pickwick.  Rural  journalists  abuse  each  other,  but  their  ed- 
itors lunch  together.  Two  lawyers  quarrel  in  court,  and  then 
go  out,  arm  in  arm,  to  speculate  about  the  verdict.  The  abusive 
words  are  spoken  only  "in  a  Pickwickian  sense." 

Forty  or  fifty  years  ago,  the  two  leading  lawyers  of  Delaware 
County,  New  York,  were  Gen.  Root  and  Samuel  Sherwood. 
They  were  often  retained  on  the  opposite  sides  of  a  case,  and 
then  rivalry  provoked  them  to  hurl  bitter  sarcasms  at  each  other.. 

Gen.  Root  once  sued  a  man  for  slandering  him,  and  retained 
his  great  adversary  to  plead  his  cause.  Sherwood  entered  zeal- 
ously into  the  case,  and  at  the  trial  portrayed  the  sufferings  of 
his  client  with  such  pathos  that  Root  himself  was  so  over- 
whelmed as  to  shed  tears.  The  jury  gave  a  heavy  verdict  for 
Root. 

In  the  next  cause  tried  the  two  lawyers  again  found  them- 
selves on  opposite  sides.  As  usual,  they  waged  a  warfare  of 
wit  and  invective.  While  Sherwood  was  making  the  closing 
argument,  Root  hurled  at  him  a  taunt  so  savage  that,  turning  on 
him,  he  sneeringly  asked:  "Hadn't  you  better  cry  a  little,  as 
you  did  in  the  last  cause?" 

"It  would  make  anybody  cry  to  have  such  a  counsel  as  I 
had!"  cried  out  Root. 

A  good  story  is  told  of  a  divinity  student  who,  one  day  at  an 
examination,  being  deficient  in  Hebrew,  saw  with  alarm  a  diffi- 
cult verse  approaching.  In  desperation  he  seized  on  a  youth 
beside  him  who  was  subject  to  epilepsy,  and,  although  he  was 
that  day  quite  well,  carried  him  out  as  if  he  were  at  the  last 
gasp,  but  did  not  return  till  the  sederunt  was  over  and  "the 
dread  verse  was  past!" 


PROVERBS.  411 

I^I^OYEI^BS. 

"Josh  Billings"  has  published  the  following. 

Experience  is  a  school  where  a  man  learns  what  a  big  fool  he 
has  been. 

Out  in  the  world  men  show  us  two  sides  to  their  characters; 
by  the  fireside  only  one. 

The  world  is  filling  up  with  educated  fools;  mankind  read 
too  much  and  learn  too  little. 

Every  man  has  his  follies,  and  oftentimes  they  are  the  most 
interesting  things  he  has  got. 

This  is  my  plan:  To  believe  all  things  that  I  hear,  but  to  put 
my  faith  and  money  in  but  few. 

The  man  who  gets  bit  twice  by  the  same  dog  is  better  adapted 
for  that  kind  of  business  than  any  other. 

"Throw  physic  to  the  dogs  "  is  a  very  old  proverb;  but  where 
will  you  find  the  dogs  that  will  touch  it? 

A  dandy  is  an  individual  whose  usefulness  in  this  world  de- 
pends entirely  Upon  the  fit  of  his  clothes. 

There  are  two  kinds  of  fools  in  this  world — those  who  can't 
change  their  opinions  and  those  who  won't. 

The  man  who  doesn't  believe  in  any  hereafter  has  got  a  dread- 
fully mean  opinion  of  himself  and  his  chances. 

A  good  doctor  is  a  gentleman  to  whom  we  pay  three  dollars 
a  visit  for  advising  us  to  eat  less  and  exercise  more. 

Familiarity  is  a  dangerous  experiment;  the  most  familiar  thing 
in  the  whole  world  is  a  puppy,  and  the  oftenest  stepped  on. 

Tricks  upon  travelers  are  always  dangerous  experiments;  I 
have  known  a  dead  hornet  to  wake  up  suddenly,  and  sting  just 
once  more. 

There  is  a  great  deal  of  religion  in  this  world  that  is  like  a 
life-preserver — only  put  on  at  the  moment  of  immediate  dan- 
ger, and  then  half  the  time  put  on  hind-side  before. 

"John,  have  you  any  conscience.'"'  asked  a  prison  chaplain 
of  a  convict.  "Yes,  sir,"  answered  the  man;  "I  have  one 
nearly  as  good  as  new,  for  I  have  never  used  "it." 

What  is  life?  In  infancy,  a  battle  with  colic;  in  youth,  a 
struggle  to  keep  out  of  mischief;  in  manhood,  a  struggle  with 
indigestion;  and  in  old  age,  the  prelude  of  a  contested  will  case. 


412  HUMOROUS  SCRAPS. 

A  lady,  while  the  dentist  was  busy  with  her  teeth,  uttered 
dismal  oroans.  "You  seem  to  be  in  acute  pain,  madam,"  said 
the  sympathizing  dentist;  "do  I  hurt  you  much?"  "  O,  not  in 
the  least;  but  I  do  love  to  groan."  That  woman  is  a  type.  She 
represents  the  croakers,  of  whom  the  Scientific  Californian  thus 
speaks: 

"There  is  a  certain  class  of  people  who  are  never  happy  ex- 
cept when  they  are  predicting  that  the  country  is  going  to  the 
dogs.  They  are  always  filled  with  gloomy  forebodings  about 
the  future. 

"  If  there  is  a  strike  in  a  town  in  Connecticut,  they  feel  cer- 
tain that  the  country  is  going  to  be  turned  into  a  commune,  and 
the  streets  are  to  run  with  blood. 

"They  take  a  positive  delight  in  predicting  late  frosts,  and 
they  regard  the  grasshopper  and  cotton-worm  as  friends  and 
brethren. 

"  It  rarely  ever  happens  that  any  of  their  predictions  come  to 
pass,  but  that  does  not  discourage  them  in  the  least.  They  keep 
on  hoping  for  something  worse  to  turn  up  in  the  future." 

Grocer,  who  has  lately  joined  the  militia,  practicing  in  his 
shop:  " Right,  left,  right,  left.  Four  paces  to  the  rear;  march!  " 
— falls  down  trap-door  into  the  cellar.  Grocer's  wife,  anxiously: 
"O  Jim,  are  you  hurt?"  Grocer,  savagely,  but  with  dignity: 
"Go  away,  woman;  what  do  you  know  about  war?" 

A  little  girl  sat  on  the  floor  crying.  After  awhile  she  stopped 
and  seemed  buried  in  thought.  Looking  up  suddenly,  she  said: 
"Mamma,  what  was  I  crying  about?"  "Because  I  would  not 
let  you  go  down-town."  "O  yes!"  and  she  set  up  another 
howl. 

"I  suppose  you  get  up  early  to  set  a  good  example  to  the 
rising  generation?"  "O  no,  not  at  all!  The  rising  generation 
doesn't  need  any  example.  It's  the  generation  that  doesn't  rise 
that  I  want  to  influence." 

The  house-fly  can  only  see  a  distance  of  thirty-eight  feet,  but 
that  never  bothers  him  any.  He  always  manages  to  keep  within 
thirty-seven  feet  of  every  thing. 


THE  PATENT  MODE  OF  LIVING.  413 

^HE  Latent  CQodb  op  Ijiying. 


BY  CHARLES  DUDLEY  WAKNEK. 


I  am  sometimes  lost  in  delight  as  I  read  the  confident  and 
generous  directions  of  some  man  who  has  solved  the  problem 
of  correct  living,  and  given  his  gospel  to  the  world.  How 
much  better  than  any  imagined  millennium  will  that  be  when 
we  conform  all  our  vile  bodies  to  his  body!  what  a  sweet  uni- 
formity when  we  all  eat,  and  drink,  and  sleep,  and  dress,  and 
exercise  exactly  as  he  has  found  it  best  for  him!  The  process 
of  natural  selection  has  been  carried  quite  far  enough.  Let  us 
be  of  one  mind  and  diet — bran  of  one  bran,  flesh  of  one  flesh. 
We  shall  all  go  to  bed  at  one  hour,  and  that  right  early — except 
the  editors  of  morning  journals,  who  will  have  a  dispensation 
to  die  early.  We  shall  all  rise,  like  a  bed  of  ci'ocuses  in  spring, 
at  a  very  early  hour,  and  all  together.  Sickness  will  not  excuse 
us,  for  there  will  be  no  excuse  for  sickness.  At  the  same  mo- 
ment we  shall  be  engaged  in  taking  an  air-bath,  a  plunge-bath, 
a  sponge-bath,  a  dry-rub;  and  then  dressing  according  to  a  tab- 
ular set  of  figures,  furnished  by  the  central  authority,  showing 
the  proper  weight  of  each  garment,  according  to  the  tempera- 
ture indicated  by  the  thermometer,  we  shall  take  a  brisk  walk 
of  eleven  minutes.  We  shall  all  saw  wood  for  half  an  hour, 
if  we  have  no  lifting  machine,  and  then  sit  down  to  breakfast, 
to  consist  of  half  a  pint  of  filtered  water  (free  from  all  animal 
substances)  and  two  quarters  of  a  dried  apple,  or  any  other 
fruit  in  season,  to  be  eaten  with  the  utmost  cheerfulness,  and 
even  with  a  little  moderate  hilarity.  A  fried  apple  with  hilarity 
is  to  be  avoided.  After  breakfast  we  are  to  go  to  our  various 
occupations  with  a  clear  mind  and  an  elastic  frame.  By  twelve 
o'clock  we  shall  be  quite  ready  for  dinner.  This  meal  is  to  be 
varied  every  day  in  the  week — different  kinds  of  bran  bread, 
different  kinds  of  cracked  wheat,  different  kinds  of  dried  apples, 
and  other  sorts  of  fruit  that  do  not  contain  a  certain  kind  of 
acid  which  is  hostile  to  the  standard  stomach  of  the  reformer 
whom  we  follow,  to  be  eaten  with  a  great  deal  of  merriment 
(no  matter  who  has  died,  or  who  has  gone  into  bankruptcy),  to 
be  eaten  in  large  quantities.  In  fact,  we  are  to  eat  all  we  want 
at  this  king  meal,  with  one  restriction — we  are  to  leave  off  hun- 


414  HVMOBOUS  SCEAPS. 

gry  and  extremely  hilarious.  The  dinner  is  to  cost  not  over 
eight  cents,  except  you  dine  with  a  friend  and  he  pays  the  bill, 
in  whichtcase  you  may  take  sugar  on  your  fruit.  After  dinner 
you  may  take  a  siesta  of  twenty  minutes,  and  a  nap  in  your 
chair,  but  do  not  lie  down;  and  sleep  with  your  mouth  shut  if 
fly-time,  for  animal  food  is  absolutely  prohibited.  These  direc- 
tions may  seem  unimportant,  but  nothing  is  trivial  to  an  immor- 
tal man,  as  you  will  feel  when  you  go  to  your  business  wifh  a 
springing  step,  a  sparkling  eye,  glowing  cheeks,  fii^e  in  every 
limb,  exultant  blood  in  every  muscle,  and  the  consciousness  that 
you  have  no  butcher's  bill,  grocer's  bill,  or  milkman's,  that  you 
owe  no  man  a  dollar,  and  can  keep  all  the  commandments  just 
as  easy  as  you  can  wink.  As  you  walk  along  the  street  you 
occasionally  jump  into  the  air  four  or  five  feet,  or  leap  over  the 
boundary  fence  and  back,  and  laugh  aloud.  At  supper  it  is 
best  for  you  to  eat  nothing,  excepting  your  own  cheerfulness. 
But,  if  nature  will  have  something,  try  a  little  brown  bread, 
raised  without  yeast,  slowly  masticating  it,  thinking  about  but- 
ter, and  being  careful  to  call  up  no  image  that  will  induce  ex- 
cessive laughter,  for  this  is  the  time  to  begin  to  tranquilize  the 
mind  and  prepare  for  self-satisfied  slumber. 

^OLD-BLOODED  flMEI^IGANS. 

A  French  gentleman  and  scholar  recently  visited  one  of  the 
oldest  families  of  Boston,  who  reside  in  one  of  the  oldest  houses 
in  the  suburbs,  which  is  heated  through  registers  in  the  floor. 
The  visitor  planted  his  chair  over  one  of  these,  where  he  sat 
sweltering  for  an  hour  or  more,  not  knowing  where  the  hot 
waves  came  from,  and  was  entirely  too  polite  to  speak  of  his 
discomfort.  Noticing  that  the  others  were  perfectly  comforta- 
ble, he  concluded  that  the  temperature  was  probably  not  at  all 
uncomfortable  to  the  literati  of  America,  which  he  had  often 
heard  were  extremely  cold-blooded.  The  family  were  terribly 
mortified  when  they  heard  of  how  their  distinguished  visitor 
had  been  broiled  and  rendered  so  uncomfortable.  He  threatens 
to  write  a  book  on  America. 

Charles  Dudley  Warner  says  that,  while  the  country  is  filled 
with  people  unable  to  pay  for  a  newspaper,  he  has  never  heard 
of  any  body  unable  to  edit  one. 


DESCRIPTION  OF  HEA  YEN.  415 

r>B  tOASN'iP   gl^EPAI^ED. 

Traveling  in  his  buggy  alone,  not  long  ago,  in  going  to  one 
of  his  appointments,  one  of  our  good  brethren  in  the  Presby- 
tery of  Memphis  overtook  a  tramp,  with  his  carpet-bag  in  his 
hand.  The  roads  were  muddy,  and  he  was  just  at  the  time 
about  entering  a  miry  bottom.  With  the  politeness  for  which 
he  is  noted  he  asked  the  pedestrian  (an  entire  stranger)  if  he 
would  not  take  a  seat  in  the  buggy  until  at  least  they  had 
crossed  the  mud  and  mire.  The  invitation  was  readily  accepted, 
and  the  conversation  for  a  time  was  free  and  easy,  about  things 
ordinary  and  general.  Presently,  however,  the  good  brother, 
with  a  view  to  make  the  conversation  profitable,  asked  the 
stranger  if  he  was  ready  to  die.  Not  knowing  the  character 
of  the  person  who  had  invited  him  to  a  seat  with  him,  and  mis- 
apprehending his  meaning,  and  suspecting  foul  play,  he  waited 
not  to  reply,  but  sprang  from  the  buggy  immediately  and  ran 
for  life  through  slush  and  water.  The  clerical  brother,  wishing 
to  assure  the  stranger  that  he  meant  no  harm,  called  to  him  at 
the  top  of  his  voice  to  stop!  But  this  only  hastened  his  speed, 
and  like  a  scared  hare  he  ran  until  beyond  hearing  and  sight. 
In  his  hasty  flight  he  left  his  carpet-sack,  which  our  brother 
now  has  in  his  possession — being  the  richer  for  his  faithfulness 
by  the  addition  of  a  coarse  shirt,  a  pair  of  threadbare  trousers, 
and  a  little  "backer." 

Dbsgi^iption  op  I^BAYBN. 

That  eccentric  preacher,  Lorenzo  Dow,  was  once  stopping  at 
a  hotel  in  New  York  kept  by  a  man  named  Bush.  Among  the 
guests  was  a  Gen.  Root.  They  occasionally  made  themselves 
merry  at  Lorenzo's  expense.  One  day  Gen.  Root  began  upon 
him  thus:  "Mr.  Dow,  you  tell  us  a  great  deal  about  heaven. 
Now  I  want  you  to  tell  me  plainly  what  sort  of  a  place  heaven 
is."  With  imperturbable  gravity  the  preacher  replied:  "Heav- 
en, gentlemen,  is  a  smooth,  rich,  fertile  country;  there  isn't  a  bush 
or  root  in  it,  and  there  never  will  be."  The  Root  and  Bush  sub- 
sided, and  Mr.  Dow  was  not  further  troubled. 

A  Zulu  belle  is  like  the  proverbial  prophet — she  has  not 
much  on'er  in  her  own  country. 


416  HUMOROUS  SCRAPS. 

?^HAin  iPHB  ^i^oMpiiiEi^  Sold  F^im. 

A  notable  tragedian  being  engaged  to  play  Macbeth  at  a 
country  theater,  at  the  last  moment  the  man  who  was  to  act  the 
messenger  in  the  fifth  scene  of  the  last  act  fell  ill.  The  prompt- 
er, however,  was  equal  to  the  occasion.  He  got  hold  of  a 
"super,"  an  Irishman,  whom  he  drilled  to  repeat  the  ill-omened 
lines,  and  instructed  him  how  to  deliver  them.  When  Macbeth 
was  ready  for  him,  on  went  the  Irishman,  and  got  bravely 
through  his  task: 

"As  I  did  stand  my  watch  upon  the  hill, 
I  looked  toward  Birnam,  and  anon  methought 
The  wood  began  to  move." 

"Liar!  slave!"  cried  the  great  tragedian,  flying  upon  the  ter- 
rified "super"  and  grasping  his  throat.  Down  on  his  knees 
dropped  the  messenger,  gasping  in  his  agony: 

"'On  my  sowl,  sir,  that's  exactl}^  what  the  prompter  towld  me 
to  say." 

A  good  story  is  told  of  Artemus  Ward,  when  traveling  on  a 
slow-going  Southern  I'oad  soon  after  the  war.  When  the  con- 
ductor was  punching  his  ticket  Artemus  remarked,  "Does  this 
railroad  company  allow  passengers  to  give  it  advice  if  they  do 
so  in  a  respectful  manner?"  The  conductor  replied  in  grufl:' 
tones  that  he  guessed  so.  ".Well,"  Artemus  went  on,  "it  oc- 
curred to  me  it  would  be  well  to  detach  the  cow-catcher  from 
in  front  of  the  engine  and  hitch  it  to  the  rear  of  the  train. 
For,  you  see,  we  are  not  liable  to  overtake  a  cow,  but  what's  to 
prevent  a  cow  strolling  into  this  car  and  biting  a  passenger.?" 

Several  years  ago  a  listener  ventured  a  compliment  to  Pro- 
fessor Agassiz  upon  the  extent  and  variety  of  his  investigations 
into  the  secrets  of  nature,  to  which  his  ready  and  modest  reply 
was,  "My  dear  sir,  ze  longer  I  live  ze  more  I  find  I  know 
nosing." 

The  Burlington  Hawkeye  says:  "And  still,  year  by  year,  the 
standard  of  college  education  is  raised  higher  and  higher,  and 
higher  and  higher.     Columbia  has  just  organized  a  banjo  club.  * 

Promising  affair — An  engagement  ring. 


ANECDOTE  OF  "  OLD  HICKORY:'  417 

flNBGDOTE   OP   "Old   I7I6K0I^Y." 

Shortly  after  Mr.  Buchanan's  return  from  Russia  in  1834,  to 
which  he  had  been  sent  by  President  Jackson  in  1832,  and  im- 
mediately following  his  election  to  the  United  States  Senate,  he 
called  up'on  "Old  Hickory"  with  a  fair  English  lady,  whom  he 
desired  to  present  to  the  head  of  the  American  nation.  Leav- 
ing her  in  the  reception-room  down-stairs,  he  ascended  to  the 
President's  private  quarters,  and  found  Gen.  Jackson  unshaved, 
unkempt,  in  his  dressing-gown,  with  his  slippered  feet  on  the 
fender  before  a  blazing  good  fire,  smoking  a  cob-pipe  of  the 
old  Southern  school.  He  stated  his  object,  when  the  General 
said  he  would  be  very  glad  to  meet  the  handsome  acquaintance 
of  the  new  bachelor  Senatcvr.  Mr.  Buchanan  was  always  care- 
ful of  his  personal  appearance,  and  in  some  respects  was  a 
sort  of  masculine  Miss  Fribble,  addicted  to  spotless  cravats  and 
huge  collars;  rather  proud  of  a  small  foot  for  a  man  of  his  large 
stature,  and  to  the  last  of  his  life  what  the  ladies  would  call  "a 
very  good  figure."  Having  just  returned  from  a  visit  to  the 
fashionable  continental  circles,  after  two  years  of  thorough  in- 
tercourse with  the  etiquette  of  one  of  the  stateliest  courts  in 
Europe,  he  was  somewhat  shocked  at  the  idea  of  the  President 
meeting  the  eminent  English  lady  in  such  a  guise,  and  ventured 
to  ask  if  he  did  not  intend  to  change  his  attire;  whereupon  the 
old  warrior  rose,  with  his  long  pipe  in  his  hand,  and  deliber- 
ately knocking  the  ashes  out  of  the  bowl,  said  to  his  friend: 
"  Buchanan,  I  want  to  give  you  a  little  piece  of  advice,  which  I 
hope  you  will  remember.  I  knew  a  man  once  who  made  his 
fortune  by  attending  to  his  own  business.  Tell  the  lady  I  will 
see  her  presently." 

The  man  who  became  President  in  1856  was  fond  of  saying 
that  this  remark  of  Andrew  Jackson  humiliated  him  more  than 
any  rebuke  he  had  ever  received.  He  walked  down-stairs  to 
meet  his  fair  charge,  and  in  a  very  short  time  President  Jackson 
entered  the  room,  dressed  in  a  full  suit  of  black,  cleanly  shaved, 
with  his  stubborn  white  hair  forced  back  from  his  remarkable 
face,  and  advancing  to  the  beautiful  Britisher,  saluted  her  with 
almost  kingly  grace.  As  she  left  the  White  House  she  ex- 
claimed to  her  escort,  "Your  republican  President  is  the  royal 
model  of  a  gentleman." 
27 


418  HUMOROUS  SCRAPS. 

fl   UENTI^ILOQUIST'S   (ilOI^B. 

Frederick  McCabe,  the  ventriloquist,  is  a  great  practical 
joker.  Several  years  ago  he  was  on  board  a  Mississippi  River 
steamboat,  and,  forming  an  acquaintance  with  the  engineer,  was 
allowed  the  freedom  of  the  engine-room.  He  took  a  seat  in  a 
corner,  and,  pulling  his  hat  down  over  his  eyes,  appeared  lost 
in  reverie.  Presently  a  certain  part  of  the  machinery  began  to 
squeak.  The  engineer  oiled  it  and  went  about  his  usual  duties. 
In  the  course  of  a  few  minutes  the  squeaking  was  heard  again, 
and  the  engineer  rushed  over,  oil-can  in  hand,  to  lubricate  the 
same  spindle.  Again  he  returned  to  his  post,  but  it  was  only  a 
few  minutes  until  the  same  old  spindle  was  squeaking  louder 
than  ever.  "  Great  Jupiter!"  he  yelled,  "the  thing's  bewitched." 
More  oil  was  administered,  but  the  engineer  began  to  smell  a 
rat.  Pretty  soon  the  spindle  squeaked  again,  and,  slipping  up 
behind  McCabe,  the  engineer  squirted  a  half-pint  of  oil  down 
the  joker's  back.  "There,"  said  he,  "  I  guess  that  spindle  won't 
squeak  any  more!"  The  joke  was  so  good  that  McCabe  could 
not  keep  it,  and  he  often  tells  it  with  as  much  relish  as  his  audi- 
tors receive  it. 

At  another  time  McCabe  was  confronted  by  a  highwayman, 
on  one  of  the  lonely  streets  of  Cincinnati,  as  he  was  returning 
to  his  hotel  from  a  moonlight  picnic.  The  robber  presented  a 
cocked  revolver  to  the  ventriloquist's  head,  demanding  his 
money  or  his  life.  McCabe's  quick  wit  saved  him.  He  threw 
his  voice  behind  the  robber,  exclaiming:  "  Hold,  villain,  you  are 
my  prisoner!"  The  frightened  scamp  turned  his  head,  and 
McCabe  dealt  him  a  blow  that  felled  him  to  the  ground.  He 
then  secured  the  revolver  and  marched  the  scoundrel  off  to  a 
police  station. 

At  a  late  term  of  the  Court  of  Sessions,  a  man  was  brought 
up  by  a  farmer,  accused  of  stealing  some  ducks.  "How  do 
you  know  they  are  your  ducks?"  "O,  I  should  know  them 
any  where,"  replied  the  farmer,  and  went  on  to  describe  their 
different  peculiarities.  "Why,"  said  the  prisoner's  counsel, 
"  those  ducks  can't  be  such  a  rare  breed;  I  have  some  very  like 
them  in  my  own  yard."  "That's  not  unlikely,  sir,"  replied  the 
farmer;  "they  are  not  the  only  ducks  I  have  had  stolen  lately!  " 
"Call  the  next  witness!" 


WHISTLING.  419 

F{Einoi^iis. 

Dean  Swift  was  disposed  to  play  the  autocrat  in  society  and 
at  his  own  house.  His  indulgence  of  this  disposition  prevented 
him  from  being  a  gentleman.  One  day  the  dean's  publisher, 
Alderman  Faulkner,  dined  at  the  deanery.  One  of  the  dishes 
^yas  asparagus,  to  which  the  dean  helped  his  guest.  Upon  the 
alderman  passing  his  plate  for  a  second  portion,  his  host  said: 
'*  First  finish  what  you  have  upon  your  plate." 

"What!  eat  my  stalks?"  exclaimed  the  surprised  guest. 

"Yes,  sir;  eat  your  stalks.  King  William  always  eats  the 
stalks."  The  alderman  obeyed  his  despotic  and  discourteous  host. 

The  dean  was  blunt  in  speech  and  a  wit,  but  like  many  wits 
and  free-speaking  people,  disliked  to  be  repaid  in  his  own  coin. 
Once,  when  he  had  a  Roman  Catholic  joriest  at  his  house,  he 
bluntly  asked  him:  "  Sir,  why  does  the  Roman  Church  use 
pictures  and  images?     The  Church  of  England  does  not." 

"Because,"  replied  the  witty  priest,  "we  are  old  housekeep- 
ers, and  you  are  new  beginners." 

The  answer  so  incensed  Swift  that  he  left  the  room. 

Being  at  an  inn,  and  seeing  the  cook  scraping  a  piece  of 
mutton,  he  asked:  "Girl,  how  many  maggots  are  there  in  that 
mutton?" 

"Not  so  many  as  are  in  your  head,"  answered  the  cook. 

Swift  was  so  angry  that  he  complained  to  the  landlady.  If  a 
man  will  be  impudent,  he  must  expect  impudence  from  others. 

05HISIIILING. 

The  man  who  whistles  should  not  practice  his  art  in  public 
places.  If  he  does  not  afflict  others  by  his  jDiping  he  makes 
himself  a  nuisance,  which  any  gentleman  is  at  liberty  to  abate. 

An  English  wit  once  admonished  one  of  these  pipers  in  a 
style  that  took  all  the  whistle  out  of  him  for  a  time. 

The  gentleman  was  riding  with  his  son  in  an  omnibus,  which 
also  carried  a  whistler. 

"  Who  is  that  lady  who  is  whistling?"  asked  the  father  of  the 
son  in  a  loud  voice. 

"It  is  not  a  lady,  papa;  it  is  a  gentleman,"  answered  the  son. 

"A  gentleman!"  exclaimed  the  father.  "You  must  be  mis- 
taken, my  boy.     No  gentleman  ever  whistles  in  an  omnibus." 


420  humorous  scraps. 

She  Fai^mef^'s  ^i^iyate  I^aili^oad  Siiation. 

"We  made  a  singular  discovery  the  other  day,"  remarked  an 
official  of  a  road  running  into  Chicago.  "About  three  miles 
beyond  a  certain  station  on  our  line  there  is  a  farm-house  by  the 
side  of  the  track.  Just  beyond  the  farm-house  is  a  little  creek, 
over  which  there  is  a  small  bridge.  About  four  years  ago  some 
repairs  w^ere  made  to  that  little  bridge,  and,  of  course,  the 
bridge-gang  had  jDut  up  a  sign-board,  'Run  slow,'  on  either  side 
during  the  day  or  so  the  bridge  was  weakened.  When  they 
had  finished  their  work  they  went  off,  and  forgot  the  signs. 
The  fact  is,  the  boards  had  disappeared,  and  they  didn't  take  the 
trouble  to  hunt  them  up. 

"Some  weeks  afterward,  no  one  knows  just  when,  those 
signs  reappeared  in  their  former  places.  Nobody  knew  who 
put  them  there  and  what  for.  Nobody  cared.  If  the  section- 
men  noticed  them  at  all  they  thought  the  bridge  men  had  done 
it.  It  was  none  of  the  engineers'  business  why  they  were  there 
— it  was  their  duty  to  observe  regulations,  which  required  them 
to  slow  down  at  all  such  signs.  Observe  regulations  they  did. 
For  about  four  years  not  a  train  had  passed  over  the  little  bridge 
without  slowing  almost  to  a  stand-still.  The  culvert,  for  that's 
all  it  is,  has  been  as  safe  as  any  part  of  the  road-bed,  and  yet 
stopping  and  starting  trains  there  has  cost  this  company  thou- 
sands of  dollars.  You  know,  it  costs  money  to  stop  and  start 
trains. 

"You  are  wondering  how  it  all  comes  about,  of  course. 
Well,  that  farmer  stole  those  boards  and  put  them  up  again  at 
his  leisure.  For  four  years  he  has  been  going  into  the  town,  or 
coming  from  it,  on  our  trains,  getting  on  or  off  right  at  his  own 
door.  It  was  a  slick  scheme;  and  how  he  must  have  laughed  at 
us  and  enjoyed  it  all  the  while!  But  his  game  is  up  now,  and 
the  engineers  are  having  their  revenge  by  keeping  up  an  in- 
fernal screeching  of  their  whistles  at  all  hours  of  the  day  or 
night  whenever  they  pass  the  farm-house." 

Old  lady  (to  druggist):  "I  want  a  box  of  canine  pills." 
Druggist:  "What's  the  matter  with  the  dog? "  Old  lady  (in- 
dignantly): "I  want  you  to  know,  sir,  that  my  husband  is  a 
gentleman!  "  Druggist  puts  up  some  quinine  pills  in  profound 
silence. 


finding  the  screw.  421 

Finding  jphe  Sgi^ew. 

A  Nevada  judge  tells  this  good  story  illustrative  of  the  dis- 
position of  a  chicken — which  he  shares  with  his  big  brother, 
the  ostrich — to  pick  up  any  bright  and  small  object,  no  matter 
if  it  is  a  diamond,  or  a  gold  ring.  In  1850  he  made  the  trip 
from  Mazatlan  to  San  Francisco  on  the  French  bark  Surprise. 
One  day,  when  about  half-way  up  the  coast,  the  steward  had 
out  the  binnacie-lamp  and  was  engaged  in  cleaning  and  polish- 
ing it.  He  had  it  on  the  deck,  had  taken  it  apart,  and  had  the 
debris,  wreckage,  or  whatever  you  would  call  it  when  at  sea, 
scattered  about. 

The  vessel  was  rolling  slightly,  and  as  it  rolled  it  caused  a 
brass  screw  about  half  an  inch  in  length  to  travel  down  the 
deck.  Some  chickens  were  loitering  about,  and  the  flash  of 
the  screw  caught  the  eye  of  an  old  hen.  She  dashed  at  the  bit 
of  brass,  and  in  a  moment  it  was  in  her  crop. 

The  judge  saw  the  transaction,  and  inwardly  chuckled,  as  he 
knew  there  would  soon  be  Davy  Jones  to  pay  about  that  screw. 
When  the  steward  had  polished  the  lamp  and  was  putting  it 
together  he  missed  a  particular  and  important  screw. 

After  searching  for  it  for  some  minutes  he  spoke  of  his  loss 
to  some  of  the  sailors.  They  joined  in  the  search,  but  no  screw 
could  be  found.  Soon  the  attention  of  the  captain  was  attracted 
to  the  group  of  searchers,  and  the  steward  was  obliged  to  tell 
him  of  the  loss. 

The  skipper  flew  into  a  rage  at  once.  The  poor  steward  was 
on  the  point  of  being  served  without  ceremony,  when  the  judge 
thought  it  time  to  appear  on  the  scene. 

He  told  the  captain  that  if  he  wanted  the  screw  it  could  be 
found  with  but  little  trouble.  He  had  only  to  order  one  of  the 
men  to  catch  an  old  black  hen  that  he  pointed  out,  cut  oft'  her 
head,  open  her  crop,  and  the  screw  would  be  found. 

The  captain  had  the  fowl  caught  at  once.  Its  head  was  cut 
off",  its  crop  opened,  and  out  rolled  the  lost  screw.  Sailors  and 
all  on  board  were  astounded,  and  even  the  captain  changed  color. 
The  face  of  the  steward  showed  a  queer  mixture  of  delight 
and  awe. 

After  that  bit  of  legerdemain  the  steward  could  find  nothing 
good  enough  for  the  judge;  and  when  the  wind  failed  he  heard 


422  HUMOROUS  SCRAPS. 

hints  among  the  sailors  that  they  might  have  a  ten-knot  breeze 
any  time  they  wanted  it,  i^rovided  a  certain  person  on  board 
should  see  fit  to  give  it  to  them. 

I7OW    r)B    WAS   (©UI^ED. 

It  is  so  hazardous  to  startle  very  sick  people,  that  as  a  rule  no 
competent  physician  or  nurse  allows  a  patient  in  that  condition 
to  be  disturbed  out  of  perfect  quiet.  Exceptions  to  this,  where 
the  result  has  been  beneficial,  have  usually  been  in  the  nature 
of  comical  surprises.  An  English  invalid,  who  had  been  con- 
fined to  his  house  for  many  years  by  chronic  rheumatism,  w^ent 
out  one  summer-day,  and  endeavored  to  cross  a  lot.  While 
making  the  effort  he  heard  a  noise  behind  him,  and  found  him- 
self pursued  by  a  bull.  He  dropped  his  crutches,  ran,  leaped  a 
fence,  and  was  entirely  cured  of  his  rheumatism. 

A  man  who  lay  very  ill  of  a  fever  had  an  uncle  living  in  the 
house,  a  huge  old  man  almost  stone-deaf,  and  with  a  tremen- 
dously loud  voice.  He  was  quite  eccentric,  too,  in  his  ways, 
and  he  had  the  habit  of  saying  whatever  came  into  his  mind  in 
the  plainest  language. 

In  the  ci-itical  condition  of  the  sick  man  great  care  was  taken 
to  exclude  his  uncle  from  the  room,  for  the  least  shock  or  ex- 
citement might  prove  instantly  fatal.  But  one  day,  in  the  mo- 
mentary absence  of  the  nurse,  the  old  gentleman  slipped  into 
the  chamber  and  installed  his  ponderous  frame  in  a  chair  by  the 
bedside. 

The  invalid,  who  was  unable  to  speak,  opened  his  eyes,  and 
turned  them  wearily  on  the  stern  face  of  the  old  Puritan,  which 
seemed  to  him  lighted  up  Vvith  unusual  interest  and  tenderness, 
and  he  braced  himself  up  to  listen,  not  doubting  that  his  uncle 
had  something  of  grave  import  to  say — something  about  the  set- 
tlement of  his  business,  possibly,  or  about  the  future  life. 

Up  to  this  time  the  invalid  had  not  been  told  of  his  critical 
condition,  and  one  reason  of  excluding  the  old  gentleman  from 
the  room  was  the  fear  that  he  would  blurt  out  some  announce- 
ment of  the  patient's  extreme  danger,  which  would  be  a  greater 
shock  than  he  could  bear. 

It  was  evident  from  his  manner  that  the  old  gentleman  had 
something  very  important  to  say.     He  drew  nearer  the  bed,  re- 


A  GREEN  COUPLE.  423 

gardcd  his  nephew  with  the  utmost  seriousness,  and  bending 
down  to  the  pillow  shouted  in  the  sick  man's  car,  in  a  voice 
that  made  the  house  ring:  "Augustus,  have  you  ever  considered 
the  advantages  of  being  buried  in  a  sandy  soil?" 

The  absurd  incongruity  of  the  question  so  overcame  the  sick 
man  that  he  closed  his  eyes  and  fairly  shook  with  laughter;  and 
the  shock  gave  such  a  fillip  to  nature  that  he  seemed  to  improve 
from  that  moment. 

p  Gi^BEN  Couple. 

A  cracker  about  thirty  years  of  age  came  to  a  minister  in 
Greeneville,  S.  C,  not  long  ago,  accompanied  by  a  young  girl 
of  about  twenty,  who  was  dressed  in  a  faded  calico  dress. 
After  some  hemming  and  hawing,  the  man  stated  that  they  de- 
sired to  be  married. 

The  matrimonial  knot  was  tied,  but  when  the  divine  came  to 
make  out  the  certificate  a  difiiculty  arose.  When  the  cracker 
whs  asked  his  name  he  replied,  "John." 

"But  what  is  your  other  name?"  asked  the  clergyman. 

"I  ain't  got  no  other  name,"  was  the  somewhat  startling 
reply. 

"But  what  is  your  father's  name?" 

"  Peter." 

"What  do  you  call  him  when  you  don't  call  him  Peter! "  per- 
sisted the  minister,  thinking  he  had  struck  the  right  track  at 
last. 

"We  calls  him  pop! "  was  the  answer,  which  was  given  in  a 
"that-settles-the-matter"  tone. 

Further  questioning  was  vain,  and  the  clergyman  was  in- 
creasingly amazed  when  he  found  that  the  bride  did  not  know 
her  family  name  either. 

A  reward  having  been  oflfered  for  a  rhyme  to  Arkansaw,  the 
Arkansaw  Traveler  s'&t  its  machine  to  work  and  ground  out  the 
following: 

There  is  a  young  man  here  in  Arkansaw 
Who  can  saw  as  much  wood  as  his  ma  can  saw; 
But  give  him  an  ax. 
And  with  one  or  two  whacks 
He'll  choi?  up  more  logs  than  his  pa  can  saw. 


424  HUMOROUS  SCRAPS. 

©YING   JPHB    I^NOT. 

A  young  fellow  was  taking  a  ride  with  a  pretty  girl,  when 
he  met  a  minister  who  was  celebrated  for  tying  the  matrimonial 
knot  at  short  notice.     He  stopped  him,  and  asked  hurriedly: 

"Can  you  tie  a  knot  for  me?" 

"Yes,"  said  Brother  B— = — ;  "when  do  you  want  it  done?" 

"Well,  right  away,"  was  the  reply.  "Is  it  lawful,  though, 
here  on  the  highway?" 

"O  yes;  this  is  as  good  a  place  as  any — as  safe  as  the  church 
itself." 

"Well,  then,  I  want  a  knot  tied  on  my  horse's  tail,  to  keep  it 
out  of  the  snow!"  shouted  the  wag,  as  he  drove  rapidly  away. 

fl   Sl^BAGHEI^OUS  fflSMOI^Y. 

A  story  is  told  of  a  certain  noble  lord  that,  after  a  prolonged 
tour,  he  was  asked  at  a  dinner-party  what  he  thought  of  Athens. 
Turning  to  his  servant,  who  was  standing  behind  his  chair, -he 
calmly  demanded,  "John,  what  did  I  think  of  Athens?" 

Dining  one  day  with  six  large  men,  Isaac  Watts,  who  was  a 
small  man,  was  asked  how  he  felt  among  so  many  men,  and  re- 
plied "  that  he  was  a  sixpence  among  six  pennies,  worth  them 
all." 

"You  have  no  ruins,  no  natural  curiosities,  in  this  country," 
drawled  Mr.  Oscar  Wilde  to  Mrs.  Senator  Pendleton  at  a  re- 
ception. "No,"  replied  the  quick-witted  lady;  "but  our  ruins 
will  come  soon  enough;  and  as  to  our  curiosities,  we  import 
them." 

A  gentleman  in  Brooklyn,  celebrating  the  birth  of  a  daugh- 
ter on  the  day  of  the  opening  of  the  bridge,  proceeded  to  call 
her  Victoria,  in  honor  of  the  Qiieen's  birthday,  whereupon  a 
friend  (not  an  alderman)  suggested  that»a  more  appropriate 
name  would  be  Bridget! 

A  fool  once  found  his  way  into  a  Scotch  pulpit.  The  minis- 
ter said  to  him,  kindly:  "  Come  down,  Jamie;  that  is  my  place," 
"Come  ye  up,  sir,"  was  the  reply.  "They  are  a  stiff-necked 
and  rebellious  generation,  the  people  o'  this  place,  and  it  will 
take  us  both  to  manage  them." 


BALANCING  EVIDENCE.  426 

BAIiANGING    Gyidbngb. 

Few  cases  are  more  laughable  than  that  which  describes  the 
arithmetical  process  by  which  Baron  Perrot  arrived  at  the  value 
of  certain  conflicting  evidence.  "Gentlemen  of  the  jury,"  this 
judge  is  reported  to  have  said  in  summing  up  the  evidence  in  a 
trial  where  the  witnesses  had  sworn  with  noble  tenacity  of  pur- 
pose, "there  are  fifteen  witnesses  who  swear  that  the  water- 
course used  to  flow  in  a  ditch  on  the  north  side  of  the  hedge. 
On  the  other  hand,  gentlemen,  there  are  nine  witnesses  who 
swear  that  the  water-course  used  to  flow  on  the  south  side  of 
the  hedge.  Now,  gentlemen,  if  you  subtract  nine  from  fifteen, 
there  remain  six  witnesses  wholly  uncontradicted;  and  I  recom- 
mend you  to  give  your  verdict  for  the  party  who  called  those 
six  witnesses." 

Lady:  "IJave  you  given  the  gold-fish  fresh  water, as  I  told 
you,  Marion."  Marion:  "No,  ma'am,  and  why  should  I.''  Sure 
they  haven't  drunk  what  they  have  yet!" 

Coming  down  Greene  street  near  Caraker's  store,  here  is  the 
way  they  talked:  "What  kind  o'  dog  is  that?"  said  one  boy  to 
the  other.  The  reply  was,  "  It's  a  watch-dog."  "  Is  he  a  good 
watch-dog?"  said  the  other  boy.  "Well,  I  guess  so,"  said  the 
other  boy;  "it  takes  all  me  and  mammy's  time  to  watch  him  for 
fear  he'll  eat  up  every  thing  in  the  house." 

Francis  I.  being  desirous  to  raise  one  of  the  most  learned 
men  of  the  times  to  the  highest  dignities  of  the  Church,  asked 
him  if  he  was  of  noble  descent.  "Your  Majesty,"  answered 
the  abbot,  "there  were  three  brothers  in  Noah's  ark,  but  I  can- 
not tell  positively  frorr^  which  of  them  I  am  descended."  He 
obtained  the  post. 

Mr.  Peet,  a  rather  diflSdent  man,  was  unable  to  prevent  him- 
self from  being  introduced  one  evening  to  a  fascinating  young 
lady,  who,  misunderstanding  his  name,  constantly  addressed 
him  as  Mr.  Peters,  much  to  that  gentleman's  distress.  Finally, 
summoning  courage,  he  bashfully  but  earnestly  remonstrated, 
"O,  don't  call  me  Peters;  call  me  Peet."  "Ah,  but  I  don't 
know  you  well  enough,  Mr.  Peters!"  said  the  young  lady, 
blushinsr. 


426  HUMOROUS  SCRAPS. 

"Do  you  pretend  to  have  as  good  judgment  as  I  have!"  ex- 
claimed an  enraged  wife  to  her  husband.  "-Well,  no,"  he  re- 
pHed  slowly; "our  choice  of  partners  for  life  shows  that  my 
judgment  is  not  to  be  compared  to  yours." 

President  Lincoln  was  exceedingly  a§tonished  one  day,  as  he 
was  inspecting  the  prison  in  Washington,  by  a  prisoner  who 
said  to  him:  "How  are  you,  Mr.  President?  I  am  very  glad  to 
see  you.  I  believe  that  you  and  I  have  been  in  every  jail  in  the 
Union."  "This  and  the  jail  in  Springfield  are  the  only  ones  I 
was  ever  in  in  my  life,"  said  Mr.  Lincoln.  "Very  likely,"  re- 
sponded the  rogue,  "but  I've  been  in  all  the  rest." 

Benjamin  Jekyll  was  at  the  same  time  the  brighest  wit  and 
the  most  shameless  punster  of  Westminster  Hall  in  the  reign 
of  George  III.  One  of  his  best  displays  of  brilliant  impudence 
was  perpetrated  on  a  Welsh  judge,  who  was  alike  notorious  for 
his  greed  of  office  and  his  want  of  personal  cleanliness.  "  My 
dear  sir,"  Jekyll  observed,  in  big  most  amiable  manner,  to  this 
most  unamiable  personage,  "you  have  asked  the  minister  for 
almost  every  thing  else,  why  donH  you  ask  him  for  a  piece  of 
soap  and  a  nail-brush?" 

He  was  a  young  lawyer,  and  was  delivering  his  maiden 
speech.  Like  most  young  lawyers,  he  was  florid,  rhetorical, 
scattering,  and  windy.  For  four  weary  hours  he  talked  at  the 
court  and  jury,  until  everybody  felt  like  lynching  him.  When 
he  got  through,  his  opponent,  a  grizzled  old  professional,  arose, 
looked  sweetly  at  the  judge,  and  said:  "Your  honor,  I  will  fol- 
low the  example  of  my  friend  who  has  just  finished,  and  sub- 
mit the  case  without  argument."  Then  he  sat  down,  and  the 
silence  was  large  and  appreciative. 

A  capital  story  used  to  be  told  of  the  late  David  Roberts, 
An  art  critic,  who  was  his  personal  friend,  published  a  sharp 
attack  upon  certain  pictures  of  his,  just  exhibited.  "My  dear 
Roberts,"  wrote  the  critic  in  a  private  letter,  "you  may  have 
seen  my  remarks  on  your  picture.  I  hope  they  will  make  no 
difference  in  our  friendship.     Yours,  etc., ." 

"My  dear ,"  wrote  the  painter  in  reply,  "the  next  time  I 

meet  you  I  shall  pull  your  nose.  I  hope  it  will  make  no  differ- 
ence in  our  friendship.     Yours,  etc.,  D.  Roberts." 


TRAMPS.  427 

"Only  to  Shuii  the  Doof?." 

Dean  Swift,  the  witty  essayist,  used  to  punish  disobedient 
servants  in  whimsical  ways.  The  housekeeper  hired  the  maid- 
servants, and  the  Dean  gave  them  two  commands:  One,  to 
shut  the  door  whenever  they  came  into  a  room;  the  other,  to 
shut  the  door  after  them  whenever  they  went  out  of  a  room. 

A  maid-servant  once  asked  permission  to  go  to  her  sister's 
wedding,  which  was  to  take  place  ten  miles  from  Dublin.  The 
Dean  not  only  consented,  but  ordered  a  man-servant  to  carry 
her  there  on  a  horse,  she  riding  behind  him  on  a  pillion. 

The  astonished  girl  forgot,  in  her  joy,  to  shut  the  door  as  she 
left  the  Dean's  room.  A  few  minutes  after  she  had  left  the 
house  the  Dean  ordered  another  to  saddle  a  horse  to  overtake 
the  maid  and  her  escort,  and  oblige  them  to  return  immediately. 

When  the  mortified  girl  came  into  the  Dean's  presence,  and 
begged  to  know  why  he  had  sent  for  her,  he  quietly  an- 
swered: 

"Only  to  shut  the  door  after  you;  when  you  have  done  it 
you  may  resume  your  journey." 

Sl^AMPS. 

Truth  is  greatly  aroused  over  an  incident  said  to  have  occurred 
recently.  One  of  England's  upper  ten  thousand,  who  was  vis- 
iting America,  accepted  the  hospitality  of  a  gentleman  in  New 
Yoi'k.  When  taking  farewell  of  the  host,  the  latter  asked  him 
what  he  thought  of  the  American  people. 

"  Well,"  answered  the  nobleman,  "  I  like  them  immensely, 
but  I  miss  something." 

"What  is  that.'"'  asked  the  Yankee. 

"  I  miss  the  aristocracy,"  replied  the  Englishman. 

"What  are  they?"  naively  asked  his  host. 

"The  aristocracy!"  said  the  nobleman,  in  a  somewhat  sur- 
prised tone  of  voice,  "why,  they  are  the  people  who  do  noth- 
ing, you  know;  whose  fathers  did  nothing,  you  know;  whose 
grandfathers  did  nothing,  you  know — in  fact,  the  aristocracy." 

Here  he  was  interrupted  by  the  American,  who  chimed  in 
with,  "O,  we've  plenty  of  them  over  here;  but  we  don't  call 
them  aristocracy — we  call  them  tramps!" 

Outspoken — An  open-air  address. 


428  HUMOROUS  SOU  APS. 

Spittoons  poi^  ©wo." 

At  a  club  of  which  Jerrold  was  a  member  a  fierce  Jacobite 
and  a  friend  as  fierce  of  the  cause  of  William  III.  were  argu- 
ing noisily,  and  disturbing  less  excitable  conversationalists.  At 
length  the  Jacobite,  a  brawny  Scot,  brought  his  fist  down 
heavily  upon  the  table,  and  roared  at  his  adversary:  "I  tell  you 
what  it  is,  sir — I  spit  upon  your  King  William."  The  friend 
of  the  Prince  of  Orange  was  not  to  be  outmastered  by  mere 
lungs.  He  rose  and  roared  back  to  the  Jacobite:  "And  I,  sir, 
spit  upon  your  James  II."  Jerrold,  who  had  been  listening  to 
the  uproar  in  silence,  hereupon  rang  the  bell,  and  shouted, 
"Waiter,  spittoons  for  two!" 

Spell  Potato. 

Every  boy  has  heard  of  the  way  to  spell  coffee  without  using 
one  of  the  letters  in  the  word  as  spelled  correctly — kaughy. 
Still  more  singular  is  the  new  way  of  spelling  potato,  that  illus- 
trates the  crookedness  of  English  orthography: 

Prof.  Knowlton,  of  San  Francisco,  spells  potato  "ghough- 
phtheightteeau,"  according  to  the  following  rule:  gh  stands  for 
p,  as  you'll  find  from  the  last  letters  in  hiccough;  ough  stands 
for  o,  as  in  dough;  phth  stands  for  t,  as  in  phthisis;  eigh  stands 
for  a,  as  in  neighbor;  tte  stands  for  t,  as  in  gazette,  and  eau 
stands  for  o,  as  in  beau. 

P    LUIPTLB    TOO    FAI^. 

Meeting  at  court  one  day,  Rochester,  with  mock  politeness, 
thus  accosted  Barrow,  the  witty  divine:  "Doctor,  I  am  yours 
to  my  shoe-tie."  To  which  Barrow  rejoined:  "My  lord,  I  am 
yours  to  the  ground."  Rochester  followed  with:  "Doctor,  I 
am  yours  to  the  center."  The  doctor  returned:  "My  lord,  I  am 
yours  to  the  antipodes."  Rochester,  scorning  to  be  foiled  by  a 
piece  of  musty  divinity,  as  he  termed  Barrow,  replied:  "Doc- 
tor, I  am  yours  to  the  bottomless  pit."  Whereupon  Barrow, 
turning  on  his  heel,  quietly  observed:  "There,  my  lord,  I  leave 
you." 

"Fruit  Jars,"  he  said,  as  he  looked  at  a  sign,  and  then  contin- 
ued, "Yes,  it  does,  unless  it  is  real  ripe." 


dot  schmall  leetle  baby.  429 

Dot  Sghmall  Lxeeiplb  Baby. 

Drue  as  I  leev,  most  efcry  day 
I  laugh  mc  wild  to  saw  der  vay 
My  schmall  young  baby  dries  to  blay — 
Dot  tunny  leetle  baby, 

Vhen  I  look  of  deni  leetle  toes, 
Und  see  dot  funny  leetle  nose, 
Und  hear  der  way  dot  rooster  crows, 
I  schmilc  like  I  vas  grazy. 

Somedimes  dere  comes  a  leetle  schquall; 
Dot's  vhen  der  vindy  vind  vill  crawl 
Right  in  his  leetle  schtomack  schmall. 
Dot's  too  bad  for  der  baby. 

Dot  make  him  sing  at  night  so  schveet, 
Und  gorrybarric  he  must  ead, 
Und  I  must  chump  shpry  on  my  feet 
To  help  dot  leetle  baby. 

He  bulls  my  nose  und  kicks  my  hair, 
Und  grawls  me  ofer  efery -where, 
Und  schlobbers  me — but  vot  I  care.^ 

Dot  vas  my  schmall  young  baby. 

Around  my  head  dot  leetle  arm 
Vos  schqueezin  me  so  nice  und  varm — 
O  may  dere  never  coom  some  harm 
To  dot  schmall  leetle  baby! 

"May  I  have  the  honor  to  conduct  your  daughter  to  the  sup- 
per-table?" asked  a  society  gentleman  of  a  lady  from  the  coun- 
try. "May  you  take  her  to  supper?"  was  the  reply;  "why.  of 
course;  and  you  can  take  me,  too.  That's  what  we  came  here 
for." 

A  little  boy  was  asked  by  a  lady,  the  other  day,  for  a  kiss. 
He  immediately  complied,  but  the  lady,  noticing  that  the  little 
fellow  drew  his  hand  across  his  lips,  remarked,  "Ah,  but  you 
are  rubbing  it  off."  "  No,  I  ain't,"  was  the  quick  rejoinder,  "  I'm 
rubbing  it  in." 


430  HUMOROUS  SCRAPS. 

GXGUSABLB. 

A  gentleman  in  Richmond,  Va.,  had  a  servant  named  Joe. 
One  morning  he  lay  in  bed  till  9  o'clock,  but  no  Joe  and  no  fire. 
The  impossibility  of  shaving  with  water  thirty  degrees  below 
freezing  point  brought  imprecations  on  the  tardy  domestic's 
head,  when  the  door  opened  and  Aunt  Polly  leisurely  began  to 
light  the  fire. 

"  Where  in  thunder  [the  historian  is  nothing,  if  he  is  not  ac- 
curate] is  that  son  of  yours?  I've  been  waiting  for  him  two 
blessed  hours." 

"  Now,  Marse  Trav,  you  must  'cuse  Joe,"  said  his  mother,  in 
her  most  conciliating  tones,  "you  really  must  'cuse  Joe  dis 
mornin' — Joe's  dead." 

^  ^Ai^i^OT  Am  THE  Telephone. 

Mr.  C.  E.  Kregelo,  the  undertaker,  has  a  telephone  at  his 
house  which  is  much  uSed  for  business  purposes.  Mr.  Kregelo 
has  a  parrot  which,  being  an  unusually  smart  bird  and  good 
talker,  has  picked  up  the  telephone  language.  Whenever  there 
is  a  call  the  parrot  immediately  begins  at  the  top  of  his  voice: 
"Hello,  hello!  Yes,  this  is  Kregelo's;  what  do  you  want?  This 
is  Kregelo's;  hello,  hello-,  hello!"  The  other  day  some  lad}-- 
friend  of  Mrs.  Kregelo's  called  her  upon  a  personal  matter.  As 
soon  as  the  bell  rung  the  parrot  commenced  as  usual:  "Yes, 
this  is  Kregelo's;  hello,  hello,  hello!"  etc.  Mrs.  Kregelo  could 
hardly  hear  the  other  lady  for  the  parrot's  noise.  Finally  the 
lady  said  to  Mrs.  Kregelo:  "Please  talk  one  at  a  time;  I  can't 
understand  you."  Mrs.  Ki'egelo  answered  that  there  was  only 
one  of  her — that  the  other  was  the  bird  talking.  And  all  the 
time  she  was  trying  to  explain,  the  parrot  kept  screaming: 
"This  is  Kregelo's!  this  is  Kregelo's!  what  do  you  want?  hello, 
hello!"  Mrs.  Kregelo  could  hardly  get  in  a  word  edgeways, 
and  the  bird  was  evidently  elated  at  leading  in  the  conversation. 

The  more  education  we  have  the  narrower  becomes  the  mar- 
gin of  men  subject  to  jury  service.  Viewing  it  from  this  stand- 
point, the  few  remaining  illiterates  ought  to  be  well  taken  care 
of  lest  all  material  for  jurors  may  be  lost,  and  murderers  and 
other  criminals  be  turned  loose  from  an  inability  to  try  them. 


WILL  YOU  TAKE  A  SBEEPf  431 

tOiLL  you  (9AI^B   A  SHBBP? 

An  old  fanner,  about  the  time  that  the  temperance  reform 
was  beginning  to  exert  a  healthful  influence  in  the  country,  said 
to  his  hired  man:  "Jonathan,  I  did  not  think  to  mention  to  you, 
when  I  hired  you,  that  I  think  of  trying  to  do  my  work  this 
year  without  rum.  How  much  more  must  I  give  you  to  induce 
you  to  do  without?" 

"O,  I  don't  care  much  about  it,"  said  Jonathan,  "you  may 
give  me  what  you  please." 

"Well,"  said  the  farmer,  "I  will  give  you  a  sheep  in  the  fall 
if  you  will  do  without.'*" 

"Agreed,"  said  Jonathan. 

The  oldest  son  then  said:  "Father,  will  you  give  me  a  sheep, 
too,  if  I  do  without?" 

"Yes,  Marshall,  you  shall  have  a  sheep,  too,  if  you  do  with- 
out." 

The  youngest  son,  a  stripling,  then  said;  "Father,  will  you 
give  me  a  sheep  if  I  will  do  without?" 

"Yes,  Chandler,  you  shall  have  a  sheep,  also,  if  you  will  do 
without  rum." 

Presently  Chandler  spoke  again:  "Father,  hadn't  you  better 
take  a  sheep,  too?" 

A  little  boy  watched  a  bee  crawling  on  his  hand  till  it  stopped 
and  stung  him,  when  he  said:  "  I  did  not  mind  it  walking  about, 
but  when  it  sat  down  it  hurt  awful,  so  it  did!" 

"What  is  the  chief  use  of  bread?"  asked  an  examiner  at  a 
school  exhibition.  "The  chief  use  of  bread,"  answered  the 
urchin,  apparently  astonished  at  the  simplicity  of  the  inquiry, 
"  why,  to  spread  butter  and  molasses  on." 

A  little  girl,  aged  nine,  called  her  father  to  her  bedside  the 
other  evening:  "Papa,"  said  his  little  diplomate,  "  I  want  to  ask 
your  advice."  "Well,  my  dear,  what  is  it  about?"  "What  do 
you  think  it  will  be  best  to  give  me  on  my  birthday?  " 

A  school  committee  not  over  a  thousand  miles  from  "the 
Hub,"  in  making  some  remarks  at  the  close  of  an  examination 
of  a  school,  thus  complimented  and  criticised  the  scholars: 
"  You  read  well,  and  you  spell  well,  but  you  hain't  sot  still." 


432  HUMOROUS  SCRAPS. 

It  doesn't  speak  much  for  the  size  of  a  man's  mind  when  it 
takes  him  only  a  minute  to  make  it  up. 

A  httle  girl  was  told  that  she  must  not  go  to  the  currant- 
bushes — that  the  currants  would  make  her  sick.  She  said  that 
she  did  not  mean  to,  but  Satan  tempted  her.  "Why  didn't  you 
pray,  'Get  thee  behind  me,  Satan?'"  "I  did,"  was  the  reply; 
"and  he  got  right  behind  me  and  pushed  me  into  the  bushes." 

A  little  shaver  was  told  by  his  mother  the  other  evening,  at 
the  table,  that  he  could  not  have  any  meat,  as  it  was  not  good 
for  him,  when  he  somewhat  astonished  her  by  quoting  a  verse 
from  a  Sunday-school  lesson  that  "  man  could  not  live  by  bread 
alone,"  and  added:  "Now,  ma,  I  don't  think  little  boys  can 
either." 

A  reverend  gentleman  was  addressing  a  school  concert  re- 
cently, and  was  trying  to  enforce  the  doctrine  that  the  hearts  of 
the  little  ones  were  sinful  and  need  regulating.  Taking  out  his 
watch,  and  holding  it  up,  he  said:  "Now,  here's  my  watch. 
Suppose  it  don't  keep  good  time — now  goes  too  fast  and  now 
too  slow — what  shall  I  do  with  it?  "  "  Sell  it!  "  shouted  a  flax- 
en-headed youngster. 

"Grandpa,"  said  an  intelligent  little  fellow,  "who  made  those 
great  ditches  in  your  forehead?"  "God,  my  dear."  "What 
did  he  make  them  for?"  "I  don't  know,  Willie.  Don't  ask 
silly  questions."  Willie  was  thoughtful  for  a  few  moments,  and 
then  said:  "  I  know  now!  Father  can  tell  how  old  his  cows  are 
by  the  wrinkles  on  their  horns.  Is  that  what  God  put  wrinkles 
on  your  brow  for,  grandpa?" 

Mr.  Cable,  the  New  Orleans  author,  immortalized  himself 
anew  at  a  Sunday-school  concert  in  the  Massachusetts  town  of 
Monson,  the  other  day,  which  he  attended  in  company  with  his 
friend,  Mr,  Roswell  Smith,  of  the  Century.  "  I  have  so  many 
children  at.  home,"  said  he,  raising  his  hand  and  spreading  out 
the  fingers.  "How  many  is  that?"  "Five,"  piped  up  a  young- 
ster. "And  half  of  them  are  girls,"  continued  Mr.  Cable. 
"How  much  is  half  of  five?"  "Two  and  a-half,"  reproach- 
fully replied  a  Httle  miss.  "Yes,"  said  the  novelist,  "two  and  a 
half  of  them  are  girls,  and  the  other  two  and  a-half,  too — five 
girls." 


PARDON  GRANTED.  433 

©HBII^  flGI^BBMBNip. 

Mrs.  Harper  told  her  four  children  of  a  poor  woman  who 
had  lost  her  husband,  and  had  five  children,  but  nothing  to  live 
on.     All  the  little  Harpers  were  very  sorry. 

"How  can  we  help?"  said  Janie,  the  eldest.  "We  have  no 
money  at  all." 

Mrs.  Harper  smiled  and  said:  "No,  you  have  no  money;  but 
if  you  would  like  to  give  up  some  of  your  pleasures,  you  could 
earn  some." 

"How,  mother?" 

"  You  might  give  up  having  sugar  in  your  tea,  for  one  thing." 

"But  it's  so  nasty  without,  mother." 

"  Well,  perhaps  you  can  think  of  something  else.  All  of 
you  go  into  the  garden  for  half  an  hour,  and  come  and  tell  me 
what  you  agree  to  give  up." 

Off  ran  Janie,  and  Harry,  and  Sybil,  and  wee  Johnnie,  hand 
in  hand,  and  walked  solemnly  round  the  garden  for  just  half  an 
hour.  When  the  clock  struck  twelve  they  ran  in  again,  helter- 
skelter. 

"Well?"^aid  the  mother.    Janie  spoke: 

"We've  thought  of  every  thing  all  round,  mother,  and,  if 
you  please,  we  should  like  to  give  up  our  lessons!"  ^But  that 
mother  could  not  agree  to. 

How  is  that  for  generosity  and  self-sacrifice? 

^AI^DON   Gl^ANTBD. 

One  day,  in  suddenly  turning  the  corner  of  a  street,  a  young 
lady  ran  against  a  little  ragged  boy,  and  almost  knocked  him 
down.  Stopping  as  soon  as  she  could,  she  turned  and  said  very 
kindly  to  the  boy,  "I  beg  your  pardon,  my  little  fellow;  I  am 
very  sorry  that  I  ran  against  you."  The  poor  boy  was  aston- 
ished. He  looked  at  her  for  a  moment  with  surprise,  and  then 
taking  off  his  cap  and  bowing  very  low,  he  said,  while  a  smile 
spread  itself  all  over  his  face,  "  You  can  hev  my  parding  and 
welcome,  miss,  and  the  next  time  you  kin  run  agin  me  and 
knock  me  down,  and  I  won't  say  a  word."  After  the  lady 
passed  on  he  turned  to  his  companion  and  said,  "I  say,  Jim;  it's 
the  first  time  I  ever  had  any  one  to  ask  my  parding,  and  it  kind 
o'  took  me  off  my  feet." 
28 


434  HUMOROUS  SCRAPS. 

Emotional  insanity  has  never  yet  caused  a  victim  to  put  his 
hand  in  his  pocket,  and  pay  an  outlawed  debt. 

A  scientist  asserts  that  a  bee  can  only  sting  once  in  two  min- 
utes. We  would  respectfully  add  that  that's  all  it  generally 
needs  to. 

"Husband,  I  don't  know  where  that  boy  got  his  bad  temper; 
I'm  sure  not  from  me."  "No,  my  dear,  for  I  don't  find  that 
you  have  lost  any." 

"Siam  is  the  place  where  there  are  neither  Jews  nor  swine," 
said  a  person  to  a  Rothschild  once.  "  Indeed,"  was  the  reply. 
"Let  us  go  and  exhibit  ourselves  there." 

"Dogs  are  not  admitted  here,"  said  the  sexton.  "That's  not 
my  dog,"  responded  Gilhooly."  " But  he  follows  you."  "Well, 
so  do  you."  The  sexton  growled,  and  removed  the  animal 
with  unnecessary  violence. 

A  young  merchant,  who  had  a  few  thousand  dollars  to  spare, 
called  upon  a  college  friend  who  was  a  broker  in  Wall  street. 
"What  do  you  advise  me  to  do?"  he  asked.  "I'll  tell  you, 
Fred,"  replied  the  broker,  confidentially,  "  there's  a  tailor's  shop 
in  a  basement  round  the  corner.  Now  you  skip  down  there, 
get  your  pockets  sewed  up,  and  leave  Wall  street  as  fast  as  you 
can." 

In  one  of  the  courts,  a  few  days  since,  a  man  was  testifying 
regarding  his  connection  with  a  case  where  offers  had  been 
made  him  to  beat  a  man,  but  he  declined  the  job.  With  great 
solemnity  the  counsel  asked,  as  if  anticipating  a  high  moral 
reason  for  his  refusal,  why  the  witness  did  not  commit  the  as- 
sault. "Well,  sir,"  was  the  candid  reply,  "I'm  a  little  lame, 
and  I  was  afraid  the  police  would  catch  me.' 

Not  long  since  a  New  Hampshire  committeeman  was  examin- 
ing an  infant-school  class.  "  Can  any  little  girl  or  boy  give  the 
definition  of  the  word  'average?'  he  asked.  For  some  time  no 
one  replied,  but  finally  a  little  girl  hesitatingly  replied,  "It  is  a 
thing  a  hen  lays  an  egg  on,  sir."  "No,  that's  not  right."  "Yes, 
sir;  my  book  says  so;"  and  she  trotted  up  to  her  questioner  and 
pointed  to  this  sentence  in  her  reading-book:  "A  hen  lays  an 
egg  every  day  on  an  average.'" 


LITERAL  OBEDIENCE.  485 

IJIIPEI^AL  03EDIBN6E. 

The  printer's  rule  is,  "Follow  copy,  if  it  goes  out  of  the 
window."  The  motto  of  the  sea  bids  the  ship-master  to  "obey 
orders,  if  you  break  owners." 

But  there  is  no  rule  without  an  exception,  as  one  of  Cole- 
ridge's schoolmates  found  out  to  his  sorrow,  when  he  was 
flogged  for  obeying  the  teacher's  command  too  literally. 

The  teacher  was  Dr.  Boyer,  a  rigid  disciplinarian,  who  estab- 
lished stern  rules  and  had  no  charity  for  boys  who  violated 
them,  either  from  forgetfulness  or  from  willfulness. 

He  had  an  antipathy  to  nicknames,  and  had  been  fretted  be- 
cause the  boys  would  persist  in  calling  one  Simon  Jennings,  an 
unpopular  student  and  a  minister's  son,  Pontius  Pilate.  He  or- 
dered them  sternly  never  to  say  Pontius  Pilate,  but  always 
Simon  Jennings,  or  they  would  suffer  for  it. 

One  day  a  class  was  reciting  the  catechism.  The  Apostles' 
Creed  fell  to  a  boy  noted  for  dullness.  He  droned  along  care- 
lessly to  "  suffered  under,"  and  was  about  to  ^add  "  Pontius  Pi- 
late," when  suddenly  the  threat  of  the  master  and  the  sure  pen- 
alty flashed  on  him.  Thankful  that  his  memory  had  acted  so 
promptly,  he  added,  with  energy,  "  under  Simon  Jennings,  and 
was  crucified." 

Down  came  the  merciless  cane  of  Dr.  Boyer  on  head  and 
shoulders,  and  when  he  could  find  breath  he  cried  in  anger, 
"What  do  you  mean,  sir?" 

The  boy,  astonished  at  the  sudden  flogging,  said  crustily, 
"You  ordered  us,  sir,  to  say  Simon  Jennings  instead  of  Pontius 
Pilate,  or  we  should  be  whipped,"  and  appealed  to  the  class  if 
it  were  not  so. 

Dr.  Boyer  was  silenced.  He  had  flogged  the  boy  for  too  lit- 
eral obedience. 

Many  good  stories  are  told  of  the  university  career  of  C.  S. 
Calverly,  the  English  poet,  who  died  recently.  While  at  Ox- 
ford the  master  of  his  college  summoned  him  one  day,  and  said 
severely,  "I  don't  know,  Mr.  Calverly,  how  it  happens,  but 
whenever  I  look  out  of  the  window  I  see  you  jumping  over  that 
wall."  "Well,  master,"  replied  the  youth,  "it  certainly  has 
often  struck  me  as  odd  that  whenever  I  jump  over  that  wall  I 
see  you  looking  out  of  the  window." 


436  HUMOROUS  SCRAPS. 

The  young  lady  who  made  seven  hundred  words  out  of  "  con- 
servatory "  last  autumn,  has  run  away  from  home.  Her  mother 
wanted  her  to  make  three  loaves  of  bread  out  of  "flour." 

The  train  stops;  an  employee  announces  the  name  of  the 
station  in  a  voice  which  is  completely  unintelligible.  "  Speak 
more  distinctly,"  says  a  traveler;  "we  can't  understand  a  word 
you  say."  "  Do  you  expect  to  have  tenors  for  eighteen  dollars 
a  month?"  growls  the  i-ailroad  employee. - 

A  malicious  boy  created  a  panic  in  a  Montreal  hotel,  one  day 
recently,  by  thrusting  his  head  into  the  dining-room  and  calling 
out,  "Here  comes  an  officer  from  New  York  .with  a  warrant." 
It  was  several  hours  before  some  of  the  most  nervous  guests 
could  be  persuaded  to  come  out  of  the  woods  and  I'eturn  to 
their  meal. 

A  traveler  in  England  writes  from  the  celebrated  Mugby 
Junction  (Rugby),  satirized  by  Dickens,  that  the  railway  re- 
freshments are  as  bad  as  ever  they  could  have  been.  While 
flirting  with  the  barmaid  at  the  station  he  wrote  his  name,  with 
date,  on  the  lid  of  a  pork-pie.  Three  months  after,  coming  that 
way,  he  saw  the  autograph  still  there  on  the  same  refreshment. 

Sunday  before  last,  communion  services  were  held  in  the 
Presbyterian  church,  and  therefore  the  Sunday-school  hour  was 
changed  from  12  to  3  o'clock.  At  dinner  that  day  a  little  boy 
asked,  "Why  does  leap-Sunday  come  so  often?"  "What  do 
you  mean?  there  is  no  such  thing  as  leap- Sunday,"  said  the  fa- 
ther. "Why,  yes  there  is;  this  is  leap-Sunday,  because  the  Sun- 
day-school leaps  over  until  after  dinner."     The  father  caved. 

t 
The  "Mother  Hubbard"  dress  provokes  Benjamin  F.  Taylor 

to  say,  in  the  N.  Y.  Examiner:  "  Unbelted,  hanging  from  the 
shoulders  like  a  collapsed  umbrella,  'gathered' just  under  the 
arms,  twisting  about  the  wearer  in  the  wind  like  a  flag  around 
the  staff,  swelling  like  a  sail,  shrinking  like  a  shriveled  husk  to 
the  shape,  these  garments  have  no  parallel  except  among  the 
islanders  of  the  South  Sea,  where  the  belles  weave  a  big  door- 
mat, make  a  hole  in  it,  thrust  their  heads  through  it,  and  are 
ready  for  a  promenade  along  the  coral  strand." 


A  CHILD'S  REVENGE.  487 

f!  (Child's  F{byengb. 

Two  young  ladies  were  talking  and  laughing  in  a  well-filled 
Chestnut-street  car  yesterday  afternoon,  and  a  little  girl,  three 
years  old,  perhaps,  eyed  them  with  wonder  from  the  opposite 
side.  Finally  she  concluded  that  they  were  laughing  at  her, 
and  she  turned *to  her  father,  as  if  to  ask  his  protection.  He 
was  paying  no  attention,  and  she  decided  to  take  her  own  part. 

"What  are  you  laughing  at?"  she  asked,  reproachfully,  of 
one  of  thci^adies.  Everybody  smiled  at  this,  and  the  ladies 
laughed  aloud. 

"  Husji,,my  child,"  said  the  father. 
-     "But  what  is  she  laughin'  at,  pa?" 

"  Keep  still.     Everybody  will  laugh  at  you  if  you  don't." 

"Well,  you  make  her  stop  laughin'.  If  you  don't,  I'll  laugh 
back  at  her." 

Here  a  titter  ran  through  the  car,  and  the  two  mirthful  young 
ladies  could  not  restrain  themselves.  They  laughed  heartily, 
and  the  child  stared  at  them  as  if  about  to  cry.  But  presently 
her  face  changed  to  pure  astonishment,  and  she  gazed  at  one 
of  the  ladies  as  if  she  was  a  show.  She  seemed  to  be  trying  to 
see  down  her  throat.  "Look,  pa,  look!"  she  exclaimed,  point- 
ing. Everybody  did  look,  and  the  young  lady  ceased  laughing 
and  closed  her  lips  tightly. 

"Did  you  see,  pa?" 

"Hush!" 

"Did  you  see  in  her  mouf?" 

"Hush,  I  tell  you!" 

"  She  ain't  got  hardly  any  teeth  back  there." 

The  young  lady  blushed  crimson,  and  the  father  seized  his 
child  and  hurried  from  the  car.  No  sound  of  laughter  was 
heard  after  this. 

A  teacher  asked  a  little  girl,  "  Who  was  the  first  man? "  She 
said  she  did  not  know.  He  then  asked  an  Irish  girl,  who,  look- 
ing very  proud  at  being  able  to  give  the  answer,  said,  "Adam, 
sir."  "You  need  not  look  so  grand  about  it,"  said  the  first 
scholar,  "he  wasn't  an  Irishman." 

A  mine  is  a  pit  in  which  rich  me«  may  sink  fortunes,  and  the 
most  successful  miner  is  one  who  makes  them  do  it. 


438  HUMOEOUS  SCRAPS. 

I^ADN'T  ANY  Objection. 

The  author  of  St.  Twel'mo,  noted  for  his  love  of  a  practical 
joke  and  a  slight  impediment  in  his  speech,  was  "on  duty"  at 
the  fair  of  the  American  Institute,  and,  finding  a  convenient 
point  of  rest  behind  a  pyramid  of  paste  blacking,  w^ent  quietly 
to  wrork  to  w^rite  up  his  notes.  He  had  just  completed  a  glow- 
ing eulogium  on  the  merits  of  a  patent  bean-sifter,  when  he  was 
interrupted  by  a  tall  countryman,  who  asked:  "  Haow  do  you 
sell  yer  blackin',  mister?" 

"  I  d-d-don't  sell  it,"  said  the  absoi^bed  writer. 

"Don't  gin  it  away,  du  ye?"  said  the  querist,  handling  a  box 
covetously. 

"  I  ha-ha-haven't  g-g-given  away  any  yet,"  replied  the  still 
busy  knight  of  the  pencil. 

"Hain't  got  any  objections  to  my  takin'  a  box,  have  ye?" 
persisted  the  torment. 

"N-n-not  the  1-1-least  in  the  world,"  said  the  now  thoroughly 
aroused  joker,  calmy  closing  his  book,  and  beaming  blandly 
upon  the  interrogator. 

The  countryman  immediately  seized  upon  a  box  of  the  polish; 
a  sharp  boy  standing  near  followed  his  example;  the  news  of 
free  blacking  spread  among  other  sharp  boys,  and  the  pyramid 
of  blacking  was  soon  reduced  to  a  plain,  when  the  newspaper 
man  was  overtaken  a  little  distance  further  in  -the  hall  by  the 
blacking-dealer,  irate  and  red-faced,  with  two  policemen,  who 
had  the  original  offender  and  a  half-dozen  boys  in  custody. 

"What  the  blazes  do  you  mean,"  said  the  man  of  polish,  in 
any  thing  but  polished  language,  "  by  setting  people  to  steal  my 
blacking?" 

"M-m-y  d-dear  sir,"  said  the  paragrapher,  urbanely,  "the 
g-g-gentleman  asked  me  if  I  ha-ha-had  any  objections  to  his 
t-t-taking  a  box  of  the  blacking,  and  I  hadn't  any  objections  at 
all,  and  I  d-d-don't  know  why  I  should  have."  And  he  walked 
quietly  on  in  pursuit  of  his  labors,  leaving  Messrs.  Day  &  Mar- 
tin to  charge  a  gross  of  paste  blacking  to  profit  and  loss. 

A  newly-married  lady  was  telling  another  how  nicely  her 
husband  could  write.  "  O  you  should  see  some  of  his  love- 
letters!"  "Yes,  I  know,"  was  the  freezing  reply;  "I've  got 
ever  §o  many  of  'em  in  my  desk." 


HE  WAS  ENGAGED.  439 

alOI^ING    IPHB   DOGJPOI^. 

A  few  nights  since,  the  speaking-tube  at  the  office-door  of 
one  of  New  Haven's  popular  physicians  was  used  by  some 
midnight  wag,  to  the  following:  The  doctor  was  in  a  sound 
sleep,  when  he  was  partially  awakened  by  a  "halloo"  through 
the  tube,  when  the  following  dialogue  took  place: 

"Well,  what  do  you  want?" 

"Does  Dr.  Jones  live  here?" 

"Yes;  what  do  you  want?" 

"Are  you  Dr.  Jones?  " 

"Yes." 

"Dr.  Simon  Jones?" 

"Yes,  yes;  what  do  you  want?" 

"Why,  how  long  have  you  lived  here?" 

"Some  twenty  years;  why?" 

"Why? — why  don't  you  move?" 

"  Tf  you  stay  there  about  ten  seconds  more  you'll  find  I'm 
moving! " 

And  he  bounded  out  of  bed,  but  the  patient  was  heard  "  mov- 
ing "  down  the  street  at  a  rate  that  defied  pursuit 

r^B    WAS   CNGAGBD. 

"So  you  want  a  situation  as  a  conductor,  do  you?"  said  the 
president  of  tlie  road. 

"Yes,  sir,"  the  applicant  replied. 

"  Well,  suppose  your  train  should  meet  with  a  serious  disas- 
ter, in  which  a  number  of  passengers  should  be  killed  and  a 
large  amount  of  property  destroyed,  what  action  would  you 
take  in  that  case? " 

"  I  would  telegraph  to  the  newspapers  that  the  accident  was 
of  little  importance,  and  then  send  word  to  the  president  of  the 
road  to  sell  the  stock  short." 

"H'm,"  replied  the  president,  "I'm  afraid  those  are  not  the 
proper  qualifications  for  a  good  conductor;  but  you  are  a  man 
of  ability,  I  see.  We  want  a  first-class  superintendent.  You 
can  consider  yourself  engaged  as  superintendent  of  the  road,  at 
a  salary  of  ten  thousand  dollars  a  year." 

Why  is  the  Mediterranean  the  dirtiest  of  seas?  Because  it  is 
the  least  tidy. 


440  HUMOROUS  SCRAPS. 

fl   ©OUGH   SiFOI^Y. 

Squire   K ,  a  well  known   bai'rister  of  Belknap,  having 

occasion  to  transact  some  business  at  the  Ossipee  Court,  found 
a  few  days  at  his  disposal  which  he  determined  to  spend  in 
trouting  in  the  mountain  brooks.  In  company  with  an  artist 
friend,  he  wandered  several  miles  in  the  country.  Night  came 
down,  and  the  sportsmen  concluded  to  spend  the  night  at  a 
farm-house,  if  permission  could  be  obtained,  and  return  early 
next  morning  to  the  village.  A  cheery-faced  old  lady  granted 
permission  to  remain  under  her  roof  that  night.  Now,  as  it  was 
necessary  that  our  legal  friend  should  be  at  court  at  8  o'clock 
next  day,  the  good  dame  arose  early  and  prepared  breakfast  by 
the  light  of  a  tallow-candle.  The  anglers  were  seated  at  the 
table  in  a  dark  corner  of  the  kitchen,  while  the  old  lady  was 
engaged    over  a  sizzling  frying-pan   on   the   stove.       "  How's 

this  steak,  T ?  tough,  hey.'"'  asked  the   lawyer,  sotto  voce. 

"Don't  know;  why?"  "By  Jove,  I  can't  chew  the  stuff!" 
continued  he.  Wiping  the  sweat  from  his  forehead,  he  made 
another  effort  to  masticate  the  mouthful,  then  shouted:  "My 
good  woman,  will  you  be  kind  enough  to  see  why  this  steak  is 
so  very  tough?"  The  pleasant-faced  old  lady  appeared  with 
her  candle,  wiped  the  moisture  from  her  spectacles,  and  looked 
at  the  plate;  she  dropped  the  tallow-candle  into  the  lawyer's 
lap,  and  shouted  with  horror:  "  Great  State  of  New  Hamp- 
shire! I've  fried  my  holder!" 

fl   CQAI^I^IED  ?3t50MAN'S  fiDYANTAGES. 

"Are  you  as  happy  now  as  you  were  before  you  were  mar- 
ried?" asked  Mrs.  Yeast  of  young  Mrs.  Crimsonbeak. 

"Yes,  indeed,"  replied  the  lady;  "and  a  great  deal  happier." 

"That  is  strange,"  suggested  the  philanthropist's  wife. 

"  Not  at  all  strange,"  came  from  the  young  married  woman. 
"You  see,  before  I  was  married  I  used  to  spend  half  my  time 
worrying  about  what  dress  I  should  wear  when  Daniel  called." 

"But  don't  you  try  just  as  hard  to  look  well  when  your  hus- 
band returns  home  at  night?"  interrupted  Mrs.  Yeast. 

"Well,  you  see,"  went  on  the  bride  of  two  summers,  "I 
don't  worry  any  about  it  now,  as  I  have  only  one  dress  to  my 
name." 


breaking  it  gently.  441 

Song  op  jphb  JIll-wool  Shu^jp. 

My  father  bought  an  undershirt, 
Of  bright  and  flaming  red^ — 
"All  wool,  I'm  ready  to  assert, 

Fleece-dyed,"  the  merchant  said. 
"Your  size  is  thirty-eight,  I  think; 
A  forty  you  should  get, 
Since  all-wool  goods  are  bound  to  shrink 
A  trifle  when  they're  wet." 

That  shirt  two  weeks  my  father  wore — 

Two  washings,  that  was  all — 
From  forty  down  to  thirty-four 

It  shrank  like  leaf  in  fall. 
I  wore  it  then  a  day  or  two, 

But  when  'twas  washed  again. 
My  wife  said,  "Now  'twill  only  do 

For  little  brother  Ben." 

A  fortnight  Ben  squeezed  into  it, 

At  last  he  said  it  hurt; 
We  put  it  on  our  babe — the  fit 

Was  good  as  any  shirt. 
We  ne'er  will  wash  it  more  while  yet 

We  see  its  flickering  light, 
For  if  again  that  shirt  is  wet, 

'Twill  vanish  from  our  sight. 

Bl^BAI^ING  m  Gbntly. 

Young  wife:  " My  dear,  you  were  the  stroke-oar  at  college, 
weren't  you?" 

Young  husband:  "Yes,  love." 

"And  a  very  prominent  member  of  the  gymnastic  class?" 

"I  was  the  leader." 

"And  quite  a  hand  at  all  athletic  exercises?"- 

"Qtiite  a  hand?  My  gracious!  I  was  the  champion  walker, 
the  best  runner,  the  head  man  at  lifting  heavy  weights,  and  as 
for  carrying!     Why,  I  could  shoulder  a  barrel  of  flour  and — " 

"  Well,  love,  just  please  carry  the  baby  a  couple  of  hours;  I'm 
tired." 


442  HUMOROUS  SCRAPS. 

Stf^etghy  FJbligion. 

An  old  couple,  man  and  wife,  were  once  seen  walking  along 
the  wharves,  hunting  for  an  up-shore  boat,  and  the  woman  ex- 
plained to  a  steamboat  agent: 

"  It's  a  very  stormy  season,  and  we  expect  to  be  seasick,  and 
we  druther  go  on  a  boat  where  the  captain  is  a  religious  man." 

"  Well,  that's  all  right,"  he  replied.  "  We've  got  one  very 
religious  captain  on  our  line,  and  his  boat  sails  to,-night." 

"Can  we  go  down  and  see  him?" 

"O  yes.     Keep  right  down  the  street  until  you  see  the  boat." 

The  couple  walked  on,  and  finally  boarded  the  steamer. 
The  captain  and  all  hands  were  busy  with  cargo;  but  the  old 
folks  walked  up  to  him,  and  the  woman  said,  "  Capting,  you 
have  been  recommended  to  us  as  a  religious  man." 

"The I  have!"  he  promptly  growled. 

They  looked  at  each  other  with  consternation  depicted  in 
their  faces,  and  then  the  old  man  said: 

"Capting,  what  Church  do  you  belong  to?" 

"  See  here,"  roared  the  official,  "  if  you''ve  come  to  bleed  me 
for  a  charity,  or  want  me  to  sign  a  petition,  or  expect  this  boat 
to  carry  a  lot  of  dead-heads  up  the  lake,  I  won't  stand  it! 
What  do  you  want?  Out  with  it  now,  and  no  infernal  chawing 
around.  I'm  blanked  if  I  ain't  bothered  by  more  dashed  luna- 
tics than  any  other  blanked  man  on  the  dashed  lakes." 

Man  and  wife  retired  to  consult,  and  after  getting  ten  feel 
away  the  woman  said:  "Henry,  he's  not  a  religious  man." 

"Well,  I  dunno." 

"  But  he  swears  like  a  pirate." 

"Yes,  Maria,  but  you  see  this  is  out  West.  We  don't  swear 
and  belong  to. the  Church,  too,  up  in  New  Hampshire,  but  they 
may  do  different  out  here.  He  swears,  but  he  looks  like  a  man 
to  depend  upon  in  a  storm." 

"  Sha'n't  we  look  for  another?" 

"  I  guess  not,. Maria.  I  guess  the  religions  out  here  in  Mich- 
igan are  kind  o'  stretchy,  and  they  'low  swearing  on  the  steam- 
boats and  around  the  depots.  We'll  go  by  this  boat,  and  if  he 
don't  swear  any  harder  than  he  did  to  us,  mebbe  Providence 
will  let  him  squeeze  through  on  the  up-trip  and  sink  him  when 
he  comes  down." 


BEADY  TO  TAKE  A  PART  443 

fl   LCOI^D   JPHEY   REYBI^   IJEAI^D  OP. 

Grant  Thorburn — "Laurie  Todd" — is  responsible  for  the  fol- 
lowing: 

In  1774  Dr.  Webster  was  a  popular  preacher  of  the  Kirk  of 
Scotland  in  Edinburgh.  Business  brought  him  to  London,  and 
one  day  when  passing  the  House  of  Lords  his  curiosity  induced 
him  to  make  an  efTdrt  to  step  in  and  see  them.  None  were  ad- 
mitted without  an  Order,  except  noblemen's  servants.  Webster, 
being  ignorant  of  the  rule,  requested  admittance. 

"What  lord  do  you  belong  to? "  said  the  door-keeper. 

"  To  the  Lord  Jehovah,"  replied  Webster. 

"The  Lord  Jehovah!"  repeated  the  keeper.  "I  have  kept 
here  seven  years,  but  I  have  never  heard  of  such  a  Lord. 
Jack,"  said  he  to  his  fellow-keeper  on  the  front-steps,  "  here's  a 
chap  who  says  he  belongs  to  the  Lord  Jehovah;  do  you  know 
such  a  Lord? " 

"  Never  heard  of  him,"  says  Jack. 

"  But,"  says  Webster,  willing  to  keep  up  the  illusion,  "  there 
is  such  a  Lord." 

"  Pass  Mm  in,"  said  Jack,  "  I  s'pose  it's  some  poor  Scotch 
lord."  » 

This  occurred  at  a  period  when  there  was  not  one  in  twenty 
in  all  the  manufacturing  and  rural  districts  in  England  who 
could  read  the  Bible  or  write  his  own  name.  Sabbath-schools 
were  introduced  in  1783. 

rjBADY   TO  ©AI^B  A  ^AF^T. 

An  old,  weather-beaten  trapper  was  sauntering  along  the 
main-street  of  one  of  our  Western  villages  on  a  recent  Sunday, 
Pausing  in  front  of  a  meeting-house  fdr  a  moment,  he  went  in 
and  took  his  seat  among  the  congregation.  The  preacher  was 
discoursing  on  the  text  of  "  the  sheep  and  the  wolves,"  and  had 
evidently  been  drawing  a  contrast  between  the  two  subjects. 
Said  he:  "We  who  assemble  here  from  week  to  week,  and  do 
our  duty,  and  perform  our  part,  are  the  sheep;  now,  who,  then, 
are  the  wolves?"  A  pause,  and  our  friend  the  trapper  rose  to 
his  feet.  "Waal,  stranger,  rather  than  see  the  play  stopped  I 
will  be  the  wolves."  The  preacher  pronounced  the  benediction 
at  once. 


444  humorous  scraps. 

That's  in  a  Hamb? 

In  an  Eastern  town  thei-e  is  a  woman  who  is  extremely  deaf, 
and  her  affliction  has  caused  an  extremely  unpleasant  mistake, 
of  which  her  infant  child  is  the  victim.  She  took  the  babe  to 
church  in  due  time  to  have  him  baptized.  While  she  was 
waiting  in  the  vestibule  she  thought  she  would  keep  him  quiet 
by  feeding  him  from  a  bottle  of  milk.  While  the  child  was 
still  taking  his  sustenance  the  mother  was  summoned  to  the 
church  with  the  announcement  that  the  minister  was  ready.  In 
her  agitation  she  drew  the  bottle  from  the  babe's  mouth  hur- 
riedly, when  the  gum  nozzle  came  off,  and  a  part  of  the  milk 
was  spilled  on  the  child's  new  clothes.  When  the  clergyman 
took  the  child  in  his  arms  he  looked  down  at  it,  and  asked  the 
mother  what  name  should  be  given  it.  She,  with  her  mind 
troubled  about  the  accident,  thought  he  was  asking  how  the 
clothes  became  soiled;  so  she  answered: 

"Nozzle  came  off." 

Rather  surprised,  he  again  asked,  for  the  name,  and  she,  think- 
ing he  did  not  understand  her,  bawled  out: 

"Nozzle  came  off,  I  say!" 

Whereupon  the  astonished  divine  poured  water  on  the  child's 
head,  and  said: 

"  Nozzle-came-off  Ferguson,  I  baptize  thee,"  etc. 

What  this  woman  wants  to  know  is  whether  the  Legislature 
or  something  can't  have  that  child's  name  changed  to  Henr}-,  or 
Lucullus,  or  William,  or  some  other  euphonious  appellation. 

Lord  Seaforth,  who  was  born  deaf  and  dumb,  was  to  dine 
one  day  with  Lord  Melville.  Just  before  the  time  of  the  com- 
pany's arrival,  Lady  Melville  sent  into  the  drawing-room  a  lady 
of  her  acquaintance,  who  could  talk  with  her  fingers  to  dumb 
people,  that  she  might  receive  Lord  Seaforth.  Presently  Lord 
Guilford  entered  the  room,  and  the  lad^',  taking  him  for  Lord 
Seaforth,  began  to  ply  her  fingers  very  nimbly.  Lord  Guilford 
did  the  same,  and  they  had  been  carrying  on  a  conversation  in 
this  manner  for  about  ten  minutes  when  Lady  Melville  joined. 
Her  female  friend  immediately  said,  "Well,  I  have  been  talking 
away  to  this  dumb  man."  "  Dumb ! "  cried  Lord  Guilford ;  "  bless 
me,  1  thought  you  were  dumb!" 


A  DUTCHMAN'S  LECTURE.  446 

©HE  Swo  Deacons. 

A  long  time  ago  a  minister  who  had  two  deacons  in  his  con- 
gregation, given  to  sinful  ways,  preached  a  very  practical  ser- 
mon, but  without  thinking  of  them.  During  the  delivery  of  his 
discourse  he  took  occasion  to  say,  "  Liar,  stand  on  your  feet," 
and,  to  his  amazement,  one  of  the  deacons  stood  up  and  re- 
mained standing  until  the  exhortation  was  concluded.  It  so 
happened  that  the  next  paragraph  commenced  "with  these 
words:  "Let  those  addicted  to  double-dealing  stand  forth." 
The  deacon  who  had  already  arisen  looked  over  to  the  other 
deacon,  and  whispered,  "You  had  better  get  up;  I  did." 

"Stigi^  im  the  Fbathei^." 

The  pioneer  Methodist,  Peter  Cartwright,  uttered  many  odd 
and  witty  sayings.  He  was  often  much  annoyed  at  one  sister, 
more  noisy  than  pious,  who  would  get  off  on  a  high  key  at 
every  opportunity.  At  an  animated  class-meeting,  one  day,  she 
broke  out  with,  "  If  I  had  one  more  feather  in  the  wing  of  my 
faith,  I  could  fly  away  and  be  with  the  Saviour."  "  Stick  in  the 
feather,  O  Lord,  and  let  her  go!"  fervently  responded  Brother 
Cartwright. 

fl   DUTGHMAN'S  LiEGTUI^B. 

"I  sail  tell  how  it  vas:  I  drunk  mine  lager;  den  I  put  mine 
hand  on  mine  hed,  und  dere  vas  one  pain;  den  I  put  mine  hand 
on  mine  body,  und  dere  vas  anoder  pain;  den  I  put  mine  hand 
on  mine  pocket,  und  dere  vas  noting.  So  I  jine  mid  de  dem- 
perance.  Now  dere  vas  no  pain  in  mine  hed,  und  de  pain  in 
mine  body  vas  all  gone  avay.  I  put  mine  hand  on  mine  pock- 
et, und  dere  vas  dwendy  dollars.  So  I  stay  mid  de  demperance 
beoples."        ^ 

Shakespeare  slightly  altered: 
"O  Romeo,  Romeo,  wherefore  art  thou,  Romeo? 
Thou  lovest  me  not,  or  thou  would'st  stay  at  hom-e-o; 
The  babe  is  squalling  for  his  dad-e-o, 
An  endless  nuisance  to  his  mammy-o; 
So,  Romeo,  cease  thee  now  to  roam-e-o. 
And  hie  thee  as  a  dove  to  hom-e-o. " 


446  HUMOROUS  SCRAPS. 

^HAl^GB   OP    IPHB    Dl^BSS   Bl^IGADB. 

Half  a  league,  half  a  league,  half  a  league  rearward, 

Right  through  the  mire  and  dirt. 

Much  of  its  beauty  hurt. 

Dragged  the  rich  silken  skirt. 
Half  a  league  rearwai"d. 

Half  a  peck,  half  a  peck,  half  a  peck  fully. 

Hirsute  and  woolly. 

Right  into  the  liquid  air 

Rose  up  the  pile  of  hair, 
From  other  heads  sundered. 

Nobly  astraddle  on  it 

Rode  the  brave  bonnet! 

Rode,  though  it  wondered — 

Curls  to  the  right  of  it. 

Curls  to  the  left  of  it, 

Curls  to  the  rear  of  it. 
Curls  that  were  plundered. 

What  though  men  shout,  "O  fie! 

Fortunes  you  have  squandered!" 

Theirs  not  to  make  reply, 

Theirs  not  to  reason  why, 

Theirs  but  to  dress  or  die — 

"Charge!"  to  the  clerks  they  cry — 
"Charge  by  the  hundred!" 

A  gentleman,  passing  along  by  a  deep  river,  saw  two  boys 
fishing.  Suddenly  one  of  them  lost  his  footing  and  fell  into 
the  stream.  The  other  plunged  in  to  save  bis  drowning  com- 
panion, and,  after  almost  superhuman  exertions,  succeeded  in 
landing  him  safe  on  the  bank.  The  gentleman,  greatly  admir- 
ing the  heroic  daring  of  the  young  swimmer,  said  to  him,  "Is 
that  boy  your  brother.? "  "  No,"  said  the  hero,  "  he  ain't  no  kin 
to  me."  "Then  why  did  you  struggle  so  hard,  and  risk  your 
life  so,  to  save  him?"  "'Cause  he  had  all  the  bait,"  replied  the 
youthful  knight  of  the  rod.  If  we  always  knew  the  motives 
which  inspire  our  heroes,  not  a  few  of  our  dearest  idols  would 
be  shattered. 


one  of  ''joe's"  jokes.  447 

One  op  "(3ob's"  qIokbs. 

The  New  Orleans  Picayune  tells  the  following: 

One*  of  Joe's  latest  jok^s  was  played  upon  a  stranger  who 
came  into  the  city  by  the  Jackson  train  during  the  recent  yel- 
low fever  scare.  The  cars  had  emptied  out  their  cargo  of  pas- 
sengers, and  one  greenish,  country-looking  chap  stood  apart 
from  the  crowd  with  carpet-bag  in  hand,  evidently  at  a  loss  as 
to  what  he  should  do  with  himself.  He  had  not  stood  long  l)e- 
fore  Joe  "  went  for  him!" 

"Five  feet  nine,  high;  two  feet  eleven,  across  the  breast;  and 
eighteen  inches  through,"  said  Joe,  looking  the  new  arrival 
straight  in  the  face,  not  cracking  a  smile,  and  drawing  from  his 
pocket  a  tape-line  with  which  he  was  about  to  verify  his  esti- 
mated measurement. 

"What  do  you  mean,  sir?"  eagerly  inquired  the  stranger. 

"Why,  it's  all  right!"  said  Joe,  putting  the  tape-line  back  in 
his  pocket.  "  You  measure  five  feet  nine  by  two  feet  eleven  by 
eighteen.     It'll  be  ready  for  you  by  9  o'clock  in  the  morning." 

"  What  have  you  to  do  with  my  measurement,  sir?  What  is 
to  be  ready  by  9  o'clock  in  the  morning?  What  are  you  driv- 
ing at,  sir?"  inquired  the  countryman,  excitedly  and  angrily. 

"  Why,  you  see,"  said  Joe,  "  I'm  the  city  undertaker,  and  the 
yellow  fever  is  killing  the  strangers  off  so  rapidly  that  I  have  to 
get  their  measures  as  they  come  into  the  city.  If  I  did  not,  you 
see,  sir,  the  dead  bodies  would  accumulate  on  my  hands." 

At  this  an  unusual  pallor  came  over  the  countryman;  kis 
whole  body  was  in  a  quiver,  and,  turning  to  the  baggage-mas- 
ter, he  said:  "Look  here,  mister,  check  my  baggage  up  the 
road!     I  goes  home  by  the  next  train." 

The  story  is  told  of  the  famous  German  scientist,  Alexander 
von  Humboldt,  that,  being  engaged  in  experiments  with  Gay- 
Lussac  in  Paris  and  needing  a  large  number  of  glass  tubes,  on 
which  a  heavy  duty  was  imposed,  he  instructed  the  manufact- 
urers to  seal  the  ends  of  the  tubes  and  label  them,  "German 
air."  The  air  of  Germany  was  not  on  the  list  of  duty-paying 
articles,  and  the  tubes  duly  passed  the  custom-officers  without 
any  demand. 

The  great  labor  of  love — money-making. 


448  HUMOROUS  SCRAPS. 

©HE  Dbyil  Fishing. 

The  devil  sat  by  the  river's  side — 

The  stream  of  Time,  where  you'll  always  find  him — 
Casting  his  line  in  the  rushing  tide, 

And  landing  the  fish  on  the  bank  behind  him. 

He  sat  at  ease  in  a  cosy  nook, 

And  was  filling  his  basket  very  fast; 
While  you  might  have  seen  that  his  deadly  hook 

Was  differently  baited  for  every  cast. 

He  caught  them  as  fast  as  a  man  could  count — 

Little  or  big,  it  was  all  the  same; 
One  bait  was  a  check  for  a  round  amount — 

An  Assemblyman  nabbed  it,  and  out  he  came. 

He  took  a  gem  that  as  Saturn  shone; 

It  sank  in  the  water  without  a  sound, 
And  caught  a  woman  who  long  was  known 

As  the  best  and  purest  for  miles  around. 

Sometimes  he  would  laugh,  and  sometimes  sing, 

For  better  luck  no  one  could  wish. 
And  he  seemed  to  know,  to  a  dead  sure  thing, 

The  bait  best  suited  to  every  fish. 

Quoth  Satan,  "The  fishing  is  rare  and  fine!" 
And  he  took  a  drink,  somewhat  enthused; 

And  yet  a  parson  swam  round  the  line 

That  e'en  the  most  tempting  of  baits  refused. 

He  tried  v^^ith  his  gold  and  flashing  gems, 

Hung  fame  and  fortune  upon  the  line. 
Dressing-gowns  with  embroidered  hems, 

But  still  the  dominie  made  no  sign. 

A  woman's  garter  went  on  the  hook — 

"I  have  him  at  last!"  quoth  the  devil,  brightening; 

Then  Satan's  sides  with  laughter  shook, 

And  he  landed  the  preacher  as  quick  as  lightning. 

A  school-boy  being  asked  by  his  teacher  how  he  should  flog 
him,  replied:  "If  you  please  sir,  I  should  like  to  have  it  on  the 
Italian  system  of  penmanship — the  heavy  strokes  upward,  and 
the  downward  ones  light." 


THE  ELDERS  PREDICAMENT.  449 

©HE   €LDBI^*S   ©l^BDIGAMBNIt. 

In  old  North  Carolina,  long,  long  years  ago — 

As  lately  appeared  in  the  News — 
The  following  occurred,  and  I  guess  it  is  so, 

But  believe  it  or  not,  as  you  choose. 

There  lived  a  good  dame — Sister  Burge  was  her  name 

With  her  boy,  then  an  urchin  of  eight. 
Though  tender  in  years,  yet  he  oft  was  to  blame, 

And  his  mother  his  faults  would  berate. 

She  kept  all  her  sugar  just  under  the  stairs 

In  the  closet — where  safe  it  would  be — 
Where  oft  she  retired  for  evening  prayers, 

Unseen,  on  devotional  4cnee. 

But,  with  all  her  precautions,  her  sugar  would  go, 

Growing  less  on  each  day  of  the  week, 
Till  she  thought  she  could  bear  it  no  longer,  and  so 

She  determined  to  find  out  the  leak. 

She  told  her  young  "hopeful "  that  he  was  the  cause 

Of  it  all,  and  was  guilty  of  crime. 
And  she  read  in  his  hearing  a  new  code  of  laws, 

And  she'd  ^^flog  him  the  very  next  time." 

Soon  the  Methodist  quarterly-meeting  came  round. 

And  the  elder  stopped  there  for  the  night, 
And  he  rose  the  next  morning  before  any  sound 

Had  betokened  the  dawning  of  light. 

He  groped  then  his  way  t6  the  closet  to  bow 

Without  any  evil  intent. 
To  pay  once  again  to  his  Maker  a  vow, 

And  so  into  that  closet  he  went. 

The  good  Sister  Burge  then  imagined  she  heard 

In  the  closet  her  boy  again. 
So  she  crept  along  softly,  and  spoke  not  a  word, 

As  her  watching  had  not  been  in  vain. 
29 


450  HUMOBOUS  SCRAPS. 

Then  into  that  closet  she  hastily  rushed, 

With  a  long  hickory  switch  in  her  hand, 
When  the  prayers  of  that  elder  were  speedily  hushed. 

And  his  pleadings  were  brought  to  a  stand. 

With  uplifted  hand  she  laid  on  with  a  will. 
And  the  whacks  she  poured  heavy  and  fast. 

Thus  she  hoped  in  her  son  better  thoughts  to  instill, 
As  she  cried,  "■  I  have  got  you  at  last!" 

"Save  Y)E^;  She  is  (Qy  ^ipeI" 

Marital  affection  is  a  beautiful  thing,  and  every  fresh  exhibi- 
tion of  its  tenderness  affects  us  to  tears.  A  wife — possibly  an 
old  wife — on  a  certain  occasion  fell  overboard.  The  husband 
rushed  frantically  about  the  deck,  literally  tearing  his  hair  out 
by  the  handful  and  crying  in  the  most  beseeching  tones:  "For 
Heaven's  sake,  save  her,  save  her;  she  is  my  wife!"  The  noble 
sailors  thought  of  their  own  sweethearts  and  i^an  all  risks,  and 
at  last  brought  the  poor  woman  into  the  cabin  of  the  swooning 
husband.  The  look  of  gratitude  he  gave  them  fully  repaid  them 
for  all  their  efforts.  Then,  recovering  his  equanimity,  he  thrust 
his  hand  into  his  wife's  wet  pocket,  pulled  out  a  somewhat 
plethoric  purse  and,  with  infinite  relief,  said:  "Old  woman,  the 
next  time  you  tumble  overboard  just  leave  that  purse  behind, 
will  you?     You  scared  me  almost  to  death." 

An  Albany  man,  at  the  request  of  a  drunken  friend,  took 
some  of  his  valuables  for  safe  keeping.  The  drunken  friend  ■ 
told  the  police  that  he  had  been  robbed,  and  the  preserver  of 
his  property  has  been  shut  up  for  four  months  in  the  Albany 
penitentiary.  The  best  way  is  to  shun  the  company  of  a  drunk- 
en man  as  you  would  the  poisonous  liquid  that  made  him  so. 

A  student  in  the  Andover  Seminary,  whom  I  well  knew, 
and  who  afterward  became  a  very  useful  minister,  was  sus- 
pended for  awhile  because  of  the  offense  that  he  gave  when  it 
came  his  turn  to  "return  thanks"  at  the  close  of  the  common 
dinner,  by  venturing  to  suggest  that,  if  it  were  consistent  with 
the  divine  purpose,  it  would  be  gratifying  to  have  some  im- 
provement in  the  fare. 


flMSr^IGAN  LiBADEI^S. 


BY  W.  W.  BREESE. 


LARGE  number  of  those  who  have  been 
the  true  leaders  of  American  sentiment 
and  thought  are  very  httle  known  or  talked 
about  at  the  present  time.  We  can  but 
acknowledge  the  hand  of  Providence  in  giving  us 
such  leaders  as  we  have  had.  They  have  given  such 
a  bias  to  our  American  manners,  thought,  habits,  and 
sentiments,  that  we  shall  never  depart  from  present 
customs  to  any  great  extent,  but  as  the  years  go  by 
will  become  as  distinct  in  our  characteristics  as  are 
the  older  nations  of  the  globe. 

The  one  great  name  to  which  American  people 
turn  with  pride — the  synonym  for  purity  and  free- 
dom— is  that  of  Roger  Williams,  called  "  the  apostle 
of  civil  and  religious  liberty."  He  was  a  learned 
university  man,  who  came  to  New  England  for  con- 
science' sake.  He  was  born  in  Wales,  in  1606,  edu- 
cated at  Oxford,  England,  and  studied  law  in  his  early 
life.  He  wrote  the  "  Key  into  the  Language  of 
America;"  also  "  The  Bloody  Tenant  of  Persecution," 
"The  Hireling  Ministry,"  and  a  variety  of  religious 

(451) 


452  BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCII£!.<\ 

works.     He  was  the  founder  of  the  colony  of  Rhode 
Island,  and  a  Baptist  minister. 

At  a  later  day  we  find  Nathaniel  Bacon,  "  scholar, 
patriot,  enthusiast,  and  rebel."  He  came  to  Virginia 
from  London  in  1673,  and  purchased  an  estate.  "  The 
oppression  of  Great  Britain  upon  the  American  colo- 
nies at  that  time  could  not  fail  to  arouse  in  one  of  such 
an  ardent  temperament  the  most  intense  resentment." 
Under  the  lead  of  this  man  a  rebeUion  soon  broke  out, 
which  was  perfectly  successful  for  the  time  being. 
"The  bigoted  and  arbitrary  action  of  Sir  William 
Berkeley,  Governor  of  the  colony,  precipitated  the 
crisis,  and  the  old  government  collapsed  in  a  farce. 
/  *  Bacon's  laws,'  which  were  then  enacted,  are  many 
of  them  to-day  in  force,  although  set  aside  soon  after 
their  passage,  and  their  chief  author  denounced  as  a 
rebel."  But  Bacon's  career  suddenly  ended  in  death 
by  pneumonia,  and  the  cause  of  the  people  collapsed 
for  want  of  a  suitable  leader  to  take  his  place..  Thus 
ended  "  Bacon's  Rebellion,"  as  it  was  called. 

Another  wonderful  man,  contemporaneous  with 
the  last  one  mentioned,  was  Robert  Cavelier  de  la 
Salle,  the  discoverer  of  the  Northern  Lakes  and  re- 
nowned explore'r  of  the  Mississippi  Valley.  He  was 
born  in  France  during  the  year  1643.  He  died  in 
1687. 

Gen.  James  Oglethorpe,  the  founder  of  Georgia, 
was  one  of  the  most  remarkable  men  of  his  remark- 
able period  in  the  history  of  the  world.  He  lived  to 
the  great  age  of  eighty-nine  years,  and  to  the  last 
retained  almost  the  perfect  vigor  of  youth.  To  his 
wise  foresight  much  of  the  present  prosperity  of  that 
great  State  may  be  attributed. 


AMERICAN  LEADERS.  453 

Coming  down  a  little  later  we  find  Patrick  Henry, 
the  colonial  orator  and  eccentric  genius,  who  was  born 
in  Hanover  County,  Va.,  May  29,  1736.  He  failed  both 
as  a  merchant  and  a  farmer,  and  could  do  nothing  well 
except  under  the  stimulus  of  opposition  or  politics. 
His  patriotic  services  entitle  him  to  the  most  profound 
veneration  of  his  countrymen. 

No  name  deserves  greater  honor  from  his  country- 
men than  that  of  Thomas  Posey,  eminent  for  services 
during  the  Revolutionary  War,  in  the  Southern  army. 
Pie  was  born  in  Virginia,  in  1750.  He  served  his 
country  in  various  spheres,  and  died,  as  he  had  lived, 
a  firm  believer  in  the  doctrines  of  the  Bible. 

John  Adams,  second  President  of  the  United  States, 
was  born  at  Braintree,  Mass.,  October  19,  1735.  ^^ 
was  a  noted  political  writer  in  his  day,  and  wielded  a 
vast  influence  in  the  United  Colonies.  His  most 
noted  literary  work  was  his  personal  diary,  continued 
for  thirty  years. 

The  name  of  William  Richardson  Davie  deserves 
to  be  held  in  reverence  by  all  true  American  patriots. 
At  an  early  age  he  joined  the  colonial  troops  and  was 
elected  lieutenant  of  a  company  of  volunteers,  from 
which  position  he  rapidly  rose  to  become  the  Com- 
missary-general to  the  Southern  army.  In  this  latter 
position  he  served  his  country  with  eminent  success, 
although  little  fame  attaches  to  such  a  position.  His 
was  a  noble  example  of  self-denial  and  devotion  to 
duty.  Fitted  by  nature  and  culture  for  great  military 
achievements,  he  resigned  all  such  prospects  and  gave 
himself  to  the  performance  of  the  most  arduous  and 
the  most  important  duties  connected  with  an  army — 
that  of  providing  food  and  raiment.     What  Robert 


454  BIO  GRAPHICAL  SKETCHES. 

Morris  was  to  the  Northern  army  Col.  William  R. 
Davie  was  to  the  Southern.  He  w^as  a  member  of 
the  Constitutional  Convention,  in  1787,  and  took  an 
active  part  in  the  framing  of  that  immortal  instrument, 
the  Constitution  of  the  United  States.  He  was  after- 
ward chosen  Governor  of  North  Carolina,  and  finally 
Minister  to  France.  He  died  in  December,  1820,  in 
the  65th  year  of  his  age. 

To  illustrate  the  material  of  which  leaders  were 
made  in  that  early  day,  w^e  introduce  the  following 
anecdote: 

Nearl}'  a  century  and  a  half  ago  an  Irishwoman, 
while  crossing  the  ocean  to  what  were  then  the  Brit- 
ish Colonies  in  America,  was  asked  by  a  fellow-pas- 
senger: "What  do  you  expect  to  do  when  you  get 
to  America?"  "Do?"  she  answered  with  Irish  wit. 
"  Why,  raise  governors  for  them."  She  became  the 
mother  of  Gen.  John  Sullivan,  President  of  New 
Hampshire,  as  the  governors  of  that  State  were  once 
called,  and  of  James  Sullivan,  Governor  of  Massa- 
chusetts. Squire  Livermore  lived  in  Portsmouth,  and 
owned  a  good  library.  One  day  a  roughly-dressed 
lad  knocked  at  the  squire's  door  and  asked  for  work. 
"What  can  you  do,  my  lad,  if  I  take  you?"  asked 
the  squire  kindly.  "  O,  I  can  split  the  wood,  take 
care  of  the  horse,  attend  to  the  garden,  and  perhaps 
find  some  spare  time  to  read  a  little,  if  you  can  give 
me  the  privilege."  Mr.  Livermore  hired  the  boy, 
gave  him  a  place  in  the  kitchen,  and  when  his  chores 
were  done  allowed  him  to  take  a  seat  in  the  library 
and  read.  One  evening  there  was  a  fight  in  the  town 
between  two  men,  and  the  person  who  had  been 
whipped  prosecuted  the  other  for  assault  and  battery. 


AMERICAN  LEADERS.  466 

The  latter  at  once  came  to  the  squire's  office  to  se- 
cure his  legal  services.  The  squire  was  absent,  but 
a  youth  sat  there  reading,  and  the  man,  thinking  that 
any  one  associated  with  the  squire  must  be  a  lawyer, 
asked  the  youth  to  defend  him.  He  consented,  and 
leaving  word  in  the  kitchen  that  he  had  gone  to  the 
justice's  office,  trudged  off  with  his  client.  While 
the  trial  was  going  on  Mr.  Livermore  returned  to  his 
office.  Learning  the  boy's  whereabouts,  he  went  to 
the  court  and  slipped  into  a  room  where  he  could  see 
and  hear  without  being  seen.  The  boy  had  just  be- 
gun his  argument.  So  adroitly  did  he  defend  his 
cHent  that  the  man  was  acquitted.  The  next  morn- 
ing the  youth  was  called  into  the  squire's  office. 
"John,"  said  Mr.  Livermore,  "  my  kitchen  is  no  place 
for  you.  Give  your  attention  to  study,  and  you  shall 
have  all  the  assistance  from  me  you  may  need."  The 
boy  was  John  Sullivan. 

"The  youngest  soldier  in  the  Revolution"  is  said 
to  have  been  Richard  Lord  Jones,  born  on  May  15, 
1767,  in  Colchester,  Conn.  He  enlisted  at  Hartford 
for  the  term  of  three  years  in  Capt.  James  Watson's 
company  of  the  Third  Connecticut  regiment,  com- 
manded by  Col.  Samuel  B.  Webb,  the  father  of  the 
late  Gen.  James  Watson  Webb,  and  was  the  young- 
est enlisted  person  on  the  pay-roll  of  the  Army  of 
the  Revolution.  He  was  immediately  placed  under 
the  charge  of  Bandmaster  Ballentine,  and  instructed 
to  play  the  fife. 

Master  Jones  continued  with  the  Continental  army 
until  its  disbanding,  and  attained  considerable  reputa- 
tion by  a  successful  pugilistic  encounter  with  a  British 
boy  much  larger  and  heavier  than  himself. 


456  BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCHES. 

Joseph  Hamilton  Daviess,  after  whom  Daviess 
County,  Ky.,  was  named,  was  a  briUiant,  eccentric 
lawyer,  almost  as  widely  and  favorably  known  as 
Daniel  Boone  himself  in  the  State  of  Kentucky.  His 
name  was  a  power  among  the  pioneers  of  that  great 
State. 

Another  name,  deserving  immortal  fame  for  his  aid 
in  our  early  struggles  for  liberty,  was  that  of  Thomas 
Paine,  born  January  29,  1737,  at  Thetford,  County  of 
Norfolk,  England.  He  came  to  America  early  in 
1775,  and  at  once  became  a  leading  political  writer. 
His  "  Common  Sense "  was  a  famous  pamphlet,  and 
met  with  an  enormous  sale.  A  series  of  eighteen 
patriotic  tracts,  named  "The  Crisis,"  was  his  next 
effort.  He  published  the  "  Rights  of  Man "  in  Eng- 
land, and  then  went  to  France,  where  he  came  near 
losing  his  life,  and  also  imbibed  his  infidel  notions, 
which  have  rendered  his  name  odious  by  reason  of 
the  book  called  "  The  Age  of  Reason,"  the  first  part 
of  which  was  first  issued  while  he  was  in  a  French 
prison.  This  was  his  last  work,  and  destroyed  his 
character  so  that  he  resorted  to  strong  *drink  and  rap- 
idly sank  into  shame  and  ignominy. 

There  were  two  men  who,  under  the  hand  of  God, 
have  done  great  things  for  this  land,  but  were  never 
permanent  residents  or  citizens  of  this  country. 
George  Whitefield,  one  of  the  founders  of  Method- 
ism, was  born  in  the  Bull  Inn,  Gloucester,  England, 
on  December  16,  17 14.  In  1738  he  visited  America. 
This  was  a  short  visit,  and  at  the  end  of  three  months 
he  returned  to  England.  But  he  soon  after  returned 
to  America,  and  began  the  most  amazing  series  of  re- 
vivals that  this  country  has  ever  known.     The  name 


AMERICAN  LEADERS.  457 

of  Whiteficld  is  known  throughout  America,  and  he 
is  beheved  to  have  been  the  greatest  pulpit  orator  of 
his  times. 

John  Wesley,  founder  of  the  Arminian  branch  of 
Methodism,  was  born  at  Epworth,  in  Lincolnshire, 
England,  June  17,  1703.  In  1735  he  was  induced  to 
go  out  to  Georgia  with  General  Oglethorpe  to  preach 
to  the  Indians  and  colonists,  but  returned  to  England 
in  less  than  two  years  afterward.  His  influence  has 
extended  to  the  most  remote  parts  of  the  world. 

In  this  connection  we  must  mention  the  eccentric 
and  indefatigable  Lorenzo  Dow,  born  in  1777,  in  Con- 
necticut. He  traveled  extensively,  at  one  time  call- 
ing himself  a  missionary  to  the  Roman  Catholics  of 
Ireland,  where  he  went.  He  preached  in  England 
also,  and  every-where  he  went  drew  large  crowds  of 
curious  and  interested  hearers.  He  traveled  all  over 
the  United  States,  so  far  as  they  were  settled  by 
white  men,  and  was  quite  a  voluminous  writer.  He 
died  in  1834. 

John  Marshall,  Chief  Justice  of  the  Supreme  Court 
of  the  United  States,  was  born  September  24,  1755. 
His  legal  writings  and  decisions  are  recognized  as  the 
greatest  ever  produced  in  this  country,  and  he  may 
justly  be  called  the  "  Father  of  American  law."  He 
also  wrote  the  first  complete  Life  of  George  Wash- 
ington, in  five  large  volumes. 

Dr.  Benjamin  Rush  was  born  December  24,  1745, 
near  Philadelphia.  He  was  one  of  the  signers  of 
the  Declaration  of  Independence,  a  leader  in  the 
Revolution,  and  a  voluminous  writer  on  medical  sub- 
jects. 

Philip  Freneau,  born  in  New  York  Cit}^  January  2, 


458  BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCHES. 

1752,  was  the   leading   Revolutionary  poet,  and  an 
author  of  much  renown  and  true  merit. 

Noah  Webster,  author  of  the  "Elementary  Spell- 
ing-book "  and  Webster's  Dictionary,  was  born  Octo- 
ber 16,  1758,  in  West  Hartford,  Connecticut.  He 
has  done  more  to  train  the  minds  of  our  people  in  lit- 
erary matters  during  the  past  century  than  any  other 
man  who  has  ever  lived  on  the  American  continent. 

Another  author  of  a  little  later  date,  but  no  less  re- 
nown, was  Washington  Irving,  born  April  8,  1783,  in 
the  city  of  New  York,  and  of  Scotch  parentage.  He 
was  the  most  elegant  and  accomplished  author  of  the 
early  part  of  the  present  century.  His  writings  are 
still  in  general  circulation,  and  excite  universal  admi- 
ration. His  most  famous  book  is  "  The  Sketch  Book." 
He  was  a  voluminous  author,  and  devoted  his  life  to 
literature,  spending  four  years  in  public  life  as  United 
States  Minister  to  the  Court  of  S.pain.  He  studied 
law,  but  never  practiced  it.  He  was  a  bachelor,  and 
never  married,  having  been  early  disappointed  in  love. 
He  wrote  the  Celebrated  account  of  "  Rip  Van  Win- 
kle," and  many  others  nearly  as  famous. 

Washington  Allston,  whose  life  and  writings  were 
nearly  contemporaneous  with  those  of  Washington 
Irving,  was  born  November  5,  1779,  at  Charleston, 
S.  C.  "  He  was  prepared  for  college  at  the  school  of 
Mr.  Robert  Rogers  of  Newport,  R.  I.;  entered  Har-' 
vard  in  1796,  and  on  the  completion  of  his  course  de- 
livered a  poem."  He  was  not  a  voluminous  writer, 
but  one  of  great  elegance  and  care.  He  was  a 
painter  by  profession,  and  resided  seven  years  in  Eu- 
rope. He  died  July  8, 1843,  at  his  home  in  Cambridge- 
port,  Mass. 


AMERICAN  LEADERS.  459 

But  we  have  a  large  number  of  leaders  in  our  own 
clay  and  age,  in  the  various  avocations  of  public  life. 
Says  the  editor  of  the  New  York  World:  "The 
American  novelists  are  now,  without  doubt,  a  large 
and  accomplished  class  of  writers.  Since  an  impetus 
thus  given  to  American  fiction  several  years  ago,  they 
have  been  bold  and  ambitious.  Each  year  has  brought 
forward  its  new  men,  and  the  average  work  done  by 
these,  and  by  others  with  reputations  already  estab- 
lished, is  remarkably  strong.  It  is  conceded  to-day 
that  American  fiction  is  considerably  higher  as  litera- 
ture than  British  fiction." 

The  list  of  authors  mentioned  include  the  following 
names:  Edgar  Fawcett,  Admiral  Porter,  Dr.  William 
A.  Hammond,  George  Alfred  Townsend,  Charles  Eg- 
bert Craddock,  Henry  James,  H.  H.  Boyesen,  Robert 
Grant,  Frank  R.  Stockton,  Donald  G.  Mitchell,  E.  W. 
Howe,  Anna  Katherine  Green,  Julian  Hawthorne, 
Angeline  Teal,  Amanda  M.  Douglass,  Helen  Hunt 
Jackson,  Sherwood  Bonner,  Judge  Albion  W.  Tourgee, 
and  many  others.  Besides  these,  there  are  numbers 
of  authors  whose  books  are  sold  by  subscription, 
without  being  advertised  in  the  press  of  the  country, 
and  which  are  meeting  with  an  immense  sale.  These 
authors  may  truly  be  classed  as  American  leaders. 

The  name  of  Thomas  A.  Edison,  American  in- 
ventor, will  be  remembered  and  venerated  in  connec- 
tion with  that  of  Samuel  Finley  Breese  Morse,  the 
inventor  of  the  electric  telegraph.  A  host  of  other 
men,  scarcely  less  honored  as  scientists,  could  be 
mentioned.  Others  are  pressing  to  the  front,  and  it 
is  only  a  question  of  time  when  their  names  and  in- 
fluence will  be  recognized  as  a  power  in  the  land. 


460  BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCHES. 

SliOI^IBS  OP  ?3t5EBSiIiBI^. 

Mr.  Webster's  continuance  in  Mr.  Tyler's  Cabinet  caused  con- 
siderable shyness  on  the  part  of  many  of  his  old  political  asso- 
ciates toward  him.  After  a  brief  period  the  illustrious  states- 
man concluded  the  celebrated  treaty  with  England  which  won 
for  him  a  world-wide  renown.  At  this  juncture  Col.  Seaton 
gave  a  splendid  banquet,  at  which  were  a  large  number  of  Sen- 
ators and  members  of  the  House  of  Representatives.  The 
convivialities  had  just  commenced  when  the  dignified  form  of 
Webster  was  seen  entering  the  parlor,  and  as  he  advanced  his 
big  eye  surveyed  the  company,  recognizing,  doubtless,  some  of 
those  who  had  become  partially  alienated  from  him.  On  the 
instant  up  sprang  a  distinguished  Senator  from  one  of  the  large 
Southern  States,  who  exclaimed:  "Gentlemen,  I  have  a  senti- 
ment to  propose — the  health  of  our  eminent  citizen,  the  nego- 
tiator of  the  Ashburton  treaty."  The  company  enthusiastically 
responded.  Webster  instantly  replied:  "I  have  also  a  senti- 
ment for  you — the  Senate  of  the  United  States,  without  which 
the  Ashburton  treaty  would  have  been  nothing,  and  the  nego- 
tiator of  that  treaty  less  than  nothing."  The  quickness  and 
fitness  of  this  at  once  banished  every  doubtful  or  unfriendly 
feeling.  The  company  clustered  around  the  magnate  whose 
sprightly  and  edifying  conversation  never  failed  to  excite  admi- 
ration, and  the  remainder  of  the  evening  was  spdnt  in  a  manner 
most  agreeable  to  all. 

Returning  home  on  a  starlight  evening,  arm-in-arm  with  a 
friend,  Mr.  Webster  suddenly  halted,  and,  looking  upward,  made 
a  beautiful  remark  on  the  appearance  of  the  spangled  sky, 
which  he  concluded  by  repeating  the  whole  of  the  Eighth 
Psalm,  in  which  the  sweet  singer  of  Israel  so  sublimely  de- 
scribes the  glories  of  the  heavenly  bodies.  On  another  occa- 
sion, after  conversing  with  deep  interest  on  various  subjects, 
Mr.  Webster  checked  the  progress  of  a  friend  and  recited  sev- 
eral verses  of  Virgil,  which  contained  sentiments  similar  to 
those  indited  by  the  inspired  writer.  Whether  his  theme  was 
the  past,  the  present,  or  the  future,  the  conversations  of  Mr. 
Webster  were  invested  with  an  interest,  strength,  and  elegance 
which  attracted,  edified,  and  left  the  fortunate  listener  a  wiser 
if  not  a  better  man  than  before  his  interview  with  the  intel- 
lectual American. 


A  SELF- CONTROLLED  YOUTH.  4<J1 

^LAY,  OJEBSTEI^,  and  @ALH0UN. 

A  correspondent  of  the  Philadelphia  Press  thus  quotes  Jef- 
ferson Davis:  "I  had  peculiarly  intimate 'relations  with  Clay, 
Calhoun,  and  Webster.  I  went  to  school  in  Mr.  Clay's  town, 
and  his  favorite  son  was  killed  with  me  in  Mexico,  and  he 
alway^  associated  me  with  that  boy,  Mr.  Calhoun  gave  me 
my  first  warrant  to  West  Point,  and,  by  a  singular  coincidence, 
when  I  went  to  the  Senate  my  seat  was  by  his  side,  and  he 
always  seemed  to  take  a  fatherly  supervision  over  me.  While 
in  the  House  I  had  been  upon  a  committee  charged  with  inves- 
tigating the  State  Department  under  Mr.  Webster's  administra- 
tion. He  had  been  charged  with  misappropriating  some  of  the 
Secret  Service  funds,  but  the  investigation  showed  that  he  had 
simply  used  it  to  prevent  the  introduction  of  the  Ashburton 
treaty  into  the  politics  of  the  State  of  Maine.  I  drew  and 
championed  the  report  which  exonerated  him.  Mr.  Webster 
never  forgot  that  act.  He  was  the  most  grateful  man  for  any 
act  of  kindness,  or  interest  in  him,  that  I  ever  knew.  He  was  a 
great  orator,  but  not  in  the  sense  in  which  Mr.  Clay  was." 

p  Sblp-gonhti^ollbd  XJou^r. 

Young  men  do  not  realize  as  they  should  the  importance  of 
early  forming  habits  of  self-control  and  self-denial.  Not  a  few 
men  of  genius  have  been  wrecked  because  they  did  not  learn  in 
youth  to  deny  themselves  a  temporary  pleasure  for  the  sake  of 
a  permanent  benefit. 

When  John  Quincy  Adams  was  but  fourteen  years  of  age  he 
was  selected  by  Francis  Dana,  United  States  Minister  to  Rus- 
sia, as  his  private  secretary.  Boy  though  he  was,  young  Adams 
resisted  the  social  pleasures  of  court  life  at  St.  Petersburg,  that 
he  might  give  himself  to  his  official  duties  and  to  the  study  of 
Latin,  German,  and  French,  and  to  a  course  of  English  history. 

Subsequently  he  resided  at  Stockholm  and  at  Paris.  In  both 
of  these  gay  and  dissolute  cities  he  was  his  own  master.  But 
instead  of  yielding  to  social  temptations,  this  boy  of  eighteen 
resolutely  continued  at  his  studies. 

While  hard  at  mental  work  in  Paris,  his  father,  John  Adams, 
was  appointed  Minister  to  the  Court  of  St.  James.  London's 
literary  and  social  privileges  would  have  been  opened  to  the  soq 


462  BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCHES. 

of  the  American  Minister.  His  father  would  have  been  pleased 
to  have  had  him  in  his  family.  The  temptations  to  remain 
abroad  were  many  ajid  strong.  But  the  youth  turned  his  back 
upon  them  all,  and  decided  to  return  to  the  United  States  and 
fit  himself  to  earn  his  own  living.     He  wrote  in  his  diary: 

"  If  I  accompany  my  father  to  London,  my  satisfaction  would 
possibly  be  greater  than  by  returning  to  the  United  States;  but 
I  shall  loiter  away  my  precious  time,  and  not  go  home  until  I  am 
forced  to  it. 

"My  father  has  been  all  his  life-time  occupied  by  the  interests 
of  the  public.  His  own  fortune  has  suffered.  His  children 
must  provide  for  themselves. 

"7  am  determined  to  get  my  own  living,  and  to  he  dependent  upon 
no  one.  With  a  tolerable  share  of  common  sense,  I  hope  in 
America  to  be  independent  and  free.  Bather  than  live  other- 
wise, I  would  wish  to  die  before  my  time.'''' 

We  have  italicised  several  lines  of  this  entry,  because  we 
would  call  attention  to  the  fact  that  this  boy  of  eighteen  reso- 
lutely put  aside  congenial  pleasures  in  order  to  become  self- 
reliant  and  self-supporting. 

He  was  a  rising  lawyer  when,  at  the  age  of  twenty-seven,  the 
President  appointed  him  United  States  Ministc  at  the  Hague. 

He  filled  the  place.  His  official  duties  were  thoroughl}'  at- 
tended to,  and  a  little  of  his  time  was  given  to  those  social 
duties  which  his  position  imposed.  But  most  of  his  leisure 
hours  were  employed  in  studying  diplomacy,  the  English  and 
Latin  classics,  and  the  Dutch  and  Italian  languages. 

At  night  he  reviewed  the  day,  and  censured  himself  if  any 
duty  had  been  omitted.  At  the  close  of  every  month  and  year 
he  took  an  inventory  of  his  moral  and  mental  stock,  to  deter- 
mine whether  he  had  gained  or  lost. 

In  1809  Mr.  Adams  became  our  Minister  to  the  Court  of  St. 
Petersburg.  He  found  himself  in  the  midst  of  splendor. 
Court  life  was  full  of  entertainments,  and  magnificent  banquets 
were  given  by  the  foreign  Ministers.  But  Mr.  Adams  con- 
tinued to  live  in  a  simple  style,  as  befitting  his  small  salary  and 
more  becoming  the  representative  of  the  Republic. 

Merchants  urged  him  to  accept  loans  of  money.  He  refused 
the  offers,  though  the  temptation  to  an  expensive  style  of  living 
amounted   almost  to  compulsion.     "I  will  live  within  my  in- 


CHARACTERISTICS  OF  PRENTISS.  463 

come,  and  I  will  not  anticipate  mv  salary,"  he  said,  with  Spar- 
tan firmness. 

Mr.  Adams's  simple  style  of  living  kept  him  in  good  health 
and  gave  him  leisure  to  indulge  his  thirst  for  knowledge.  Yet 
the  days  seemed  too  short  to  the  student,  who  studied  astron- 
omy, mathematics,  Plato,  Demosthenes,  Socrates,  yEschines,  and 
Cicero. 

"I  feel  nothing  like  the  tediousness  of  time,"  he  wrote  in  his 
diary.  "I  suffer  nothing  like  ennui.  Time  is  too  short  for  me, 
rather  than  too  long.  If  the  day  was  forty-eight  hours,  instead 
of  twenty-tour,  I  could  employ  them  all." 

Our  purpose  will  be  served  if  we  shall  have  induced  one 
young  man  to  imitate  John  Quincy  Adams's  self-reliant  and 
studious  habits.  The  country,  the  Churches,  and  society  need 
thousands  of  such  self-reliant  youth. 

(©HAI^AGTBI^ISTIGS  OP    l^I^BNIHSS. 

The  Hon.  Sergeant  S.  Prentiss,  the  petted  son  and  wor- 
shiped hero  of  Mississippi,  perhaps  more  than  any  other  man 
that  has  lived  in  modern  times,  represents  the  "  chivalry  "  of 
ante-bellum  days  in  the  South. 

Attachment  to  his  friends  was  a  passion.  It  was  a  part  of- 
the  loyalty  to  the  honorable  and  chivalric,  which  formed  the 
sub-soil  of  his  strange  and  wayward  nature.  He  never  deserted 
a  friend.  His  confidence  knew  no  bounds.  It  scorned  all 
restraints  and  considerations  of  prudence  or  policy.  He  made 
his  friends'  quarrels  his  own,  and  was  as  guardful  of  their  rep- 
utations as  of  his  own.  He  would  put  his  name  on  their  paper 
without  looking  at  the  face  of  it,  and  give  his  carte  blanche,  if 
needed,  by  the  quire.  He  was  above  the  littleness  of  jealousy 
or  rivalry,  and  his  love  of  truth,  his  fidelity  and  frankness, 
were  formed  on  the  antique  models  of  the  chevaliers.  But  in 
social  qualities  he  knew  no  rival.  These  made  him  the  delight 
of  every  circle.  The  same  histrionic  and  dramatic  talent  that 
gave  to  his  oratory  so  irresistible  a  charm,  and  adapted  him  to 
all  grades  and  sorts  of  people,  fitted  him,  in  conversation,  to 
delight  all  men.  He  never  staled  and  never  flagged.  Even  if 
the  fund  of  acquired  capital  could  have  run  out,  his  originality 
was  such  that  his  supply  from  the  perennial,  fountain  within 
was  inexhaustible. 


464  BIOGBAPHICAL  SKETCHES. 

fl  ©F^AGBDIAN'S  PjENDITION   OP  JPHB   ©I^AYBI^. 

In  the  early  and  palmy  days  of  his  theatrical  career  Booth 
and  several  friends  had  been  invited  to  dine  M^ith  an  old  gen- 
tleman in  Baltimore,  of  distinguished  kindness,  urbanity,  and 
piety.  The  host,  though  disapproving  of  theaters  and  theater- 
going, had  heard  so  much  of  Booth's  remarkable  pov\rers  that 
curiosity  to  see  the  man  had  overcome  all  scruples  and  preju- 
dices. After  the  entertainment  was  over,  lamps  lighted,  and 
the  company  reseated  in  the  drawing-room,  some  one  requested 
Booth,  as  a  particular  favor,  and  one  which  all  present  would 
doubtless  appreciate,  to  read  aloud  the  Lord's  Prayer. 

Booth  expressed  his  willingness,  and  all  eyes  were  turned 
expectantly  upon  him.  Slowly  and  reverently  he  rose  from  his 
chair.  It  was  wonderful  to  watch  the  emotions  that  convulsed 
his  countenance.  He  became  deadly  pale,  and  his  eyes,  turning 
tremblingly  upward,  were  suffused  with  tears.  As  yet  he  had 
not  spoken.  The  silence  could  be  felt.  It  had  become  abso- 
lutely painful,  until  at  last  the  spell  was  broken  as  if  by  an  elec- 
tric shock.  With  rich -toned  voice,  with  white  lips,  he  syllabled 
forth,  "  Our  Father,  which  art  in  heaven,"  etc.,  with  a  pathos 
and  solemnity  that  thrilled  all  hearts.  He  finished.  The  silence 
continued.  Not  a  voice  was  heard  nor  muscle  moved  in  the 
rapt  audience,  until  from  a  remote  corner  of  the  room  a  subdued 
sob  was  heard,  and  the  old  gentleman  (their  host)  stepped  for- 
ward, with  streaming  eyes  and  tottering  frame,  and  seized 
Booth  by  the  hand.  "Sir,"  said  he  in  broken  accents,  "you 
afford  me  a  pleasure  for  which  my  whole  future  will  feel  grate- 
ful. I  am  an  old  man,  and  every  day  from  my  boyhood  to  the 
present  time  I  thought  I  had  repeated  the  Lord's  Prayer;  but 
I  have  never  heai'd  it  before — never."  "You  are  right,"  replied 
Booth.  "To  read  that  prayer  as  it  s/iowM  be  read  has  caused 
me  the  severest  study  and  labor  for  thirty  years,  and  I  am  yet 
far  from  being  satisfied  with  my  rendering  of  that  wonderful 
production.  Hardly  one  person  in  ten  thousand  comprehends 
how  much  beauty,  tenderness,  and  grandeur  can  be  condensed 
in  a  space  so  small  and  in  words  so  simple.  That  prayer  itself 
illustrates  the  truth  of  the  Bible,  and  stamps  upon  it  the  seal  of 
divinity." 

So  great  was  the  effect  produced  that  conversation  was  sus- 


REPRESENTATIVE  MEN.  465 

tained  but  a  short  time  longer  in  subdued  monosyllables,  and 
almost  ceased,  and  soon  after,  at  an  early  hour,  the  company 
broke  up  and  returned  to  their  several  homes  with  thoughtful 
faces  and  full  hearts. 

Fate   op   flMEF^IGA'S   DlSGOYEI^BI^S. 

It  is  remarkable  how  few  of  the  eminent  men  of  the  discov- 
erers and  conquerors  of  the  New  World  died  in  peace.  Colum- 
bus died  broken-hearted;  Roldin  and  Bobadilla  were  drowned; 
Ovando  was  harshly  superseded;  Las  Casas  sought  refuge  in  a 
cowl;  Ojeda  died  in  extreme  poverty;  Nicuessa  perished  mis- 
erably by  the  cruelty  of  his  party;  Vasco  Nunez  de  Balboa  was 
disgracefully  beheaded;  Narvaez  was  imprisoned  in  a  tropical 
dungeon,  and  afterward  died  of  hardship;  Cortes  was  dishon- 
ored; Alvarado  was  destroyed  in  ambush;  Almagro  was  gar- 
roted;  Pizarro  was  murdered,  and  his  four  brothers  cut  off;  and 
there  was  no  end  to  the  assassinations  and  executions  of  the 
secondary  chiefs  among  the  energetic  and  daring  adventurers. 

F{EPI^ESBNIPAIPIVB    0)EN. 

William  L.  Yancy, — ^^He  was  born  at  Ogeechee  Shoals, 
Georgia,  August  lo,  1814.  He  went  to  Alabama  while  young; 
studied  law,  and  was  admitted  to  the  bar  at  Montgomery,  near 
which  city  he  afterward  resided;  edited  the  Cahawba  Democrat 
and  Wetumpka  Argus;  served  in  both  branches  of  the  State  Leg- 
ishiture,  and  was  a  Member  of  Congress  from  1844  to  1847.  He 
was  a  member  of  the  National  Democratic  Convention  at  Bal- 
timore, in  May,  1848.  He  was  a  member  of  the  Democratic 
Convention  at  Charleston,  in  April,  i860.  He  aided  in  the  nom- 
ination of  Mr.  Breckenridge,  and  advocated  his  election  before 
the  people.  He  was  a  member  of  the  Alabama  Convention,  in 
January,  1861.  On  February  27,  1861,  he  was  made  a  Commis- 
sioner to  the  Governments  of  Europe  to  obtain  the  recognition 
of  the  Confederate  States.  Returning  in  February,  1862,  he 
was  a  member  of  the  Confederate  Congress  until  his  death, 
which  occurred  near  Montgomery,  Alabama,  July  28,  1863. 

Augustus  H.  Garland. — He  was  born  in  Tipton  County, 
Tennessee,  June  11,  1832;  in  1833  his  parents  moved  to  Arkan- 
sas.    He  was  educated  at  St.  Mary's  College  and  St.  Joseph's 
30 


466  BIO  GRAF IIICAL  SKETCHES. 

Colleo-e,  in  Kentucky.  He  studied  law,  and  was  admitted  to 
practice  at  Washington,  Arkansas,  where  he  then  hved;  re- 
moved to  Little  Rock  in  1856;  was  a  delegate  to  the  State  Con- 
vention that  passed  the  ordinance  of  secession  in  1861,  and  suc- 
cessively of  the  Provisional  Congress  at  Montgomer}^  in  1861 
and  the  Confederate  Congress — first  in  the  Lower  House  and 
then  in  the  Senate — to  the  close  of  the  war.  In  1874  he  was 
elected  Governor  of  Arkansas,  and  in  1876  United  States  Sen- 
ator. He  was  re-elected  to  the  Senate  in  1883,  where  he  still 
serves. 

William  M.  Gwin. — He  was  born  in  Sumner  County,  Ten- 
nessee, October  9,  1805.  He  studied  medicine,  and  settled  at 
Vicksburg,  Mississippi,  where  he  was  appointed  United  States 
Marshall  in  1833.  He  was  a  member  of  Congress  from  1841 
to  1843.  He  removed  to  Califoi'nia  in  1848;  was  a  member  of 
the  California  State  Convention  in  1849;  elected  to  the  United 
States  Senate  in  1850,  and  re-elected  in  1856.  He  was  a  power 
in  that  State  for  many  years.  In  1861  he  was  arrested  for  dis- 
loyalty, and  released  in  1863.  He  was  created  a  "Duke"  by  the 
Emperor  Maximilian.     He  is  now  an  aged  inan. 

Isaac  Touce  y,  LL.D. — He  was  born  at  Newtown,  Connecti- 
cut, November  5,  1796.  He  received  a  common-school  education; 
adopted  the  law  for  a  profession,  and  was  admitted  to  practice 
in  1818,  at  Hartford.  He  was  a  member  of  Congress  from  1835 
to  1839;  was  Governor  of  Connecticut  during  1846  and  1847; 
was  United  States  Senator  from  1852  to  1857.  He  was  Secre- 
tary of  the  Navy  from  1857  to  1861.  He  has  been  accused  of 
collusion  with  Gen.  Floyd  in  sending  the  vessels  of  the  Amer- 
ican Navy  to  foreign  waters  previous  to  the  secession  movement 
of  the  Confederate  States,  but  there  is  no  proof  of  this.  He 
died  at  Hartford,  Connecticut,  July  30,  1869. 

Thomas  Francis  Bayard. — He  was  born  at  Wilmington, 
Delaware,  October  29,  1828.  He  was  chiefly  educated  at  the 
Flushing  school.  He  was  trained  for  a  mercantile  life,  but 
adopted  the  profession  of  law;  was  admitted  to  practice  in 
1851,  and  in  1853  was  appointed  United  States  District  Attor- 
ney for  Delaware.  In  1869  he  became  United  States  Senator, 
to  succeed  his  father — James  A,  Bayard.  He  was  re-elected  in 
1875  and  in  1881. 


REPRESENTATIVE  MEN.  467 

NatiiApNIEL  p.  Hill. — He  was  born  in  Oranjjc County,  New 
York,  February  i8,  1833.  He  was  educated  at  Brown  Univer- 
sity, and  was  a  professor  in  this  institution  from  i860  to  1864, 
Went  to  Colorado  in  1867,  as  Manager  of  the  Boston  and  Col- 
orado Smelting .  Company.  He  was  elected  to  the  United 
States  Senate  in  1879. 

Charles  W.Jones. — He  was  born  in  Ireland  in  1834,  antl 
emigrated  to  the  United  States  in  1844.  He  settled  atPensacola 
in  1854.  Admitted  to  practice  law  in  1857;  member  of  the 
National  Democratic  Convention  in  1873;  member  of  the  State 
House  of  Representatives  of  Florida  in  1874;  elected  to  the 
United  States  Senate  in  1875;  re-elected  in  i88i. 

Alexander  H.  Stephens. — He  was  born  in  Taliaferro 
County,  Qeorgia,  February  11,  i8i3.  He  was  educated  at 
Franklin  College,  graduating  in  1833  at  the  head  of  his  class. 
Began  the  practice  of  law  the  same  year  in  Crawfordsville, 
Georgia;  elected  Representative  to  the  Georgia  Legislature  in 
1836;  to  the  State  Senate  in  1843;  a  Representative  in  Congress 
by  the  Whig  party  in  1843,  and  served  until  1859,  when  he  re- 
signed. He  became  a  Democrat  in  1858;  supported  Stephen 
A.  Douglass  for  President;  elected  Provisional  Vice-president 
of  the  Confederate  States  February  9,  i86r,  and  permanent 
Vice-president  in  the  following  November.  He  is  the  author 
of  several  valuable  literary  works.  He  was  elected  succes- 
sively to  Congress  as  an  Independent  candidate,  and  in  opposi- 
tion to  the  regular  Democratic  nominee.  He  was  Governor  of 
the  State  of  Georgia  at  the  time  of  his  death,  March  4,  1883. 

Sydney  V.  Breese. — He  was  born  at  Newark,  New  Jersey 
— although  by  other  authority  the  place  of  his  birth  is  given  as 
Whitesboro,  Oneida  County,  New  York — on  July  15, 1800.  He 
removed  to  the  Territory  of  Illinois  previous  to  its  admission  to 
the  Union  in  1S18.  He  was  admitted  to  practice  law  in  1831. 
He  was  Assistant  Secretary  of  the  State  in  1822,  and  moved 
the  archives  of  the  State  from  Kaskaskia,  the  old  capital,  to 
Vandalia,  the  new,  in  a  French  cart.  All  the  State  papers  com- 
bined did  not  make  half  a  load.  In  1829  he  published  a  law- 
book, the  first  octavo  volume  ever  issued  in  the  State.  He  was 
a  Lieutenant-colonel  in  the  Black  Hawk  War;  elected  to  the 
Supreme  Court  in  1835;  United  States  Senator  from  1843  to 


468  BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCHES. 

1849;  Regent  of  the  Smithsonian  Institute  during  Polk's  ad- 
ministration; Speaker  of  the  IlHnois  Legislature  in  1850;  one 
of  the  originators  of  the  Illinois  Central  Railroad;  chairman  of 
the  Supreme  Court  from  1855  to  his  death,  in  1875.  -^^  '^^^  ^" 
ardent  Democrat  in  politics,  and  in  his  later  years  was  urged  by 
his  friends  as  a  nominee  for  the  presidency. 

Oliver  P.  Mortox. — He  was  born  in  Wayne  County,  Indi- 
ana, August  4,  1823.  His  family  name  was  Throckmorton,  but 
was  shortened  by  his  father.  He  was  educated  at  the  Wayne 
County  Seminary  and  the  Miami  University.  Began  the  prac- 
tice of  law  at  Centerville,  Indiana,  in  1847;  was  elected  a  Cir- 
cuit Judge  in  1852;  was  elected  Lieutenant-governor  of  the 
State  in  i860;  became  Governor  January  16,  1861;  re-elected 
Governor  in  1864  by  a  large  majority;  suffered  from  a  stroke  of 
paralysis  in  1865;  elected  to  the  United  States  Senate  in  1S67, 
and  again  in  1873.  He  was  noted  as  an  orator  and  a  man  of 
giant  intellect. 

William  B.  Allison. — He  was  born  at  Perry,  Ohio,  March 
2,  1829;  was  educated  at  the  Western  Reserve  College,  Ohio; 
studied  law  and  removed  to  Iowa  in  1857;  was  elected  to  Con- 
gress and  served  during  the  Thirty-eighth,  Thirty-ninth,  Fortieth, 
and  Forty-first  Congresses;  elected  United  States  Senator  in 
1873  and  re-elected  in  1878.     He  lives  in  Dubuque. 

Gen.  James  H.  Lane. — He  was  born  at  Lawrenceburg, 
Indiana,  June  22,  1814;  began  the  practice  of  law  in  1840;  en- 
listed in  May,  1846,  as  a  volunteer  in  the  war  with  Mexico. 
He  became  Colonel  of  his  regiment;  elected  Lieutenant-gov- 
ernor of  Indiana  in  1848;  was  a  member  of  Congress  from 
1853  to  1855;  moved  to  Kansas  in  1855;  chosen  chairman  of 
the  first  State  Convention  of  Kansas;  took  an  active  part  as  a 
leader  of  the  "Free  State"  troops  in  the  border  warfare  that 
followed.  After  a  singularly  stormy  and  adventurous  career  as 
leader.  Senator,  and  General,  he  committed  suicide  at  Leaven- 
ivorth,  July  11,  1866. 

Reverdy  Johnson. — He  was  born  at  Annapolis,  Maryland, 
May  21,  1796.  He  removed  to  Baltimore  in  1817;  was  United 
States  Senator  from  1845  ^^  1^495  again  elected  Senator  from 
1863  to  1868;  United  States  Minister  to  England  in  1868  and 
1869;  an  author  of  valuable  State  law-books. 


ItEPRESENTATIVE  MEN.  469 

John  J.  Crittenden.— He  was  born  in  Woodford  County, 
Kentucky,  September  lo,  1786.  He  served  in  the  war  of  181 3 
as  an  officer  in  Gen.  Hopkins's  division.  Ife  was  United  States 
Senator  for  Kentucky  from  1817  to  1819;  again  elected  Senator 
from  1835  *°  ^841,  and  continued  to  represent  his  State  in  vari- 
ous offices,  mostly  as  Senator,  part  of  the  time  as  Governor,  until 
his  death  at  Frankfort,  July  26,  1863. 

Pierre  Soule. — He  was  born  at  Castillon,  France,  in  i8ot. 
Destined  for  the  Roman  Catholic  clergy,  he  took  part  in  a  polit- 
ical conspiracy  at  the  age  of  fifteen,  and  was  obliged  to  aban- 
don his  studies.  He  settled  in  New  Orleans  in  1825;  began  the 
practice  of  law;  elected  United  States  Senator  in  1847;  ^^' 
elected  in  1849;  appointed  Minister  to  Spain  in  1853;  fought  a 
duel  while  in  Madrid  with  M.  Turgot,  French  Embassador; 
ofiended  the  Spanish  Government  by  his  action  relative  to  our 
trade  with  Cuba.  He  returned  to  this  country  in  1855.  He 
died  at  New  Orleans,  March  16,  1870. 

William  P.  Fessenden. — He  was  born  at  Boscawen,  New 
Hampshire,  October  6,  1806;  began  the  practice  of  law  in  1827; 
was  a  member  of  Congress  from  1841  to  1843;  was  United 
States  Senator  from  1854  to  the  time  of  his  death,  excepting 
his  term  as  United  States  Secretary  of  the  Treasury  from  July, 
1864,  to  March,  1865.  He  was  one  of  the  few  Republican  Sen- 
ators who  voted  for  the  acquittal  of  President  Johnson  on  his 
impeachment  trial.     He  died  at  Portland,  September  8,  1869. 

Charles  Sumner,  LL.D. — He  was  born  at  Boston,  January 
6,  1811.  He  began  the  practice  of  law  in  1834;  lectured  in  the 
Cambridge  Law  School  between  1835  and  1843;  succeeded 
Daniel  Webster  in  the  United  States  Senate  in  1851;  he  was 
assaulted  while  in  his  seat  in  the  Senate,  on  May  20,  1856,  by 
Preston  S.  Brooks,  of  South  Carolina,  and  so  severely  injured 
as  to  be  unable  to  resume  his  public  duties  for  three  or  four 
years.  He  resumed  his  seat  in  i860,  and  continued  a  leading 
man  in  the  Republican  party  to  the  date  of  his  death  on  March 
II,  1874. 

Zachariah  Chandler. — He  was  born  in  New  Hampshire, 
in  1813.  He  had  a  common-school  education.  He  went  to 
Detroit  at  the  age  of  twenty-two,  and  became  a  prosperous 
merchant.     He  was  first  a  Whig  and  then  a  Republican,  being 


470  BIOGEAPHICAL  SKETCHES. 

elected  United  States  Senator  for  the  State  of  Michigan  in  1856, 
and  continued  in  that  office  until  1875,  when  he  was  defeated 
as  Senator,  but  immediately  appointed  by  the  President  as  Sec- 
retary of  the  Interior.     He  died  at  Chicago  in  1879. 

William  Windom. — He  was  born  in  Ohio,  in  1827.  He 
moved  to  Minnesota  in  1855;  was  a  member  of  Congress  from 
that  State  from  185S  to  1868;  became  Senator  in  1870;  re-elected 
1871  and  1876;  resigned  in  1881,  to  become  Secretary  of  the 
Treasuiy  under  President  Garfield.  He  displayed  much  ability 
in  the  latter  position. 

Sergeant  S.  Prentiss. — He  was  born  at  Portland,  Maine, 
September  30,  1808;  graduated  at  Bowdoin  College  in  1826; 
moved  to  Mississippi  in  1827;  began  the  practice  of  law  in 
1829;  removed  to  Vicksburg  from  Natchez  in  1832;  elected  to 
the  State  Legislature  in  1835;  contested  for  a  seat  in  Congress 
with  Col.  John  F.  H.  Claiborne,  making  a  three  days'  speech 
before  the  House,  but  was  defeated;  elected  a  member  of  Con- 
gress in  1838;  his  distaste  for  political  life  led  him  to  resign  all 
further  political  effort  at  the  close  of  one  term.  He  strenuously 
opposed  the  repudiation  of  the  Mississippi  State  debt,  and  in 
part  from  his  dislike  to  that  measure  removed  to  New  Orleans 
in  1845.     He  died  at  Longwood,  Mississippi,  July  i,  1850. 

Thomas  H.  Benton. — He  was  born  near  Hillsborough, 
North  Carolina,  March  14,  1782.  He  attended  Chapel  Hill  Col- 
lege, but  before  completing  his  studies  removed  to  Tennessee; 
entered  the  profession  of  law,  and  served  one  term  in  the  Leg- 
islature of  that  State;  was  an  intimate  friend  of  Jackson  until 
"an  affray  with  pistols  and  daggers"  parted  them;  afterward 
exhibited  friendship  for  Jackson  in  the  United  States  Senate; 
removed  to  St.  Louis  in  1815.  He  established  the  Missouri  In- 
quirer, and  fought  a  number  of  duels,  in  one  of  which  he  killed 
his  opponent.  He  was  elected  United  States  Senator  in  1820; 
held  that  office  for  thirty  years  in  succession;  advocated  gold 
and  silver  currency  alone,  and  obtained  the  name  of  "Old  Bul- 
lion;" among  other  measui-es  advocated  were  the  pre-emption 
of  public  lands,  a  railroad  to  the  Pacific,  the  abolition  of  the 
salt  tax,  and  opening  of  mineral  lands  to  settlement.  He  sup- 
ported Buchanan  for  President  in  1856,  although  his  own  son- 


REPRESENTATIVE  MEN.  471 

in-law,  Gen.  Fremont,  was  the  opposing  candidate.     He  died 
at  Washington,  April  lo,  1858, 

Levi  Woodbury. — He  was  born  in  New  Hampshire  in  1789; 
graduated  at  Dartmouth  College  in  1809;  began  the  practice  of 
law  in  1813;  elected  Judge  of  the  State  Superior  Court  in  1816; 
elected  Governor  in  1833;  the  same  year  United  States  Senator; 
afterward  appointed  by  President  Jackson  as  Secretary  of  the 
Navy;  Secretary  of  the  Treasury  in  1834;  United  States  Sena- 
tor again  in  1841;  resigned  in  1845,  ^^^  become  the  successor  of 
Judge  Joseph  Story  in  the  United  States  Supreme  Court.  lie 
was  an  author  of  considerable  note,  and  a  Democrat  in  politics. 
He  died  at  Portsmouth,  September  7,  1851. 

Gen.  George  B.  McClellan. — He  was  born  at  Philadelphia, 
December  3,  1826.  He  was  educated  at  West  Point;  was  en- 
gaged in  the  war  with  Mexico;  sent  with  his  company  to  West 
Point  to  instruct  the  cadets  in  bayonet-exercise;  translator  of  a 
French  "  Manual  of  Arms  "  adopted  by  the  Government;  during 
1853  and  1853  explored  in  the  West  and  South-west;  following 
this  was  sent  to  various  foreign  countries  by  the  Government; 
became  a  Major-general  at  the  opening  of  the  war,  in  command 
of  troops  from  Ohio,  Indiana,  and  Illinois.  He  was  made  Gen- 
eral-in-Chief of  the  Federal  troops  November  i,  1861.  He  re- 
signed his  position  in  the  army  on  November  8,  1864;  was 
candidate  in  the  same  year  for  President  of  the  United  States; 
in  1868  made  his  home  at  Orange  Mountain,  New  Jersey,  and 
November  6,  1877,  was  elected  Governor  of  that  State,  filling 
the  chair  until  1881. 

Horace  Greei.ey. — He  was  born  at  Amherst,  New  Hamp- 
shire, February  3,  181 1.  Attended  a  common  school;  learned 
the  printer's  trade;  moved  to  New  York  City  in  1831;  became 
a  prominent  editor,  and  in  1841  he  founded  the  New  York 
Tribune;  he  advocated  Clay's  election  to  the  presidency  in  1844; 
was  a  member  of  Congress  in  1848-9;  favored  universal  am- 
nesty and  suffrage  at  the  close  of  the  war.  "  He  has  gained 
special  distinction  by  his  efforts  for  the  emancipation  of  labor, 
endeavoring  to  free  it  from  vice,  ignorance,  and  poverty."  In 
1872  he  was  nominated  for  the  presidency,  but  was  defeated, 
and  his  death  followed  soon  after  that  of  his  wife,  a  few  days 
after  the  close  of  the  campaign. 


472  BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCHES. 

Nathaniel  Macon. — He  was  born  in  Warren  County, 
North  Carolina,  in  1757;  completed  his  education  at  Princeton 
University;  returned  home  at  the  opening  of  the  Revolution; 
entered  the  Continental  Army.  He  w^as  elected  a  member  of 
the  General  Assembly  of  North  Carolina  from  1780  to  1785;  to 
the  United  States  Senate  from  1816  to  1828;  Speaker  of  the 
Senate  pro  tempore  from  1825  to  1828.  He  w^as  the  bosom  friend 
of  Jefferson  and  Madison,  and  John  Randolph  vs^as  devoted  to 
him.     He  died  June  29,  1837. 

Thomas  Corwin. — He  was  born  in  Bourbon  County,  Ken- 
tucky, July  29,  17945  removed  to  Ohio  in  1798;  reared  on  a 
farm,  with  very  limited' advantages  for  education;  began  the 
practice  of  law  in  1818;  was  a  member  of  Congress  from  1831 
to  1840;  was  Governor  of  Ohio  in  1841-2;  United  States  Sen- 
iator  from  1845  ^^  ^^S^'i  member  of  Congress  from  1859  to  1861. 
He  was  Minister  to  Mexico  in  1861,  but  came  home  on  the  in- 
vasion of  that  country  by  Maximilian.  He  was  a  man  of  great 
mental  force  and  acumen. 

Gen.  Edward  D.  Baker. — He  was  born  in  England,  in 
181 1 ;  brought  to  this  country  when  a  child;  practiced  law,  and 
was  a  member  of  the  Illinois  State  Legislature;  elected  a  mem- 
ber of  Congress  in  1844;  served  in  the  Mexican  war;  moved  to 
California  in  1852,  and  thence  to  Oregon,  where  he  was  elected 
United  States  Senator  soon  after.  He  entered  the  Federal  army 
at  the  beginning  of  the  war,  and  was  killed  at  the  battle  of 
Ball's  Bluff  in  1861. 

David  Wilmot. — He  was  born  at  Bethany,  Pennsylvania, 
January  20,  1814.  He  was  educated  at  Bethany  and  at  Aurora, 
New  York,  and  began  the  practice  of  law  at  Towanda,  Penn- 
sylvania, in  1834;  elected  a  member  of  Congress  from  1845  ^^ 
1851.  On  August  8,  1846,  he  inti-oduced  the  celebrated  "Wil- 
mot Proviso  "  in  a  resolution  before  the  House  of  Representa- 
tives, which  was  adopted,  but  failed  in  the  Senate.  This  began 
the  "Free  Soil"  controversy  which  ended  in  the  rupture  of  the 
Democratic  party.  He  was  appointed  a  Judge  of  the  United 
States  Court  of  Claims  in  1863.  He  died  at  Towanda,  Penn- 
sylvania, March  i6,  1868, 

Henry  B.  Anthony. — He  was  born  at  Coventry,  Rhode 
Island,  April  i,  1815;  is  a  graduate  of  Brown  University;  was 


BEPRESENTATIVE  MEN.  473 

elected  Governor  of  Rhode  Island  in  1849,  ^"^  re-elected  in 
1850.  He  was  elected  United  States  Senator  in  1859;  re-elected 
in  1864,  and  again  in  1870,  1876,  and  1882.  He  was  elected 
President  of  the  Senate  pro  tempore,  March  23,  1869,  and  again 
March  10,  1871.     He  died  at  Providence,  in  October,  1884. 

Wade  Hampton. — He  was  born  at  Charleston,  South  Car- 
olina, March  28,  1818.  He  is  a  graduate  of  the  South  Carolina 
College  at  Columbia;  was  a  member  of  both  branches  of  the 
State  Legislature  preceding  the  late  war;  served  in  the  Confed- 
erate army;  elected  Governor  of  South  Carolina  in  1876;  re- 
elected in  1878,  and  sent  to  the  United  States  Senate  the  same 
year.  He  is  universally  respected  and  admired  for  his  liberality 
and  justice  toward  the  colored  people. 

Andrew  Johnson. — He  was  born  at  Raleigh,  North  Caro- 
lina, December  29,  1808.  He  learned  the  trade  of  tailor;  never 
went  to  school  a  day  in  his  life;  was  taught  to  read  and  write 
by  his  wife.  In  September,  1826,  he  removed  to  Greeneville, 
Tennessee;  elected  to  the  State  Senate  in  1841:  member  of 
Congress  from  1843  ^^  ^^53'  Governor  of  Tennessee  from  1853 
to  1857;  United  States  Senator  from  1857  to  1863.  He  became 
President  of  the  United  States  April  15,  1865.  He  was  im- 
peached by  Congress,  but  acquitted  of  all  charges  on  May  26, 
1868.  He  received  the  degree  of  LL.D.  from  the  University 
of  North  Carolina  in- 1866.     He  died  in  1875. 

Saj^uel  Houston. — He  was  born  near  Lexington,  Virginia, 
March  2,  1793.  His  family  removed  to  Blount  County,  Tennes- 
see, in  1807,  where,  it  is  said,  he  was  adopted  into  the  Cherokee 
tribe.  (?)  He  served  under  General  Jackson  in  the  war  of 
1812-15;  began  the  study  and  practice  of  law  at  Nashville  in 
1818;  elected  member  of  Congress. from  1823  to  1827;  Gov- 
ernor of  Tennessee  from  1827  to  1829.  He  married  in  January, 
1829,  and  on  the  following  day,  without  previous  notice,  sud- 
denly abandoned  his  wife  and  home  and  fled  to  the  Cherokees, 
beyond  the  Mississippi.  He  visited  Texas  in  1833,  and  was 
made  Commander-in-chief  of  the  Texan  army  in  October,  1835; 
fought  the  remarkable  and  decisive  battle  of  San  Jacinto,  April 
21,  1836;  was  elected  first  President  of  Texas,  and  re-elected  in 
1841,  and  on  the  annexation  of  Texas  to  the  United  States  was 
sent  to  Congress;  was  elected  Governor  in  1859.     He  earnestly 


474  BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCHES. 

opposed  secession,  and  constituted  himself  a  body-guard  over 
Abraham  Lincoln,  to  prevent  his  assassination  when  the  latter 
was  inaugurated,  March  4,  1861.     He  died  in  1862, 

George  F.  Edmunds. — He  was  born  at  Richmond,  Ver- 
mont, February  i,  1828.  His  education  was  fair.  Began  the 
practice  of  law  in  1849;  chosen  to  the  Lower  House  of  the  State 
Legislature  from  1854  to  1859;  1861-2  in  the  State  Senate;  has 
been  a  member  of  the  United  States  Senate  since  1866. 

Gen.  Henry  A.  Wise. — He  was  born  at  Drummond,  Ac- 
comac  County,  Virginia,  December  3,  1806;  graduated  at  Wash- 
ington College,  Pennsylvania,  in  1825;  married  at  Nashville; 
afterward  returned  to  Virginia;  elected  to  Congress  in  1833;  in 
1837  was  the  "second"  of  Mr.  Graves,  who  shot  Cilley  in  a 
duel;  was  Minister  to  Brazil  previous  to  1847;  elected  Governor 
of  Virginia  in  1854.  In  December,  1859,  he  signed  the  death- 
warrant  of  John  Brown.  In  1861  he  tried  to  prevent  secession, 
but  failing  in  this,  he  cast  his  lot  with  his  State,  and  became 
Brigadier-general.     He  died  at  Richmond,  in  September,  1876. 

John  E.  Kenna. — He  was  born  at  Valcoulon,  West  Virginia, 
April  10,  1848;  brought  up  as  a  farmer;  after  the  close  of  the 
war  he  attended  St.  Vincent's  College,  Wheeling;  began  the 
practice  of  law  in  1870;  elected  a  member  of  Congress  from 
1881  to  1883;  elected  to  the  United  States  Senate  in  the  latter 
year.     He  lives  at  Kanawha. 

Matthew  H.  Carpenter. — He  was  born  in  Vermont,  in 
1824;  studied  law  with  Rufus.  Choate;  removed  to  the  State  of 
Wisconsin  in  1824;  elected  to  the  United  States  Senate  from 
that  State  in  1868;  re-elected  in  1879;  died  in  i88i.  He  was 
an  able  lawyer,  a  brilliant  ^lebater,  and  the  recognized  leader  in 
his  State. 

flMBI^IGAN    LilTBI^ATL 

Samuel  Woodworth. — He  was  born  at  Scituate,  Massa- 
chusetts, January  13,  1785.  He  had  a  very  limited  amount  of 
schooling;  removed  to  New  Hampshire  in  1807;  for  many  years 
followed  the  occupation  of  an  editor  and  publisher;  wrote  some 
popular  war-songs  and  ballads.  His  most  popular  production 
is  "The  Old  Oaken  Bucket."     He  died  on  December  9,  1S42. 


AMERICAN  LITERATI.  475 

Richard  Henry  Dana. — He  was  born  at  .Cambridge, 
Massachusetts,  November  15,  1787.  He  was  educated  at  Har- 
vard University  and  at  Newport,  Rhode  Island;  began  the 
practice  of  law  at  Boston,  in  181 1;  was  one  of  the  originators 
of  the  North  American  Review;  his  most  celebrated  production, 
"The  Buccaneer,"  came  out  in  1827:  he  died  February  2,  1879. 

James  Fennimore  Cooper. — He  was  born  at  Burlington, 
New  Jersey,  September  15,  1789.  In  1790  his  father  moved  to 
Cooperstown,  New  York.  At  thirteen  years  of  age  he  entered 
Yale  College;  at  the  end  of  three  years  he  left  college  and  en- 
tered the  navy;  after  six  years'  service  he  married  and  removed 
to  Mamaroneck,  New  York.  His  first  volume  appeared  in 
182 1,  and  was  rapidly  followed  by  others.  "The  Leather- 
stocking  Tales"  are  his  best  books.  He  died  at  Cooperstown, 
New  York,  September  14,  1851. 

Mrs.  Sara  J.  Hale. — She  was  born  at  Newport,  New 
Hampshire,  October  24,  1790,  was  married  in'i8i4,  and  widowed 
in  1822.  Her  first  book  was  published  in  1823,  and  in  1828  she 
removed  to  Boston  and  edited  the  Lady's  Magazine;  in  1837  this 
was  united  with  Godey's  Lady''s  Book,  of  Philadelphia,  and  she 
became  the  editor  of  the  latter,  removing  to  Philadelphia,  where 
she  remained  from  1841  to  the  close  of  her  life.  She  did  much 
charitable  and  philanthropic  work.  She  wrote  several  books 
of  established  reputation.     She  died  in  1881. 

Mrs.  Lydia  H.  Sigourney. — She  was  born  at  Norwich, 
Connecticut,  September  i,  1791.  She  enjoyed  great  educational 
advantages;  opened  a  young,  ladies'  school,  at  Norwich,  at  the 
age  of  eighteen;  removed  to  Hartford,  with  her  school,  in  1814; 
published  her  first  book  the  year  following;  was  married  in 
1819.  Her  i:)ublished  volumes  number  fifty-nine;  her  "Lectures 
to  Young  Ladies"  being  among  the  best  known.  She  visited 
Europe  in  1840,  and  died  at  Hartford,  June  10,  1865. 

John  Howard  Payne. — He  was  born  at  New  York,  June 
9,  1792,  and  adopted  the  profession  of  actor  and  dramatist.  His 
precocity  was  wonderful.  At  the  age  of  thirteen  years  he 
edited  a  weekly  newspaper,  following  the  business  of  a  count- 
ing-house clerk  at  the  same  time.  He  began  his  theatrical  ca- 
reer February  26,  1809;  visited  Europe  in   1812-13;  composed 


476  BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCHES. 

his  famous  ballad,  "Home,  Sweet  Home,"  while  in  London; 
edited  the  Opera  Glass,  in  London,  during  1826-7.  He  returned 
to  America  in  August,  1832;  appointed  Consul  to  Tunis  in  1841; 
recalled  in  1845;  re-appointed  in  1851.  He  died  at  Tunis, 
Africa,  April  10,  1852.  His  remains  have  recently  been  re- 
moved to  America  for  burial. 

Edward  Everett,  LL.D.,  D.C.L. — He  was  born  at  Dor- 
chester, Massachusetts,  April  11,  i794-  He  graduated  at  Har- 
vard University  in  181 1;  previously  was  a  pupil  of  Ezekiel 
Webster;  also  of  Dr.  Abbott's  Exeter  Academy;  became  tutor  at 
Harvard  in  1812;  was  ordained  pastor  of  the  Brattle-street 
Unitarian  Church  in  1814;  visited  Europe  in  1815:  delivered 
an  oration  on  "American  Literature"  in  1824,  at  which  La 
Fayette  was  present.  He  was  a  member  of  Congress  from 
1825  to  1835;  Governor  of  Massachusetts  from  1836  to  1840; 
Minister  to  the  Court  of  St.  James  from  1841  to  1845;  Secretary 
of  State,  as  successor  to  Daniel  Webster,  in  1852-53;  and 
United  States  Senator  from  that  time  until  forced  to  retire  by 
ill-health,  in  1854.  "Though  a  remarkable  example  of  varied 
culture,  Mr.  Everett  is  best  known  by  his  orations  and  addresses, 
which  are  models  of  grace  and  elegance  of  style."  His  most 
noted  work  was  the  collection  and  editing  of  the  speeches  of 
Daniel  Webster,  with  a  life  of  the  same.  He  learned  his  ora- 
tions by  heart,  and  it  is  related  that  he  would  direct  the  can- 
non to  be  fired  at  an  exact  period  of  time  in  his  Fourth  of  Jul}' 
speeches,  and  never  missed  it  five  seconds.  The  boom  and 
applause  would  come  in  at  the  proper  place  every  time.  He 
died  at  Boston,  January  15,  1865. 

William  Cullen  Bryant. — He  was  born  at  Cummington, 
Massachusetts,  November  3,  1794.  He  began  to  write  verses  of 
poetry  for  the  county  paper  before  he  was  ten  years  of  age.  Two 
of  his  celebrated  poems  were  published  in  his  fourteenth  year. 
At  eighteen  he  wrote  "Thanatopsis,"  justly  regarded  by  many 
as  his  finest  production.  He  attended  Williams  College  for 
two  years,  and  then  began  to  study  law;  admitted  to  the  bar 
in  1815,  and  began  to  practice  at  Plainfield,  Massachusetts; 
removed  soon  after  to  Great  Barrington;  attained  considerable 
distinction  as  a  lawyer,  but  his  tastes  led  him  to  abandon  that 
profession  for  a  literary  life.     He   removed  to  New  York  in 


AMERICAN  LITERATI.  477 

1825;  became  editor. of  the  Review,  and  in  1826  became  con- 
nected with  the  Evening  Post,  soon  after  obtaining  full  control 
of  the  same,  and  changed  its  politics  from  the  Federal  party  to 
the  Democratic.  Wrote  a  variety  of  articles  and  tales;  first 
edition  of  poems  came  out  in  1832;  visited  Europe  in  1834;  sub- 
sequently traveled  extensively  in  Europe  and  the  Holy  Land. 
His  writings  are  doubtless  more  universally  read  and  admired 
than  those  of  any  other  American  author.  He  died,  after  de- 
livering an  oration  on  the  erection  of  a  monument,  June  12, 
1878.     The  cause  of  his  death  was  sunstroke. 

Fitz-Greene  Halleck. — He  was  born  at  Guilford,  Con- 
necticut, July  8,  1790.  He  was  a  direct  descendant  of  the  cel- 
ebrated John  Eliot — the  "Apostle  to  the  Indians."  Educated 
at  an  academy  in  his  native  town;  at  the  age  of  eighteen  he  be- 
came a  clerk  in  the  banking  house  of  Jacob  Barker,  New  York. 
He  afterward  engaged  as  private  secretary  to  John  Jacob  Astor, 
and  was  made  one  of  the  trustees  of  the  Astor  Library.  He 
visited  Europe  in  1822-3.  His  most  celebrated  production  was 
•'Marco  Bozzaris,"  which  has  delighted  every  ambitious  school- 
boy's heart  since  the  day  it  first  appeared.  It  is  seldom  printed 
complete  in  the  collections,  however.  It  contains  one  hundred 
and  thirteen  lines.  Late  in  life  Halleck  became  a  Roman  Cath- 
olic.    He  died  at  Guilford,  November  19,  1867. 

George  Ticknor,  LL.D. — He  was  born  at  Boston,  Massa- 
chusetts, August  I,  1791.  He  graduated  from  Dartmouth  Col- 
lege at  the  early  age  of  sixteen  years;  was  admitted  to  practice 
law  in  1813;  went  to  Europe  in  1815  to  attend  the  University 
of  Gottingen,  Germany;  after  two  years  at  this  school  he  trav- 
eled extensively  throughout  Europe;  returned  to  America  in 
1820,  and  for  fifteen  years  was  Professor  of  Modern  Literature 
in  Harvard  University;  returning  to  Europe  in  1835,  ^^  began 
to  make  extensive  collections  of  Spanish  literature;  returning 
to  America  in  1840,  he  published  his  celebrated  "History  of 
Spanish  Literature''  in  1849.  ^^^^  ^^^  '^^  greatest  work  of 
his  life,  and  placed  him  in  the  rank  of  great  historians.  He 
died  at  Boston,  January  26,  1871- 

William  H.  Prescott,  LL.D. — He  was  bom  at  Salem, 
Massachusetts,  May  4,  1796.  He  came  of  a  celebrated  family, 
his  grandfather,  Col.  William  Prescott,  commanding  at  the  bat- 


478  BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCHES. 

tie  of  Bunker's  Hill.  He  graduated  froiii  Harvard  University 
in  1814;  decided  upon  a  literary  course  in  preference  to  a  jjro- 
fessiondl,  in  consequence  of  an  accident  to  his  eyes;  from  1815* 
to  1817  he  traveled  in  Europe,  finally  i-eaching  home  with  his 
€yes  permanently  impaired,  forcing  him  to  use  an  amanuensis. 
His  first  notable  work,  "Ferdinand  and  Isabella,"  appeared  in 
1838,  in  three  octavo  volumes;  the  "Conquest  of  Mexico,"  in 
1843;  the  "Conquest  of  Peru,"  in  1847;  "Histoi-y  of  Philip  II. 
of  Spain,"  in  1855  to  1858.  The  latter  work  was  incomplete  at 
the. time  of  his  death,  at  Boston,  Januai'y  28,  1859. 

Henry  Junius  Nott. — He  was  born  on  the  Pacolet  River, 
Union  District,  South  Carolina,  November  4,  1797.  His  father 
removed  to  Columbia,  and  he  was  educated  at  the  South  Caro- 
lina College.  He  began  the  practice  of  law  in  1818.  His  first 
literary  effort  was  the  publication  of  two  law-books  in  conjunc- 
tion with  D.  J.  McCord.  He  became  Professor  of  Belles-lettres 
in  the  South  Carolina  College  in  1824,  where  he  continued  for 
thirteen  years.  He  wrote  much  in  a  humorous  vein.  He  was 
drowned  on  the  wreck  of  the  steamer  "Home,"  off  the  coast 
of  North  Carolina,  October  13,  1837. 

Nathaniel  Greene. — He  was  born  at  Boscawen,  New 
Hampshire,  May  20,  1797.  His  educational  facilities  were  very 
limited.  He  began  to  learn  the  printer's  trade  in  1809,  and  was 
placed  in  charge,  as  editor,  of  the  Concord  Gazette  when  only 
fifteen  years  of  age;  after  various  adventures  and  changes  as 
editor,  he  removed  to  Boston,  and  on  February  6,  1821,  started 
the  Boston  Statesman,  which  met  with  great  favor  from  its  in- 
ception. His  published  volumes  have  been  largely  translations 
from  the  German  and  other  modern  languages. 

Samuel  Kettell. — He  was  born  at  Newburyport,  Massa- 
chusetts, August  5,  1800.  He  was  well  versed  in  modern  lan- 
guages; his  best  known  production  is  "  Specimens  of  American 
Poetry,"  and  includes  Cotton  Mather  and  Roger  Wolcott.  He 
was  self-taught,  and  mastered  fourteen  languages.  He  died  at 
Maiden,  Massachusetts,  December  3,  1855. 

Geokge  Bancroft,  LL.D. — He  was  born  at  Worcester, 
Massachusetts,  October  3,  1800.  He  graduated  from  the  Har- 
vard University  in  18 17,  before  he  had  completed  his  seven- 
teenth year,  and  the  following  year  went  to  the  University  of 


AMERICAN  LITERATI.  479 

Gottingen,  Germany,  where,  in  1820,  he  received  the  degree  of 
Ph.D.  After  two  years  of  European  travel  he  returned  to 
America.  His  great  work  is  a  '^History  of  the  United  States," 
the  first  vohime  of  which  appeared  in  1834  and  the  tenth  and 
last  volume  in  1874-  He  is  the  author  of  several  other  works 
of  great  importance. 

Frank  P.  Goodrich. — He  was  born  at  Boston,  December 
14,  1826.  He  graduated  from  Harvard  University  in  1845. 
His  first  volume  of  note  was  published  in  1854,  since  which 
time  he  has  put  forth  numerous  works  of  value  and  popularity. 
He  is  a  son  of  the  late  Samuel  G.  Goodrich,  the  celebrated 
*'  Peter  Parley." 

A.  B.  LoNGSTREET,  LL.D. — He  was  born  at  Augusta,  Geor- 
gia, September  22,  1790.  He  graduated  from  Yale  College  in 
1813;  studied  law  at  Litchfield.  Connecticut;  returned  to  Geor- 
gia, and  became  a  member  of  the  State  Legislature  in  1821;  en- 
tered the  ministry  of  the  Methodist  Episcopal  Church  in  1839; 
elected  President  of  Emory  College,  at  Oxford,  Georgia,  the 
same  year,  and  continued  as  such  until  1848.  He  was  President 
of  the  Centenary  College,  Louisiana,  and  also  the  Mississippi 
University  for  a  short  time;  was  President  of  the  South  Caro- 
lina College  from  1857  to  1861;  removed  to  Oxford,  Missis- 
sippi, where  he  died  September  9,  1870.  His  most  noted  book 
is  "Georgia  Scenes,"  while  all  of  his  writings  are  of  iJie  best 
quality. 

Albert  G.  Greene. — He  was  born  at  Providence,  Rhode 
Island,  February  10,  1802.  He  graduated  from  Brown  Univer- 
sity in  1820.  He  adopted  the  law  for  a  profession;  was  for 
many  years  connected  with  the  city  government  and  Judge  of 
the  Probate  Court.  His  most  popular  literary  production  is 
"Old  Grimes"  {''Old  Grimes  is  dead — that  good  old  man'');  an- 
other poem  of  great  value  to  school-boy  orators  is  "  The  Bar- 
on's Last  Banquet."  He  is  reputed  to  have  made  one  of  the 
finest  collections  of  American  poetry  ever  brought  together, 
and  contemplated  a  book  upon  the  subject,  but  his  life  came  to 
an  end  before  this  object  was  attained.  He  died  at  Cleveland, 
Ohio,  January  3,  i868. 

George  P.  Morris. — He  was  born  at  Philadelphia,  October 
10,   1802.     His  educational  advantages  were   limited.     He  re- 


480  BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCHES. 

moved  to  New  York  early  in  life,  and  began  his  literary  work 
soon  after.  His  life  was  spent  in  the  work  of  editing  and  pub- 
lishing a  variety  of  periodicals;  his  finest  literary  efforts  are  in 
the  way  of  songs  and  ballads,  fle  also  published  and  edited 
several  complete  volumes.  His  most  popular  poems  are 
"Woodman,  Spare  Jhat  Tree"  and  "My  Mother's  Bible." 
The  former  is  found  on  page  360  of  this  book.  He  died  at  New 
York  City,  July  6,  1864. 

Ralph  Waldo  Emerson,  LL.D. — He  was  born  at  Boston, 
May  25,  1803.  He  graduated  from  Harvard  University  in  1821; 
entered  the  ministerial  profession,  but  soon  abandoned  that  for 
literature;  is  widely  known  as  an  essayist  and  lecturer.  He 
visited  Europe  twice;  was  an  editor  for  a  short  period;  in  1850 
published  %  volume  entitled  "Representative  Men"  that  is 
highly  valued.  His  writings  are  noted  for  terseness,  compact- 
ness, and  directness  of  style.  He  received  the  degree  of  Doc- 
tor of  Laws  from  Harvard  University  in  1866. 

Mrs.  Lydia  Maria  Child. — She  was  born  at  Medford, 
Massachusetts,  February  11,  1802.  She  was  educated  at  the 
public  schools,  and  attended  one  year  at  the  academy  in  Med- 
ford. Her  brother,  Convers  Francis,  was  an  eminent  Unitarian 
divine.  In  1827  she  began  to  publish  a  magazine  entitled  The 
Juvenile  Miscellany.  "The  Frugal  Housewife,"  first  issued  in 
1829,  reached  thirty-three  editions  by  1855;  her  other  volumes 
have  attained  a  wide  circulation.  She  was  an  earnest  advocate 
of  anti-slavery  doctrines,  and  one  of  her  tracts  on  this  subject 
reached  the  enormous  circulation  of  three  hundred  thousand 
copies. 

Hugh  Swinton  Legare. — He  was  born  at  Charleston, 
South  Carolina,  January  2,  1797.  He  was  of  Huguenot  descent; 
was  very  precocious  in  his  studies,  entering  the  South  Carolina 
College  in  his  fourteenth  year:  graduated  at  the  head  of  his 
class  in  18 14;  finished  his  classical  studies  in  Edinburgh,  Scot- 
land; traveled  extensively  in  Europe;  practiced  law  in  Charles- 
ton; United  States  Minister  to  Belgium  from  1832  to  1836; 
member  of  Congress  from  1837  to  1839;  United  States  Attorney- 
general  from  1841  to  his  death.  He  wrote  extensively  for  cur- 
rent periodicals,  and  his  writings  were  published  and  edited  by 
his  sister  in  184.6.     He  died  at  Boston,  June  20,  1843. 


AMERICAN  LITERATI.  481 

William  Gilmork  Simms. — He  was  born  at  Charleston, 
April  17,  1806.  His  father  was  of  Irish  lineage;  he  began  to 
write  verses  at  the  age  of  seven  years;  his  educational  advan- 
tages were  very  poor;  he  began  the  study  of  law  at  the  age  of 
eighteen  years:  began  the  practice  of  law  in  1828.  He  began 
to  edit  the  Charleston  City  Gazette,  which  opposed  disunion  and 
secession,  and  rapidly  lost  favor,  coming  to  an  end  in  1832,  and 
leaving  Mr.  Simms  nearly  penniless.  His  most  famous  produc- 
tion is  a  poem  entitled  "Atalantis."  It  was  also  one  of  his  first, 
but  was  followed  by  many  others  nearly  as  good;  he  also  wrote 
numerous  tales,  historical  and  biographical  works,  also  "  Geog- 
raphy of  South  Carolina"  and  "A  Supplement  to  Shakespeare's 
Plays,"  and  a  large  number  of  short  articles  for  periodicals. 
He  died  in  Charleston,  June  11,  1870. 

Nathaniel  P.  Willis. — He  was  born  at  Portland,  Maine, 
January  20,  1807.  He  graduated  at  Yale  College  in  1827.  His 
father  was  in  many  respects  quite  as  noted  an  author  as  his  son, 
being  the  founder  of  The  Youth's  Companion,  the  first  child's 
paper  ever  published  in  the  world,  and  which  still  continues  in 
existence  with  the  largest  circulation  of  any  known  periodical. 
The  subject  of  our  sketch  began  his  literary  productions  at  an 
early  age;  established  the  American  Monthly  Magazine  in  1828; 
two  years  later  visited  Europe,  remaining  there  four  years;  on 
returning  to  America,  in  1835,  made  his  home  on  the  Susque- 
hanna River,  but  returned  to  New  York  in  1839.  He  spent 
the  remainder  of  his  life  as  editor  of  various  periodicals  and  in 
travel.  He  died  at  Idlewilde,  near  West  Point,  New  York, 
January  21,  1867.  Perhaps  his  most  popular  production  is 
"People  I  Have  Met."  He  was  a  voluminous  and  pleasant 
writer,  mostly  of  fiction  and  travels. 

Mrs.  Ann  S.  Stephens. — She  was  born  at  Derby,  Connec- 
ticut, in  the  year  18 13.  "  She  married  at  an  early  age,  and  re- 
moved to  Portland,  Maine,  where  she  commenced,  and  con- 
tinued for  some  time,  the  Portland  Magazine.''  Her  first  book, 
entitled  "The  Portland  Sketch  Book,"  appeared  in  1836.  She 
removed  to  New  York  City  in  1837.  "Mary  Derwent,"  a  tale, 
brought  her  a  prize  of  four  hundred  dollars.  Her  most  noted 
book  is  "Fashion  and  Famine,"  which  came  out  in  1854.  An 
edition  of  her  works  in  fourteen  volumes  was  published  in 
31 


482  BIOGEAFHICAL  SKETCHES. 

1869-70.  She  has  been  editor  of  a  number  of  periodicals,  and 
author  of  a  large  number  of  pleasing  poems.  She  is  the  author 
of  a  "Pictorial  History  of  the  War,"  which  had  a  fine  sale. 

Edgar  Allan  Poe. — He  was  born  at  Baltimore  in  January, 
181 1.  His  father,  who  was  an  actor,  died  while  he  was  quite 
young,  and  he  was  adopted  by  John  Allan,  a  wealthy  citizen 
of  Richmond,  Virginia.  He  spent  several  years  at  school  in 
England;  returning  to  America,  he  soon  after  entered  the  Uni- 
versity at  Charlottesville,  Virginia,  but  was  expelled  for  dissipa- 
tion before  the  completion  of  his  course.  He  next  went  to 
Europe  to  join  the  Greek  army,  but  returned  a  year  later  and 
obtained  a  cadetship  at  West  Point;  was  ignominiously  expelled 
at  the  end  of  ten  months,  but  kindly  received  by  his  foster- 
father,  who  in  turn  was  compelled  to  turn  him  out-of-doors 
soon  after.  He  published  his  first  volume  of  poems  in  1829; 
enlisted  as  a  private  soldier,  but  soon  after  deserted;  led  a  life 
of  adventure  and  destitution  for  several  years,  in  first  one  city 
and  then  another,  working  first  as  contributor  and  then  author 
creditor,  until  1845,  when  he  published  "The  Raven,"  which 
made  him  famous,  and  is  by  far  his  most  notable  production. 
He  died  at  Baltimoi'e,  October  7,  1849,  the  day  before  he  was 
to  have  been  married  for  the  second  time. 

Elihu  Burritt. — He  was  born  at  New  Britain,  Connecticut, 
December  8,  181 1.  He  received  a  common-school  education, 
and  at  the  age  of  sixteen  years  was  apprenticed  to  a  blacksmith. 
He  is  commonly  called  "The  Learned  Blacksmith."  He  taught 
himself  several  of  the  ancient  and  dead  languages  while  still  at 
his  trade,  and  for  the  purpose  of  more  rapid  progress  he  re- 
moved to  Worcester,  in  1837,  where  the  public  library  afforded 
him  suitable  books,  and  continued  to  work  at  his  trade.  In 
1844  he  became  the  editor  of  the  Worcester  Christian  Citizen; 
went  to  England  in  1846,  where  he  formed  the  "League  of 
Universal  Brotherhood,"  whose  object  was  to  put  an  end  to 
war  throughout  the  world;  took  a  prominent  part  in  all  the 
European  "Peace  Congresses,"  returning  to  America  in  1853; 
was  for  some  years  United  States  Consul  at  Birmingham,  Eng- 
land; lectured  extensively  in  Europe  and  America;  died  March 
7,  1879.  His  most  famous  book  is  probably  "  Sparks  from  the 
Anvil,"  which  appeared  In  1848. 


AMERICAN  LITERATI.  483 

Joel  T.  Headley. — He  was  born  at  Walton,  New  York, 
December  30,  1814.  He  graduated  at  Union  College  in  1839; 
studied  for  the  ministry  at  Auburn  Theological  Seminary;  trav- 
eled in  Europe  in  1842  and  1843;  brought  out  his  first  volume 
in  1844,  entitled,  "  Letters  from  Italy,"  which  was  soon  followed 
by  a  variety  of  historical  and  biographical  works,  all  of  which 
are  recognized  as  standard  literature.  Perhaps  the  xyork  most 
w^idely  known  is  "  Washington  and  His  Generals."  He  has 
been  somewhat  identified  with  the  political  history  of  his  State, 
^oth  as  legislator  and  Secretary  of  State. 

Mrs.  Harriet  Beecher  Stowe. — She  was  born  at  Litch- 
field, Connecticut,  June  15,  1812.  She  is  the  daughter  of  Dr. 
Lyman  Beecher;  her  family  has  shown  more  than  ordinary  lit- 
erary talent,  and  produced  some  of  the  most  famous  authors  of 
the  present  day;  she  became  assistant  teaclier  in  her  sister's 
school  at  Hartford  during  her  fifteenth  year,  where  she  con- 
tinued until  her  marriage  to  the  Rev.  Calvin  E.  Stowe  at  the 
age  of  twenty-one,  when  she  removed  to  Cincinnati,  Ohio, 
where  she  lived  several  years.  She  was  a  frequent  contributor 
to  periodicals,  and  had  already  published  "The  Mayflower,"  in 
1849,  when  her  great  book,  "Uncle  Tom's  Cabin,"  appeared  in 
1852.  It  has  been  translated  into  nine  different  languages;  has 
been  dramatized  in  twenty  different  forms,  and  acted  in  every 
capital  in  Europe  and  the  United  States.  She  has  been  a  volu- 
minous writer;  has  visited  Europe;  and  now  lives  at  Hartford, 
Connecticut, 

Henry  Barnard,  LL.D. — He  was  born  at  Hartford,  Con- 
necticut, January  24,  181 1.  He  graduated  from  Yale  College 
in  1830;  was  admitted  to  practice  law  in  1835;  visited  Europe; 
elected  to  the  State  Legislature  in  1837;  became  at  once  identi- 
fied with  the  cause  of  common-school  education;  for  several 
years  edited  the  Connecticut  Common-school  Journal;  from  1843 
to  1849  had  charge  of  the  public  schools  of  Rhode  Island;  be- 
came President  of  the  "American  Association  for  the  Advance- 
ment of  Education"  in  1855;  appointed  the  first  "Commis- 
sioner of  Education"  at  Washington,  in  March,  1867.  He  is 
the  author  of  a  large  number  of  works  on  educational  matters. 

Samuel  Stillman  Greene,  LL.D. — He  was  born  at  Bel- 
chertown,  Massachusetts,  May  3,  1810.  He  graduated  at  Brown 
University,  in  1837;  has  devoted  his  life  to  the  cause  of  educa- 


484  BIOaBAPHICAL  SKETCHES. 

tion;  has  been  prominently  connected  with  the  public  school 
system  of  Massachusetts  and  Rhode  Island;  is  the  author  of  a 
system  of  English  grammars,  which  have  doubtless  had  the 
widest  circulation  of  any  work  of  the  kind  in  America.  He 
resides  in  Providence. 

Richard  Henry  Dana,  Jr. — He  was  born  at  Cambridge, 
Massachusetts,  August  i,  1815.  On  August  14,  1834,  owing  to 
an  injuiy  to  his  eyes,  he  set  sail  on  a  two-years'  voyage  round 
Cape  Horn  to  the  western  coast  of  America.     Returning  in, 

1836,  he  again  entered  Harvard  University,  and  graduated  in 

1837.  In  1840  he  published  an  account  of  the  voyage  just  men- 
tioned in  a  volume  named  "Two  Years  Before  the  Mast;"  this 
is  probably  his  most  popular  book,  but  so  little  faith  did  pub- 
lishers have  in  it  at  the  time  that  he  only  received  two  hundred 
and  fifty  dollars  for  the  entire  copyright.  He  was  prominently 
connected  with  the  anti-slavery  agitation  of  1853  and  1854.  He 
has  written  much  and  been  favorably  received  by  the  public. 
He  has  been  connected  with  politics  to  a  large  extent  through- 
out his  life. 

Mrs.  Emma  D.  E.  N.  Southworth. — She  was  born  at  Wash- 
ington, December  26,  18 18.  Her  advantages  for  an  education 
were  limited,  her  father  failing  in  business  and  dying  while  she 
was  very  young.  She  was  married  in  1841;  thrown  upon  her 
own  resources  in  1843,  with  two  infants  to  support.  Her  first 
novel,  entitled  "Retribution,"  appeared  in  1849  and  established 
her  reputation  by  its  popularity.  This  successful  novel  was 
rapidly  followed  by  others,  most  of  which  describe  Southern 
life.  In  1853  she  removed  from  Washington  to  her  present 
home  on  the  Potomac  Heights,  near  Georgetown.  A  uniform 
collection  of  Mrs.  Southworth's  novels,  published  in  1872,  num- 
bered thirty-five  volumes. 

Mrs.  Emily  C.  Judson. — She  was  born  at  Eaton,  Madison 
County,  New  York,  August  22,  1817.  She  received  a  good 
education;  was  for  some  years  a  teacher  in  the  Female  Semi- 
nary at  Utica;  principally  celebrated  under  the  name  of  "  Fanny 
Forrester  "  in  her  literary  efforts.  She  married  Dr.  Adoniram 
Judson,  being  his  third  wife,  in  June,  1846,  and  immediately 
sailed  for  India.  She  wrote  the  "  Memoirs  of  Mrs.  Sarah  B. 
Judson."     She  died  at  Hamilton,  New  York,  June  i,  1854. 


AMERICAN  LITERATI.  485 

John  G.  Saxe,  LL.D. — He  was  born  at  Highgate,  Vermont, 
June  2,  i8i6.  He  graduated  at  Middlebury  College  in  1839; 
adopted  the  profession  of  law;  published  his  first  volume  of 
poems  in  1849;  brought  out  a  volume,  under  the  title  of  "Poet- 
ical Works,"  in  1864;  was  editor  at  one  time  of  the  Burlington 
Sentinel;  lives  at  present  in  Brooklyn,  New  York.  His  poems 
are  principally  celebrated  for  their  humor  and  wit.  His  most 
celebrated  poem,  without  doubt,  is  the  "Rhyme  of  the  Rail." 

Epes  Sargent. — He  was  born  at  Gloucester,  Massachusetts, 
September  27,  1812.  In  his  boyhood  he  accompanied  his  father 
on  a  voyage  to  Europe,  While  at  school  in  Boston,  with  the 
aid  of  other  boys,  he  started  a  small  weekly  paper,  called  the 
lAterary  Journal;  began  a  course  of  study  at  Harvard  Univer- 
sity, but  did  not  complete  it.  Soon  after  leaving  school  he  was 
employed  in  the  preparation  of  the  "Peter  Parley"  books  by 
their  author.  For  the  next  few  years  he  engaged  in  a  variety 
of  editorial  enterprises;  moved  to  New  York  City  in  1839;' 
afterward' resided  at  Roxbury,  Massachusetts.  He  has  since 
devoted  himself  largely  to  biographical  works,  his  Life  of 
Franklin  being  among  the  best.  He  has  also  attained  consid- 
erable notoriety  as  a  "play-writer"  and  lecturer;  but  his  most 
successful  and  widely-known  book  is  the  "  Standard  Speaker," 
which  is  in  use  in  all  schools  throughout  the  country.  Of  his 
poems  "The  Death  of  Warren"  is  among  the  best. 

John  Lothrop  Motley,  LL.D.,  D.C.L. — He  was  born  at 
Dorchester,  Massachusetts,  April  15,  1814;  graduated  at  Har- 
vard University  in  1831,  after  which  he  spent  a  year  each  at  the 
Universities  of  Gottingen  and  Berlin;  was  admitted  to  practice 
law  in  1836;  published  his  first  novel,  "Morton's'  Hope,"  in 
.  1839;  his  second  and  last  novel  appeared  in  1849,  entitled 
"Merry  Mount;  "  brought  out  his  great  work,  "The  Rise  of  the 
Dutch  Republic,"-  in  three  volumes,  in  1856;  then  his  work, 
"The  United  Netherlands,"  in  1861  and  1868.  These  were  es- 
sentially devoted  to  one  sub/ect,  and  have  placed  Mr.  Motley  in 
the  front  rank  of  modern  historians.  He  died  in  England,  May 
29,  1877.  * 

James  Russell  Lowell,  LL.D. — He  was  born  at  Cam- 
bridge, Massachusetts,  February  22,  1819;  graduated  from  Har- 
vard University  in   1838,   when    but   nineteen   years  of   age; 


486  BIOGBAPEICAL  SKETCHES. 

attended  the  Cambridge  Law  School;  began  the  practice  of 
law  in  Boston  in  1840;  published  a  volume  of  poems  in  1841; 
began  the  publication  of  an  illustrated  magazine  in  1843,  which 
proved  a  failure,  only  three  numbers  being  issued.  The  most 
of  his  writings  have  been  poetical.  He  has  also  obtained  con- 
siderable reputation  as  a  lecturer.  He  early  abandoned  law, 
and  has  steadily  devoted  himself  to  literature,  filling  for  some 
years,  and  succeeding  Mr.  Longfellow,  the  chair  of  Belles-let- 
tres at  Harvard  University.  He  became  United  States  Minis- 
ter to  Spain  in  1878,  and  still  later  transferred  to  the  Court  of 
St.  James,  and  now  resides  in  England. 

Captain  Henry  A.  Wise. — He  was  born  at  Brooklyn, 
New  York,  May  12,  1819.  At  the  age  of  fourteen  he  obtained 
the  appointment  of  midshipman  under  Captain  John  Percival, 
and  served  for  five  years  on  the  ocean;  served  on  the  coasts  of 
Florida  during  the  Seminole  war;  also  on  the  Pacific  coasts 
during  the  M'^ar  with  Mexico.  He  married  a  daughter  of  Ed- 
ward Everett;  in  1862  was  made  commander  of  a  vessel;  pro- 
moted to  the  rank  of  captain  in  1867.  He  published  "Los 
Gringos,"  his  first  volume,  in  1849;  "Tales  for  the  Marines," 
his  most  celebrated  book,  in  1855.  He  died  at  Naples,  April  i, 
1869. 

Herman  Melville. — He  was  born  at  New  York,  August 
I,  1819.  After  living  in  sevei^al  towns,  at  the  age  of  eighteen 
he  shipped  as  a  sailor  for  a  voyage  to  Liverpool;  led  an  advent- 
urous life  for  some  years  after  this  in  different  parts  of  the 
world,  finally  arriving  at  Boston  in  October,  1844;  his  first 
book,  detailing  his  adventures,  entitled  "Typee,"  was  published 
in  New  York  in  1846,  and  met  with  great  success.  This  was 
followed  by  a  large  number  of  tales  about  the  sea  and  of  advent- 
ures. His  most  popular  volume  was  perhaps  "The  Confidence 
Man."  In  1861  he  again  sailed  on  a  whaling  voyage  around  the 
world. 

Mrs.  Caroline  M.  SAWYER.-pShe  was  born  at  Newton, 
Massachusetts,  in  the  latter  part  of  the  year  1812;  received  her 
education  principally  at  home;  began  writing  at  an  early  age; 
was  married  to  Rev.  Dr.  T,  J.  Sawyer  in  1832  and  removed  to 
New  York;  afterward  to  Clinton,  New  York;  was  editor  for 
several  years  of  The  Ladies'  Repository,  of  Boston.  Many  of 
her  poems  exhibit  exquisite  taste. 


AMERICAN  LITERATI.  487 

Mrs.  Louisa  C.  Tuthill. — She  was  born  at  New  Haven, 
Connecticut,  in  1800.  She  married  Cornelius  Tuthill,  editor, 
of  New  Haven,  in  1817.  He  died  in  1825.  She  then  began  to 
contribute  to  magazines;  published  "James  Somers"  in  1827, 
"Mary's  Visit  to  Boston"  in  1829,  followed  by  quite  a  number 
and  variety  of  volumes,  including  "The  Nursery  Book"  for 
mothers  in  1849. 

Mrs.  Julia  Ward  Howe. — She  was  born  in  New  York, 
May  27,  1819.  She  was  carefully  educated  by  her  father,  Sam- 
uel Ward,  a  banker,  and  in  1843  married  Dr.  S.  G.  Howe,  and 
accompanied  him  upon  an  extensive  tour  of  Europe,  which  she 
revisited  in  1850.  She  published  her  first  volume  of  poems  in 
1854;  her  second  volume  in  1856 — since  that  time  publishing  a 
variety  of  works  in  prose  and  verse,  some  of  them  descriptive 
of  her  travels  in  various  parts  of  the  world.  Her  latest  work 
has  been  in  connection  with  the  "  Woman's  Suffrage  "  move- 
ment, and  she  is  said  to  be  one  of  the  best-known  American 
women  in  Europe.  Her  most  famous  production  is  the  "  Battle 
Hymn  of  the  Republic,"  sung  to  the  tune  of  "John  Brown." 

Mrs.  Sara  Jane  Lippincott. — She  was  born  at  Pompey, 
New  York,  September  28,  1823.  Her  early  years  were  passed 
at  Rochester,  New  York;  removed  to  New  Brighton,  Pennsyl- 
vania, at  the  age  of  nineteen;  married  to  Mr.  Leander  K.  Lip- 
pincott, of  Philadelphia,  October  17,  1853.  She  began  contrib- 
uting for  periodicals,  under  the  nom  de plume  of  "Grace  Green- 
wood," at  an  early  age.  Her  writings  are  characterized  by 
great  sprightliness  of  style,  and  are  the  expressions  of  a  prompt, 
generous  nature. 

Alice  Cary. — She  was  born  near  Cincinnati,  Ohio,  April 
26, 1820.  Her  early  life  was  spent  on  a  farm,  and  her  educational 
advantages  were  limited.  At  seventeen  years  of  age  she,  with 
her  sister  Phcebe,  only  thirteen,  began  to  write  verses  of  poetry; 
in  1849  they  published  a  book  of  poems  in  Philadelphia,  Alice 
assuming  the  nom  de  plume  of  "  Patty  Lee."  This  was  followed 
by  numerous  volumes.  They  removed  to  New  York  in  1850, 
where  they  lived  the  rest  of  their  days.  Perhaps  the  best- 
known  work  of  Alice  Cary  was  "  Clovernook  Children,"  a  series 
of  prose  sketches.     She  died  February  12,  1871. 


488  BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCHES. 

Phoebe  Cary. — She  was  born  near  Cincinnati,  Ohio,  Sep- 
tember 4,  1824.  She  wrote  about  one-third  of  the  poems  pub- 
lished under  the  name,  "Poems  of  Ahce  and  Phoebe  Cary." 
She  assisted  Dr.  C.  F.  Deems,  her  pastor,  in  editing  "Hymns  for 
all  Christians,"  in  1869,  and  prepared  "Poems  of  Faith,  Hope, 
and  Love  "  in  1868.  She  died  at  Newport,  Rhode  Island,  July 
31,  1871. 

James  T.  Fields. — He  was  born  at  Portsmouth,  New  Hamp- 
shire, December  31,  1817;  educated  in  the  High  School  of  that 
city;  received  the  degree  of* A.M.  from  the  Harvard  Univer- 
sity, in  1858;  delivered  two  notable  poems  before  the  Mercan- 
tile Library  Association  of  Boston;  became  a  partner  of  the 
publishing  house  of  Ticknor  &  Co.,  Boston,  afterward  known 
as  Fields,  Osgood  &  Co.  He  has  been  called  the  "poet's  pub- 
lisher of  America,"  and  compared  to  Moxon,  of  London.  He 
has  published  several  of  his  own  volumes  also,  which  have 
been  well  received.  He  was  editor  of  the  Atlantic  Monthly  from 
1862  to  July,  1870.  His  best-known  book  is  entitled,  "  Yester- 
days with  Authors." 

Andrew  A.  Lipscomb,  D.D.,  LL.D.  —  He  was  born  at 
Georgetown,  District  of  Columbia,  September  6,  1816.  He 
was  liberally  educated;  removed  to  Montgomery,  Alabama,  in 
1842,  where  he  became  widely  known  as  a  minister  of  the 
Methodist  denomination;  soon  after  this  he  removed  to  New 
York  City,  and  became  associated  with  the  Harper  Brothers  in 
their  publication  of  Harpefs  Magazine.  In  i860  he  became 
Chancellor  of  the  University  of  Georgia,  at  Athens,  where  he 
has  continued  to  reside  since.  In  1875  he  was  elected  to  the 
chair  of  Belles-lettres  in  Vanderbilt  University,  Nashville,  but 
resigned  on  account  of  ill-health  in  1880.  His  most  celebrated 
book  is  his  latest,  entitled,  "  Studies  in  the  Forty  Days." 

Donald  G.  Mitchell. — He  was  born  at  Norwich,  Connecti- 
cut, in  April,  1822.  He  graduated  from  Yale  College,  in  1841; 
spent  the  three  years  immediately  following  in  Europe;  studied 
law,  but  soon  after  abandoned  that  profession;  adopted  the 
nom  deplume  of  "Ike  Marvel;"  has  published  several  books  of 
travel,  written  on  agricultural  topics,  and  written  several  humor- 
ous books.  His  best-known  production  is  entitled,  "Reveries 
of  a  Bachelor."     He  resides  at  Edgewood,  near  New  Haven. 


AMERICAN  LITERATI.  489 

George  William  Curtis. — He  was  born  at  Providence, 
Rhode  Island,  February  24,  1824.  His  education  was  received 
at  Jamaica  Plain,  near  Boston;  at  the  age  of  fifteen  years  re- 
moved with  his  father  to  New  York;  spent  one  year  as  a  clerk 
in  an  importing-house;  removed  to  the  celebrated  "  Brook  Farm 
Association,"  in  1842;  visited  Europe  in  1846,  where  he  wit- 
nessed some  of  the  revolutionary  scenes  of  1848;  returned  to 
America  in  1850;  began  his  life  as  a  literary  writer  soon  after, 
and  became  widely  known  for  his  works  of  travel,  fiction,  and 
essays.  He  was  for  many  years  editor  of  Harper's  Magazine, 
succeeding  Dr.  Andrew  A.  Lipscomb,  and  since  1857  has  been 
editor  of  Harpefs  Weekly. 

Bayard  Taylor. — He  was  born  at  Kennett  Square,  Ches- 
ter County,  Pennsylvania,  January  11,  1825.  His  educational 
advantages  were  quite  limited;  at  the  age  of  seventeen  years  he 
was  apprenticed  to  learn  the  printer's  trade;  he  used  his  spare 
time  mastering  the  Latin  and  French  languages,  and  in  1844 
brought  out  a  little  volume  of  poems  entitled,  "Ximena."  The 
same  year  he  began  a  tour  on  foot  of  the  European  Continent, 
which  he  finished  in  1846.  This  furnished  material  for  his 
"  Views  Afoot,"  his  first  book  of  travel,  and  perhaps  his  best 
production  in  this  line.  He  published  numerous  volumes  of 
travel  in  the  succeeding  years;  wrote  "Hannah  Thurston,"  a 
tale  of  American  social  life;  is  the  author  of  numerous  poems, 
the  most  valued  of  which  is  "Faust" — translated  from  the  Ger- 
man, in  the  original  metres.  He  became  United  States  Minis- 
ter to  Berlin  in  1877,  and  died  there,  when  fifty-three  years  of 
age,  December  19,  1878. 

Richard  Henry  Stoddard. — He  was  born  at  Hingham, 
Massachusetts,  in  July,  1825.  His  educational  advantages  were 
very  meager;  he  lost  his  father  in  early  youth,  and  for  several 
years  thereafter  worked  in  an  iron  foundry  in  the  city  of  New 
York;  afterward  held  a  position  in  the  custom-house;  began  to 
contribute  to  the  periodicals  of  the  day  in  1848;  married  Eliza- 
beth Drew,  a  poetess  of  considerable  fame,  in  1852;  has  pub-* 
lished  numerous  volumes  of  both  prose  and  poetry;  was  the 
editor  of  the  Aldine,  the  leading  art  journal  of  America  for  sev- 
eral years.  "The  King's  Bell"  is  probably  his  most  famous 
pfoduction. 


490  BIOaRAPHICAL  SKETCHES. 

Thomas  B.  Read. — He  was  born  in  Chester  County,  Penn- 
sylvania, March  12,  1822.  His  education  was  confined  to  the 
common  district  school.  At  the  age  of  seventeen  years  he  vv^ent 
to  Cincinnati,  Ohio,  and  obtained  a  position  with  Clevinger,  the 
sculptor;  removed  to  New  York  in  1841;  lived  in  Boston  from 
1842  to  1846,  and  began  to  write  poems  for  the  Courier;  re- 
moved to  Philadelphia  in  1846,  and  brought  out  his  first  volume 
of  poems  in  1847;  another  volume  followed  in  1848,  and  he  has 
wi'itten  much  since  that  time.  His  most  famous  production  is 
a  war-poem,  entitled,  "  Sheridan's  Ride." 

Paul  H.  Hayne. — He  was  born  at  Charleston,  South  Caro- 
lina, January  i,  1831.  He  is  a  nephew  of  the  late  Governor 
Robert  Y.  Hayne,  celebrated  for  his  debate  in  Congress  with 
Daniel  Webster;  was  educated  in  his  native  city;  began  at  an 
early  age  to  contribute  to  the  Southern  Literary  .Messenger  and 
other  periodicals;  was  editor  first  of  the  Charleston  Literary 
Gazette,  afterward  of  the  Evening  News,  and  finally  of  EusselVs 
Magazine.  His  first  collected  volume  of  poems  was  issued  in 
1855;  his  last,  complete  edition,  was  issued  in  1881.  His  health 
has  been  very  poor  for  some  years  past.  He  made  a  collection 
of  the  poems  of  Henry  Timrod  in  1873. 

Henry  Ward  Beecher. — He  was  born  at  Litchfield,  Con- 
necticut, June  24,  1813;  graduated  from  Amherst  College  in 
1834;  studied  theology  under  his  father,  Dr.  Lyman  Beecher, 
in  the  Lane  Seminary,  at  Cincinnati;  was  settled  as  pastor  of 
the  Presbyterian  Church,  at  Lawrenceburg,  Indiana,  in  1837; 
became  pastor  of  the  Plymouth  Church,  Brooklyn,  Long  Island, 
in  1847,  where  he  still  remains.  He  has  been  a  voluminous 
writer  of  prose  essays,  religious  books,  novels,  and  a  popular 
lecturer.  He  was  for  many  years  an  ardent  Republican  in 
politics,  but  changed  to  the  Democratic  party  in  1884. 

John  L.  McConnell. — He  was  born  in  IlHnois,  November 
II,  1826.  His  early  education  was  under  the  guidance  of  his 
father.  Judge  Murray  McConnell,  with  whom  he  studied  law, 
and  afterward  graduated  at  the  Transylvania  University  Law 
School,  Lexington,  Ky.  He  served  in  the  Mexican  war;  prac- 
ticed law  at  Jacksonville,  Illinois;  wrote  several  noted  works 
of  fiction,  founded  on  Western  life  and  character;  wrote  bio- 
graphical and  historical  sketches;  died  January  17,  1862. 


AMERICAN  LJTMRATI.  491 

Henry  Timrod.— He  was  born  at  Charleston,  South  Caro- 
lina,  December  8,"  1829.  His  father  was  also  a  poet  of  some 
reputation.  He  received  his  early  schooling  in  Charleston; 
entered  the  University  of  Georgia  before  he  was  seventeen 
years  of  age,  but  was  forced  by  poverty  to  abandon  his  studies 
and  enter  the  struggle  of  life;  he  was  for  ten  years  private 
tutor  in  various  Southern  families;  was  a  frequent  contributor 
to  the  Southern  Literary  Messenger ;  published  his  first  collected 
volume  of  poems  at  Boston  in  i860;  he  was  a  writer  of  numer- 
ous poems  during  the  war,  the  most  popular  of  which  is  un- 
doubtedly the  one  entitled  "Carolina;"  he  died  at  Columbia, 
South  Carolina,  October  8,  1867. 

Robert  T.  S.  Lowell. — He  was  born  at  Boston,  Massa- 
chusetts, October  9,  1816.  He  is  an  elde'r  brother  of  James 
Russell  Lowell.  He  graduated  from  the  Harvard  University 
in  1833.  He  first  studied  medicine;  then  theology;  was  ordained 
in  the  Episcopal  Church  in  1842;  was  chaplain  to  the  Bishop 
of  Newfoundland  and  Bermuda;  resided  for  some  time,  as 
rector,  at  Bay  Roberts,  Island  of  Newfoundland;  afterward 
of  churches  in  New  Jersey,  New  York,  and  Massachusetts. 
His  first  work  was  a  novel,  entitled  "The  New  Priest;"  has 
written  numerous  poems  of  acknowledged  worth,  one  of  the 
best  known  being  "The  Relief  of  Lucknow." 

JosiAH  G.  Holland,  M.D. — He  was  born  at  Belchertown, 
Massachusetts,  July  24,  1819.  He  was  educated  at  the  public 
schools,  and  was  obliged  to  relinquish  a  college  course  owing 
to  ill-health;  studied  medicine,  and  graduated  at  the  Berkshire 
Medical  College  in  1844;  in  1848  he  was  Superintendent  of  the 
Public  Schools  of  Vicksburg,  Miss;  in  1849  became  editor  of 
the  Springfield  Republican;  in  1870,  editor  of  Scribner's  Monthly; 
has  published  one  historical  work,  a  large  number  of  novels, 
and  one  volume  of  poetry,  entitled  "Kathrina,"  which  has  had 
the  largest  sale  of  any  of  his  books.  He  has  been  a  popular 
lecturer  throughout  the  Union;  he  died  October  12,  1881. 

James  Parton. — He  was  born  at  Canterbury,  England, 
February  9,  1822.  Removed  with  his  people  to  New  York  in 
1827;  educated  principally  at  the  White  Plains  Academy,  where 
he  became  a  teacher  at  the  age  of  nineteen  years;  he  afterward 
taught  school  in  both  Philadelphia  and  New  York;  was  for 


492  BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCHES. 

three  years  employed  at  editorial  work  for  the  Home  Journal,  of 
New  York;  his  first  published  volume  was  "The  Life  of 
Horace  Greeley,"  in  1855.  ^^  ^%7  ^^  brought  out  "The  Hu- 
morous Poetry  of  the  English  Language,"  followed  by  his  most 
celebrated  work,  "The  Life  and  Times  of  Aaron  Burr;"  these 
were  followed  by  numerous  volumes  almost  equally  celebrated, 
that  of  "  Gen.  Butler  in  New  Orleans,"  in  1863,  being  one  of 
the  best  known  of  his  later  works.  He  is  extensively  known 
as  an  essayist  and  biographer,  and  is  a  very  popular  lecturer. 

Henry  Coppee,  LL.D. — He  was  born  at  Savannah,  Georgia, 
October  15,  182 1.  He  entered  the  sophomore  class  of  Yale  Col- 
lege in  1836,  but  left  it  in  1837;  graduated  from  the  West  Point 
Military  Academy  in  1845;  served  through  the  Mexican  war, 
obtaining  the  title  of  "Captain"  for  meritorious  services;  em- 
ployed after  the  close  of  the  Mexican  war  as  instructor  in 
French  and  other  branches  until  1855;  for  eleven  years  follow- 
ing this.  Professor  of  Belles-lettres  in  the  University  of  Pennsyl- 
vania; after  that.  President  of  the  Lehigh  University,  Pennsyl- 
vania. His  chief  works  are  on  military  subjects;  also  several 
popular  text-books  for  colleges;  a  biography  of  Gen.  Grant; 
and  edited  several  volumes  of  poetry. 

William  Henry  Milburn,  D.D. — He  was  born  at  Phila- 
delphia, September  26,  1823.  In  1827  his  father  removed  to 
Jacksonville,  Illinois,  where  our  subject  began  his  education 
under  great  disadvantages,  after  having  irretrievably  injured 
his  eyesight.  He  pursued  his  studies  at  the  Illinois  College, 
until  compelled  by  failing  health,  in  1843,  to  abandon  his  pur- 
pose; entered  the  itinerant  ministry  of  the  Methodist  Church 
immediately  thereafter;  became  chaplain  to  Congress  in  1846; 
established  in  Montgomery,  Alabama,  as  pastor,  in  1848;  re- 
moved to  New  York  in  1854;  began  the  career  of  a  public 
lecturer,  and  in  1859  drew  crowded  houses  in  England,  where 
he  became  popularly  known  as  the  "Blind  Preacher."  His  first 
book,  "  Rifle,  Ax,  and  Saddle-bags,"  published  in  1857,  is  most 
widely  known.  He  is  now  engaged  exclusively  as  a  lecturer, 
his  great  lecture  being  "What  a  Blind  Man  Saw  in  Europe." 
He  has  visited  Europe  several  times. 

Sara  Payson  Willis. — She  was  born  at  Portland,  Maine, 
July  7,  i8ii.     She  was  educated  at  the  Hartford  Seminary,  of 


AMERICAN  LITERATI.  493 

which  Miss  Catherine  E.  Beecher  was  principal,  and  Harriet 
Beecher  a  teacher;  in  1834  she  was  married  to  Mr.  Charles  El- 
dridge,  of  Boston;  left  a  widow  twelve  years  later,  with  two 
children  to  support  by  her  unaided  exertions;  began  to  write 
under  the  name  of  "Fanny  Fern "  in  1851;  "Ruth  Hall,"  a 
novel,  came  out  in  1857,  and  has  been  severely  criticised  as  an 
effort  to  slander  her  father's  good  name;  the  same  year  she  pub- 
lished "Rose  Clarke,"  and  both  books  were  well  received.  In 
1854  she  contracted  with  Robert  Bonner  to  write  an  article  for 
each  number  of  the  New  York  Ledger,  and  for  eighteen  years 
she  fulfilled  the  agreement,  without  a  failure.  Her  book  en- 
titled "  Fern  Leaves  "  is  said  to  have  had  a  circulation  of  more 
than  one  hundred  and  thirty  thousand  copies.  She  married 
James  Parton  in  1856,  but  soon  afterward  was  parted  from  him, 
and  her  conjugal  relations  are  popularly  reported  to  have  been 
any  thing  but  harmonious.     She  died  October  10,  1872, 

Robert  Shklton  McKenzie,  M,D,,  D.C.L.,  LL.D. — He 
was  born  at  Drew's  Court,  Limerick  County,  Ireland,  June  22, 
1809;  educated  at  a  school  in  Fermoy;  apprenticed  at  the  age 
of  thirteen  years  to  an  apothecary  in  Cork;  in  1829  became 
editor  of  a  paper  in  Staffordshire,  England;  was  English  cor- 
respondent of  the  New  York  Evening  Star  between  1834  and 
185 1 ;  came  to  America  in  1852;  editor  of  the  Philadelphia,  Press 
in  1857;  the  author  of  numerous  works,  both  in  England  and 
America.  Perhaps  his  best-known  book  is  "  Bits  of  Blarney," 
published  in  1855;  has  edited  a  large  number  of  books  from  other 
authors.  His  wife,  Mrs.  Adelheid,  is  a  novelist  of  some  reputation. 

Mrs.  Louisa  Chandler  Moulton. — She  was  born  at  Pom- 
fret,  Connecticut,  in  the  year  1835.  -^^^  early  education  was 
limited,  but  she  displayed  precocious  talents  as  a  writer,  and  be- 
gan to  contribute  for  popular  periodicals,  under  the  name  of 
"Ellen  Louise,"  at  the  age  of  fifteen,  her  first  collected  volume 
of  prose  and  poetry  appearing  in  1854,  when  she  was  nineteen 
years  of  age;  she  was  married  to  Mr.  William  U.  Moulton,  a 
Boston  publisher,  in  1855;  she  became  a  regularly  employed 
contributor  to  Harper's  Magazine  and  Harper's  Weekly  in  1856; 
of  late  years,  the  contributor  of  literary  notes  from  Boston  to 
the  New  York  Tribune.  Her  "  Bed-time  Stories,"  brought  out 
in  1873,  is  her  most  popular  book. 


494  BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCHES. 

Theodore  Winthrop. — He  was  born  at  New  Haven,  Con- 
necticut, September  21,  1828.  Entered  the  freshman  class  of 
Yale  College  in  his  sixteenth  year,  and  graduated  in  1848;  im- 
mediately visited  Europe;  returning  in  1851,  he  afterward  be- 
came a  clerk  in  the  establishment  of  Mr.  Aspinwall,  at  New 
Yoi'k;  resided  two  years  in  Panama,  in  the  employment  of  the 
Pacific  Steamship  Company;  visited  California  and  the  Pacific 
Coast,  and,  after  aiding  in  the  unfortunate  expedition  under 
Lieut.  Strain  to  explore  the  Isthmus  of  Darien,  he  returned  to 
New  York  in  1854,  and  was  admitted  to  the  practice  of  law. 
He  was  the  author  of  several  very  popular  and  fascinating 
novels,  the  most  popular  of  which  is  "John  Brent,"  a  tale  of 
Western  life.  He  was  killed  in  the  Federal  army,  at  the  battle 
of  Great  Bethel,  Virginia,  June  10,  1861. 

Charles  G.  Leland. — He  was  born  at  Philadelphia,  August 
15,  1824.  He  graduated  at  the  New  Jersey  College  in  1845; 
afterward  visited  Europe,  and  studied  at  various  universities; 
was  in  Paris  during  the  revolution  of  1848;  returned  to  Phila- 
delphia and  studied  law.  He,  however,  abandoned  that  profes- 
sion and  has  since  devoted  his  life  to  literary  pursuits.  He  has 
written  copiously  in  both  prose  and  verse,  one  of  his  best-known 
books  being  "  Meister  Karl's  Sketch  Book,"  which  came  out  in 
1856.     A  very  popular  poem  is  "  Hans  Breitmann's  Party." 

Thomas  B.  Aldrich. — He  was  born  at  Portsmouth,  New 
Hampshire,  November  11,  1836.  He  early  removed  to  Louisi- 
ana, and  was  preparing  to  enter  college  when  the  death  of  his 
father  made  it  necessary  for  him  to  become  a  clerk  in  a  store  in 
New  York,  three  years  later  becoming  proof-reader  for  a  pub- 
lishing house;  still  later  employed  on  the  editorial  staflf  of  the 
Home  Journal,  and  also  of  the  Saturday  Press  and  the  Evening 
Mirror;  wrote  numerous  poems  and  works  of  fiction,  among 
the  most  popular  of  which  may  be  mentioned  "The  Story  of  a 
Bad  Boy  "  and  "  Cloth  of  Gold."  He  lives  at  present  at  Cam- 
bridge, Massachusetts. 

Evert  A.  Duyckinck. — He  was  born  at  New  York  City, 
November  23,  1816.  He  graduated  from  Columbia  College  in 
1835.  ^^  "^^s  the  son  of  George  L.  Duyckinck,  a  prominent 
publisher  of  New  York  in  the  early  part  of  the  present  centuiy. 
He  was  admitted  to  practice  law  in   his  native  city  in  1837; 


AMERICAN  LITERATI.  496 

spent  one  year  traveling  in  Europe;  from  1840  to  1842,  in  con- 
nection with  Cornelius  Matthews,  published  the  Arcturu9,  a 
literary  journal  of  high  order;  became  editor  of  the  Literary 
World  in  1847.  ^*^  great  work,  the  "  Cyclopedia  of  American 
Literature,"  appeared  in  1856,  and  has  been  repeatedly  revised, 
but  remains  to-day  the  only  complete  work  on  this  subject. 
He  is  the  author  and  editor  of  a  variety  of  useful  works  of 
standard  reputation. 

Samuel  A.  Allibone. — He  was  born  at  Philadelphia,  April 
17,  1816.  He  was  educated  for,  and  for  many  years  followed, 
a  mercantile  life;  labored  for  sixteen  years  preparing  his  great 
work,  entitled  "A  Critical  Dictionary  of  English  Literature  and 
British  and  American  Authors."  The  first  volume  appeared  in 
December,  1858,  and  is  acknowledged  as  the  greatest  work  of 
the  kind  extant.  It  was  completed  and  the  last  volume  pub- 
lished in  187 1.  He  is  also  the  author  of  numerous  other  works 
of  value,  mostly  in  the  line  of  dictionaries  and  commentaries. 

Samuel  Francis  Smith. — He  was  born  at  Boston,  October 
21,  1808.  He  graduated  from  the  Harvard  University  in  1829. 
He  studied  theology  at  Andover  Seminary,  and  afterward,  for 
one  year  and  a  half,  edited  the  Baptist  Missionary  Magazine,  at 
Boston;  was  pastor  of  the  Baptist  Church  at  Waterviile,  Maine, 
from  1834  to  1842;  engaged  the  rest  of  his  life  at  various  points 
in  pastoral  and  literary  pursuits,  including  that  of  editor  for  the 
"Baptist  Missionary  Union;"  in  connection  with  Rev.  Baron 
Stow  was  the  compiler  of  "  The  Psalmist,"  a  collection  of  hymns 
still  in  general  use  with  many  Baptist  churches.  He  is  the 
author  of  many  standard  hymns,  the  most  celebrated  of  which 
is  our  national  hymn,  "My  Country,  'Tis  of  Thee."  A  few 
years  since  he  made  a  voyage  round  the  world,  visiting  his  son, 
who  is  a  missionary  in  India,  and  also  the  Rev.  John  E.  Clough, 
missionary  to  the  Teloogoos.  At  the  latter  place  he  baptized 
ninety-five  native  converts  at  one  time,  by  permission  of  the 
missionary. 

Noah  Porter,  D.D.,  LL.D. — He  was  born  at  Farmington, 
Connecticut,  in  1811.  He  graduated  from  Yale  College  in  1831; 
studied  theology  and  became  pastor  of  the  Congregational 
Church  in  New  Milford,  Connecticut;  was  "Clark"  professor 
of  Moral  Philosophy  and  Metaphysics  in  Yale  College  from 


496  BIOGBAPSICAL  SKETCHES. 

1846  to  1871;  was  elected  in  1871  to  succeed  Dr.  Woolsey  as 
president  of  Yale  College.  He  is  the  author  of  numerous 
works  of  a  psychological  character,  the  gi-eatest  one  being  en- 
titled "The  Human  Intellect,"  published  in  1868.  He  has  also 
been  one  of  the  editors  of  Webster's  Dictionary. 

Robert  Dale  Owen. — He  was  born  at  Glasgow,  Scotland, 
November  7,  1801.  He  was  educated  at  the  college  of  Hofwyl, 
about  two  leagues  from  Berne,  Switzerland.  He  came  to 
America  in  1825,  and  located  at  New  Hannony,  Indiana;  was 
elected  to  the  State  Legislature  in  1835;  was  a  member  of  Con- 
gress from  1843  to  1847;  was  prominent  in  the  organization  of 
the  Smithsonian  Institute  and  one  of  its  first  regents;  was  a 
prominent  participant  in  the  discussion  of  all  the  leading  na- 
tional questions  just  preceding  the  late  w^ar;  wrote  extensively 
for  leading  periodicals;  issued  several  bound  volumes;  wrote 
one  novel,  entitled  "Beyond  the  Breakers;"  was  an  advocate 
of  spiritualism. 

Richard  Grant  White. — He  was  born  in  New  York  City, 
May  23,  1822.  He  graduated  at  the  University  of  New  York 
in  1839.  He  studied  medicine  and  law,  being  admitted  to  the 
practice  of  the  latter  in  1845;  ^^  soon  abandoned  law  for  a  life 
of  literary  work,  which  he  has  since  pursued;  from  1845  to 
1859  he  was  connected  with  the  New  York  Courier  and  Enquirer; 
in  connection  with  J.  R.  Spalding,  in  i860,  he  established  the 
New  York  World,  but  withdrew  from  it  in  1861;  was  a  regular 
and  frequent  contributor  during  all  these  years  to  the  magazines 
and  other  literary  periodicals  of  the  day.  He  was  at  one  time 
connected  with  the  New  York  Custom  House;  has  taken  an 
active  part  in  politics;  has  devoted  much  of  his  time  to  the 
study  of  Shakespeare  and  the  English  language.  Most  of  his 
published  books  are  of  this  character. 

John  T.  Trowbridge. — He  was  born  at  Ogden,  New  York, 
September  18,  1827.  Brought  up  on  a  farm;  removed  to  New 
York  City  at  the  age  of  nineteen;  assumed  the  nom  de  plume  of 
"Paul  Creyton;  "  editor  of  Our  Young  Folks  for  some  time;  has 
published  many  novels  and  stories  for  young  folks;  his  first 
book  was  "Father  Brighthopes,"  in  1853;  he  is  the  author  of 
"  The  Vagabonds,"  or  "  Roger  and  I; "  his  best  work  is  "  Doing 
his  Best." 


VI  G/V^/w^    V/. 


0-w 


>J 


FOR  "THE  cornucopia: 


AMli-iM ' 


497 


I^BNI^Y  CX)ADSWOI^>PH    ilO:>IG FALLOW,   JUIi.D. 

He  was  born  at  Portland,  Maine,  Fcl>'  ".  1807.     He 

graduated  from  Bowdoin  College  in  1825.    1  his  literary 

productions  at  an  early  age,  his  most  noted  juvenile  po«in» 
being  "Hymns  of  the  Moravian  Nuns,"  "The  'Spirit  of  Poetry," 
"Woods  in  Winter,"  and  "Sunrise  on  the  Hills."  He  began 
the  study  of  law  in  his  father's  oflice,  but  soon  after  received 
the  appointment  of  Professor  of  Modern  Languages  in  Bowdoin 
College,  and  spent  three  years  traveling  in  Europe,  when  he 
'  dut'Ps  of  that  chair.     He  becan  '  of 

sa  Harvard  Uuiver>iity  in  1835,  v\  mu- 

In  1837  ^®  began  to  live  in  the  old  "Cragie 


ued  unt 

T'..  • 


bv 


•  d  as  Washington 'b  !i      '  ' 

I  vhich  became  bis  <- \' 

"As  a  translator  he  has  succeeded  y  sti  prc«trving  the 

spirit  of  the  originals,  and  as  a  p- ti    ■  ■''  *o  the  universal 

affections  of  humanity  by  thoughts  .t  s  derived  from 

original  perceptions .  of  nature  atiil  inc.  H'w  works  have 
passed  through  many  editions,  both  '■■r\  Ju.,- country  and  in  Eng- 
land.    No  American  poet  is  so  p«niular  and  well  known   in 

bicn  translated 

as  the  leading 

Aiu..  bard  to  designate  his  most 


dc.-: 
He  (\u'.v 

Mrs.  :.^  ;. 
of  Utica.  New  York. 

extreme  - 
sion  for  i 
made  all  be< 
a  very  early  age  : 
began  her  literal , 
and    Springfield  He; 
"Victoire,"  in  iSfs' 
Washington:  Sk 
was  connected 
pendent  for  se*  ■ 
32 


uost  popular  vol 


"^  years  01  u,  ^n;- 

:.  Am-';  ---"^i'    ■• 
■Maj' 


'     rn  iu  tbv       

hiW  -manifested 

->  her  friends,  a  pas- 

V «   f:;r  nature,  which 

m«rncd  at 

She 

lid 

noTel» 

ars  in 

'     She 

.   iter. 


i<\  k       ^i 


AMERICAN  LITERATI.  499 

published  his  great  anti-slavery  work,  entitled  "Testimonies 
Concerning  Slavery,"  in  1865;  has  been  regarded  as  a  leading 
reformer  in  moral  and  religious  society,  both  in  Europe  and 
America,  for  the  past  twenty  years.  He  has  resided  in  London 
since  1864. 

Mrs.  Elizabeth  Akeus  Allen. — She  was  born  at  Strong, 
Maine,  October  9,  1832,  She  is  known  under  the  nom  de  plume 
of  "Florence  Percy;"  her  girlhood  was  passed  in  Farmington, 
a  place  noted  for  its  literary  associations;  in  1855  she  becatne 
assistant  editor  of  the  Portland  Transcript;  her  first  volume  of 
poems  appeared  in  1856;  her  second  volume  appeared  in  1866, 
since  which  time  she  has  been  a  voluminous  contributor  to  va- 
rious magazines  and  periodicals.  She  is  the  author  of  "  Rock 
me  to  Sleep,  Mother,"  found  on  page  234  of  this  book. 

Louisa  May  Alcott. — She  was  born  at  Germantown, 
Pennsylvania,  in  1833.  She  was  carefully  educated  by  her 
father,  who  was  a  noted  teacher  and  literary  man ;  began  at  an 
early  age  to  write  fairy  tales  for  publication;  was  a  nurse  in  a 
Federal  hospital  during  the  war;  has  resided  with  her  father  at 
Concord  since  then;  has  been  a  voluminous  and  popular  author, 
and  her  books  have  reached  a  sale  in  London  and  America  of 
hundreds  of  thousands.  Her  most  famous  book  is  "Little 
Women,"  while  "Little  Men,"  "Aunt  Joe's  Scrap  Bag,"  "An 
Old-fashioned  Girl,"  and  "  Shawl  Straps  "  have  been  nearly  as 
populai*. 

Benjamin  P.  Shillaber. — He  was  born  at  Portsmouth, 
New  Hampshire,  in  1814.  He  entered  a  printing-office  in  1830; 
came  to  Boston  in  1832;  connected  editorially  with  the  Boston 
Post  and  Evening  Gazette  from  1847  ^°  ^^5°'  edited  the  Carpet- 
bag from  1850  to  1852;  became  connected  with  the  Saturday 
Evening  Gazette  in  1856;  is  author  of  all  the  "Mrs.  Partington" 
books,  and  known  under  that  nam  deplume. 

John  Greenleaf  Whittier. — He  was  born  at  Haverhill, 
Massachusetts,  December  17,  1807.  He  worked  on  the  farm 
and  at  shoemaking  until  he  was  eighteen  years  of  age.  He  is 
of  Quaker  parentage;  spent  two  years  at  the  village  academy; 
became  editor  of  the  American  Manufacturer,  at  Boston,  in  1829; 
has  been  connected  with  several  periodicals  since  that  time;  he 
removed  to  Amesbury,  Massachusetts,  in   1840,  where  he  has 


500  BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCHES. 

since  made  his  home.  He  was  an  active  advocate  of  anti-slav- 
eiy  doctrines,  and  many  of  his  poems  advocate  that  cause. 
Perhaps  "  Snow  Bound"  is  the  most  popular  of  any  of  his  pro- 
ductions. His  poems  are  noted  for  their  quiet,  domestic  char- 
acter. 

Walter  Whitman. — He  was  born  at  West  Hills,  New 
York,  in  1819.  ^^^  ^^^^  been  a  printer,  school-teachei",  editor,  a 
cl«rk  in  the  Department  of  the  Interior  at  Washington,  and 
from  1865  to  1870  was  a  clerk  in  the  office  of  the  United  States 
Attorney-general.  He  is  widely  known  as  "Walt."  Whitman,^ 
and  for  poems  on  country  life  and  kindred  subjects.  He  first 
brought  out  "Leaves  of  Grass"  in  1855;  "Drum-taps"  in  1865; 
and  an  edition  of  his  poems  was  edited  by  D.  G.  Rossetti,  and 
brought  out  in  London  in  1868. 

Mrs,  Sarah  Helen  Whitman. — She  was  born  at  Provi- 
dence, Rhode  Island,  in  1813;  was  married  in  1828;  left  a 
widow  in  1833;  is  known  chiefly  for  her  poems,  one  volume  of 
which  came  out  in  1853.  She  also  published  a  volume  entitled 
"'Edgar  Poe  and  his  Critics,"  in  1859. 

Hannah  F.  Gould. — She  was  born  at  Lancaster,  Massa- 
chusetts, in  1789;  moved  in  early  life  to  Newburyport;  pub- 
lished her  first  volume  of  poems  in  1832;  was  quite  popular  as 
a  poetess  and  author  some  forty  years  ago;  died  September  5, 
1865. 

William  Alex.  Alcott,  M.D. — He  was  born  at  Wolcott, 
Connecticut,  August  6,  1798;  educational  facilities  very  limited; 
was  the  cousin  of  Louisa  M.  Alcott's  father;  practiced  medi- 
cine several  years;  became  editor  of  a  series  of  school  geogra- 
phies and  two  educational  periodicals;  became  a  health  reformer 
in  1830,  when  he  abandoned  all  drinks  except  water,  thereby 
greatly  benefiting  his  health;  removed  to  Boston  in  1833,  and 
thereafter  devoted  himself  to  literary  work  in  the  interest  of 
various  reforms  in  morals,  education,  and  physical  training. 
He  became  a  public  lecturer;  published  over  one  hundred 
works;  among  other  books  he  wrote  "Young  Man's  Guide," 
"The  House  I  Live  in,"  "Library  of  Health"  (six  volumes), 
"Young  Mother,"  "Young  Husband."  He  died  at  Auburn- 
dale,  Massachusetts,  March  29,  1859. 


AMERICAN  LITERATI.  601 

AzEL  Stevens  Roe. — He  was  born  in  New  York  City  in 
1798;  received  an  academic  education;  became  a  clerk  in  a  mer- 
cantile establishment;  engaged  in  the  liquor  business;  retired 
from  business  and  settled  at  Windsor,  Connecticut;  lost  his 
property  through  the  folly  of  indorsing  for  his  friends;  applied 
himself  to  literature  with  marked  success.  He  is  the  author  of 
numerous  works  of  fiction,  one  of  his  best-known  books  being 
"Time  and  Tide;  or,  Strive  and  Win." 

Rev.  Edward  Payson  Roe. — He  was  born  in  New  York 
City  in  1838;  graduated  from  Williams  College;  'served  as  chap- 
lain in  the  Federal  army  during  the  war;  published  his  first 
book,  entitled  "Barriers  Burned  Away,"  in  1872,  which  has 
been  immensely  popular.*  "Opening  a  Chestnut  Burr"  and 
"A  Knight  of  the  Nineteenth  Century  "  have  been  nearly  as 
popular.  He  has  of  late  years  devoted  himself  to  raising  small 
fruits  and  writing  books  on  this  subject.  "  Success  With  Small 
Fruits"  has  been  translated  and  published  in  the  French  and 
Japanese  languages. 

Augusta  J.  Evans. — She  was  born  at  Columbus,  Georgia, 
in  1836;  removed  with  her  father,  while  yet  a  child,  to  Texas, 
and  resided  from  1847  to  1849  *"  ^^"  Antonio,  after  which  she 
lived  in  Mobile.  She  brought  out  her  first  novel,  "Inez:  A 
Tale  of  the  Alamo,"  in  her  seventeenth  year;  her  fame  was 
established  by  "Beulah,"  in  1859;  she  published  "  St.  Elmo"  in 
1866,  "Vashti"  in  1869,  and  has  been  the  author  of  a  large 
number  of  works,  all  fictitious. 

Nathaniel  Hawthorne. — He  was  born  at  Salem,  Massa- 
chusetts, July  4,  1804;  he  graduated  from  Bowdoin  College  in 
1825;  published  his  first  romance  anonymously,  in  Boston,  in 
1832;  brought  out  his  "Twice  Told  Tales"  in  1837;  also  a  sec- 
ond series  of  the  same  in  1842.  He  was  an  officer  in  the  Bos- 
ton Custom-house  from  1838  to  1841;  was  one  of  the  founders 
of,  and  lived  for  some  time  at,  the  "Brook  Farm"  community, 
in  West  Roxbury,  Massachusetts.  He  traveled  in  Europe  two 
years,  and  is  well-known  in  England  as  the  leading  American 
novelist.  He  ranks  with  Charles  Dickens  in  his  literary  capac- 
ity. "The  Scarlet  Letter"  is  perhaps  his  most  popular  book. 
He  died  at  Plymouth,  New  Hampshire,  May  19,  1S64. 


602  BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCHES. 

Edward  Everett  Hale. — He  was  born  at  Boston,  April 
3,  1822;  graduated  from  Harvard  College  in  1839;  "^^^  pastor 
of  two  Congregational  churches,  after  which  he  devoted  his  life 
to  literature;  has  written  largely  for  periodicals,  and  published 
numerous  books.  Perhaps  his  best-known  work  is  "Ten 
Times  One  are  Ten." 

Joaquin  Miller. — His  true  name  is  Cincinnatus  Hiner  Mil- 
ler. He  was  born  in  Indiana,  in  1841;  never  attended  school  a 
day;  removed  to  Oregon  at  ten  years  of  age;  at  fifteen  he  ran 
away  from  home  to  become  a  gold-miner;  for  four  or  five  yearsi 
following  he  traveled  extensively  as  "miner,  astrologer,  poet, 
filibuster  v/ith  Walker,  Indian  sachem,  and  Spanish  vauquero." 
His  life  is  far  from  a  model  one,  and  "he  is  the  butt  of  ridicule 
in  America,  though  held  in  great  honor  in  certain  English  lit- 
erary circles.  His  famous  book  is  "Songs  of  the  Sierras," 
although  he  has  published  several  others. 

Oliver  Wendell  Holmes. — He  was  born  at  Cambridge, 
Massachusetts,  August  29,  1809;  he  graduated  from  Harvard 
University  in  1829;  began  to  study  law,  but  abandoned  it  for 
medicine,  and  in  1832  went  to  Europe,  attending  the  hospitals 
of  Paris  and  other  large  cities.  He  became  Professor  of  Anat- 
omy and  Physiology  in  Dartmouth  College  in  1838,  and  has 
been  connected  with  Harvard  University  since  1847.  ^^  ^^3^ 
he  published  his  first  volume  of  poems,  containing,  among  oth- 
ers, "Poetiy:  A  Metrical  Essay,"  which  gained  him  considera- 
ble attention.  His  poems  have  passed  through  many  editions, 
and  been  republished  in  England;  they  are  mostly  of  a  humor- 
ous character.  In  later  years  he  has  become  an  essayist,  and 
writes  chiefly  in  prose,  his  articles  first  appearing  in  leading 
periodicals  and  afterward  in  book-form.  His  best-known  books 
are  "  The  Autocrat  of  the  Breakfast  Table,"  "  The  Professor  at 
the  Breakfast  Table,"  and  "  The  Poet  at  the  Breakfast  Table." 
"Although  seventy  years  old,  his  writings  still  have  the  boyish, 
cheerful,  loving  freshness  of  youth." 

Albert  Pike. — He  was  born  at  Boston,  December  29,  1809; 
he  entered  Harvard  University  at  the  age  of  sixteen,  but  was 
compelled  to  abandon  the  course  for  want  of  means;  removed 
to  St.  Louis  in  1831;  led  an  adventurous  life  in  the  South-west 
for  some  years  following;  began  to  practice  law  at  Little  Rock, 


AMERICAN  UTERA  TI.  603 

Arkansas,  in  1836;  published  his  first  volume  of  prose  and  po- 
etry in  1834,  at  Boston;  is  the  editor  of  several  legal  works  of 
note;  served  on  the  Confederate  side  as  a  commander  of  a  body 
of  Cherokee  Indians;  is  noted  as  a  leading  Mason,  and  has  pub- 
lished "  Statutes  of  the  Ancient  and  Accepted  Scottish  Rite." 

Sarah   Margaret  Fuller,  Countess  D'  Ossoll — She 

was  born  at  Cambridge,  Massachusetts,  May  23,  1810.  "Her 
father,  Hon.  Timothy  Fuller,  gave  her  the  education  of  a  boy, 
and  at  seventeen  she  read  fluently  French,  Italian,  Spanish,  and 
German."  She  became  a  teacher  in  Boston  in  1835;  principal 
of  the  Green  Street  School,  Providence,  in  1837;  conducted 
classes  of  young  ladies  for  conversation  in  1839;  editor  of  the 
Dial  from  1840  to,  1842;  her  contributed  papers,  known  as 
"  Woman  in  the  Nineteenth  Century,"  came  out  in  book-form 
soon  after.  She  was  literary  editor  of  the  New  York  Tribune 
in  1844;  traveled  in  Europe  in  1846-7,  and  there  met  the  Mar- 
quis d'  Ossoli,  an  Italian,  whom  she  married,  and  returning  to 
this  country  in  1850,  with  her  husband  and  child  was  wrecked 
and  drowned  off  the  coast  of  New  Jersey,  July  16.  She  was 
a  woman  of  remarkable  intellectual  powers  and  extraordinary 
gifts  as  a  conversationalist. 

Benson  J.  Lossing. — He  was  born  at  Beekman,  New  York, 
February  12,  1813;  educated  at  a  district  school;  learned  the 
watch-maker's  trade;  became  editor  and  joint-owner  of  the 
Poughkeepsie  Telegraph,  and  published  The  Casket,  a  semi- 
monthly journal,  in  1835  *^  1841;  moved  to  New  York  in  1838 
and  began  the  business  of  a  wood-engraver  and  edited  the 
Family  Magazine;  after  bringing  out  a  variety  of  illustrated 
works  he  published  his  "Pictorial  Field  Book  of  the  Revolu- 
tion," which  established  his  reputation  as  a  literary  man.  He 
has  since  that  date  (1850)  devoted  himself  mostly  to  historical 
works,  making  the  drawings  to  illustrate  his  books,  and  fre- 
quently engraving  the  cut  also. 

Noah  Brooks. — He  was  born  at  Castine,  Maine,  in  1830; 
received  a  common  school  education;  removed  to  Illinois  when 
twenty-four  years  of  age,  and  soon  after  went  to  California 
across  the  plains;  removed  to  New  York  in  1871,  and  became 
first  an  editor  of  the  Tribune  and  later  on  the  Times;  has  writ- 


604  BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCHES. 

ten  stories  for  Scribnefs  and  St.  Nicholas,  the  most  famous  of 
which  is  "  The  Boy  Emigrants." 

Stephen  Collins  Foster. — He  was  born  at  Pittsburg, 
Pennsylvania,  July  4,  1826.  His  literary  education  was  limited, 
but  possessing  a  natural  taste  for  music  he  studied  that  science 
very  thoroughly.  He  had  a  good  voice,  and  liked  to  sing  his  own 
music.  He  wrote  "Old  Uncle  Ned,"  "O,  Susanna,"  "Old 
Folks  at  Home,"  "Nelly  Bly,"  "My  Old  Kentucky  Home," 
"O  Boys,  Carry  Me  'Long,"  and  many  others — over  one  hun- 
dred in  all.  Most  of  them  have  been  translated  into  other  lan- 
guages.    He  died  in  New  York,  January  13,  1864. 

Francis*  Bret  Harte. — He  was  born  at  Albany,  New 
York,  August  25,  1839;  early  educational  advantages  limited; 
emigrated  to  California  at  seventeen  years  of  age;  worked  as  a 
miner,  school-teacher,  express-agent,  and  printer;  became  editor 
of  the  Golden  Era  at  San  Francisco;  wrote  "The  Luck  of 
Roaring  Camp,  and  Other  Tales"  in  1869;  brought  out  a  vol- 
ume of  poems  in  1870;  held  various  Federal  offices;  connected 
at  one  time  with  the  Californian,  and  finally  published  and  ed- 
ited the  Overland  Monthly,  through  which  he  became  widely 
known  to  the  American  public.  He  is  the  author  of  "The 
Heathen  Chinee,"  a  noted  poem. 

Julian  Hawthorne. — He  was  born  in  Boston,  June  22, 
1846.  He  studied  civil  engineering  at  Harvard  University;  be- 
gan to  write  stories  in  187 1 ;  published  a  novel  called  "Bressant" 
in  1873;  has  written  and  published  many  otheis  since  that  time; 
is  a  son  of  Nathaniel  Hawthorne;  lives  in  London. 

Thomas  Wentworth  Hig^inson. — He  was  born  at  Cam- 
bridge, Massachusetts,  December  22,  1823.  He  graduated  from 
the  Harvard  University  in  1841  and  the  Harvard  Theological 
Department  in  1847;  "^^^  pastor  of  the  First  Congregational 
Church  at  Newbury  port  from  1847  *°  ^^S^i  took  an  active  part 
in  the  anti-slavery  agitation  of  that  day;  was  more  or  less  con- 
nected with  the  celebrated  "John  Brown"  movement;  has  been 
a  voluminous  writer  for  the  Atlantic  Monthly  and  other  periodi- 
cals; has  published  numerous  books — fictitious,  historical,  and 
educational;  was  an  officer  in  the  Federal  army  during  the  late 
war;  has  made  his  home  at  Newport  since  1864. 


AMERICAN  LITERATI.  605 

William  Dean  Howklls. — He  was  born  at  Martinsville, 
Ohio,  March  i,  1837.  ^^'^  early  education  was  limited.  He 
learned  the  printer's  trade  with  his  father;  connected  with  sev- 
eral Ohio  periodicals,  and  in  1870  became  editor  of  the  Atlantic 
Monthly^  where  he  has  remained  since.  He  lived  at  Venice, 
Italy,  as  American  Consul  for  several  years,  and  on  his  return 
to  America  published  two  books  about  Italy.  He  has  also  pub- 
lished some  very  pretty  poems  and  stories,  among  the  rest 
*'  Suburban  Sketches." 

RossiTER  Johnson. — He  was  born  at  Rochester,  New  York, 
in  1840;  graduated  from  the  Rochester  University,  and  became 
an  editor  and  writer  for  periodicals.  "  Phaeton  Rogers,"  begun 
in  St.  Nicholas  in  December,  1880,  was  one  of  his  longest  sto- 
ries. His  wife,  Helen  Kendrick  Johnson,  born  at  Hamilton, 
New  York,  in  1844,  is  well  known  as  the  author  of  "Roddy's 
Romance"  and  several  similar  works. 

John  P.  Kennedy. — He  was  born  at  Baltimore,  Maryland, 
October  25,  1795;  education  limited;  served  as  a  volunteer  in 
the  war  of  1812;  studied  law  and  became  a  noted  politician; 
served  as  Secretary  of  the  Navy  under  President  Fillmore; 
wrote  several  novels  that  were  quite  popular  in  their  day,  among 
which  "  Swallow  Barn,"  a  story  of  plantation  life  in  Virginia, 
and  "  Horse-shoe  Robinson,"  a  story  of  the  Tories  in  the  Rev- 
olution, are  the  best  known.     He  died  August  18,  1870. 

Francis  Scott  Key. — He  was  born  in  Frederick  County, 
Maryland,  August  i,  1779;  was  a  graduate- from  St.  John's 
College,  Annapolis,  and  known  as  the  author  of  "The  Star- 
spangled  Banner,"  composed  wjiile  he  was  a  prisoner  in 'a 'Brit- 
ish ship  in  1814.     He  died  at  Baltimore,  January  11,  1843. 

William  T.  Adams. — He  was  born  at  Midway,  Massachu- 
setts, July  30,  1822;  educational  facilities  limited;  for  twenty 
years  a  teacher;  for  six  years  principal  of  the  Boylston  and 
Bowditch  schools  in  Boston;  has  written  voluminously  under 
the  nom  de  'plume  of  "Oliver  Optic,"  and  is  now  the  author  of 
nearly  one  hundred  volumes;  was  editor  for  many  years  of 
Oliver  Optic's  Magazine,  discontinued  in  1875. 

T.  S.  Arthur. — He  was  born  at  Newburgh,  New  York,  in 


506  BIOGEAPHIGAL  SKETCHES.     • 

1809.  His  early  educational  advantages  were  very  limited.  Htr 
removed  with  his  parents  to  Baltimore  in  1817  and  to  Philadel- 
phia in  1841,  where  he  has  since  resided.-  He  is  widely  known 
as  a  temperance  writer,  and  his  book  "Three  Years  in  a  Man- 
trap" is  said  to  have  reached  the  enormous  sale  of  25,000  copies 
within  twelve  months  after  its  publication.  He  has  published 
nearly  one  hundred  volumes,  besides  his  contributions  to  peri- 
odicals. 

John  G.  Palfrey. — He  was  born  at  Boston,  May  2,  1796. 
He  graduated  from  Hai'vard  University  in  1815;  became  a 
"  Congregational-Unitarian  "  clergyman  and  professor  in  the 
Harvard  Theological  School.  From  1835  ^°  ^^4^  he  was  editor 
of  the  North  American  Review;  was  elected  member  of  Congress- 
in  1846;  is  best  known  for  his  "History  of  New  England,"  a 
very  able  and  scholarly  book.     He  died  in  April,  1881. 

Francis  Parkman. — He  was  born  at  Boston,  September  16^ 
1823.  He  graduated  from  Harvard  University  in  1843;  in  1846 
made  a  journey  to  the  Rocky  Mountains,  living  for  a  time 
among  the  Dakota  Indians  and  suffering  great  hai'dships,  which 
seriously  impaired  his  health.  He  tells  these  experiences  in  his 
book,  "California  and  the  Oregon  Trail."  In  1856  published  a 
novel,  "Vassall  Morton;"  has  devoted  himself  for  the  last 
thirty  years  or  more  to  the  study  of  French  influence  in  Amer- 
ica, and  is  standard  authority  on  that  subject.  "Pioneers  of 
France  in  the  New  World"  is  one  of  his  best-known  books. 
He  has  visited  France  twice  to  consult  authorities  not  available 
in  America. 

Jam^s  Kirke  Paulding. — He  was  born  in  Duchess  County, 
New  York,  August  27,  1779.  He  was  a  brother-in-law  of 
Washington  Ii-ving;  wrote  many  tales,  sketches,  and  poems 
that  were  popular,  among  them  being  "The  Backwoodsman" 
and  "The  Dutchman's  Fireside."  He  died  at  Hyde  Park,  near 
his  birthplace,  April  6,  i860. 

James  G.  Percival,  M.D. — He  was  born  at  Berlin,  Con- 
necticut, September  15,  1795.  He  graduated  from  Yale  Col- 
lege in  1815;  graduated  in  the  Medical  School  in  1820;  in  1822 
published  a  poem  called  "Prometheus,"  and  later  "A  Dream  of  a 
Day,"  both  of  which  are  famous.     His  complete  works  were 


AMERICAN  LITERATI.  507 

first  published  in  Boston  in  1859.  He  was  acquainted  with  six- 
teen languages;  was  very  eccentric;  was  a  man  of  varied  and 
extensive  knowledge.  "One  of  his  favorite  plans  was  to  imi- 
tate all  known  meters  in  all  accessible  languages,  from  the  San- 
skrit down."  He  aided  Noah  Webster  in  making  his  famous 
dictionary;  made  a  geological  survey  of  Connecticut  and  was 
appointed  State  Geologist  of  Wisconsin  in  1854.  He  died  at 
Hazel  Green,  Wisconsin,  May.  2,  1856. 

Jared  Sparks. — He  was  born  at  Wellington,  Connecticut, 
May  10,  1789.  He  graduated  from  the  Harvard  University  in 
1815.  His  youth  was  passed  in  agricultural  and  mechanical 
pursuits;  became  pastor  of  a  Unitarian  church  in  Baltimore  in 
1819;  removed  afterward  to  Boston  and  devoted  himself  to  lit- 
erary pursuits;  his  principal  works  are  historical;  the  best- 
known  books  are,  "  Writings  of  George  Washington,"  "  Library 
of  American  Biography,"  and  "  Works  of  Benjamin  Franklin." 
He  died  at  Cambridge,  March  14,  1866. 

Mrs.  Harriet  Elizabeth  Spofford. — She  w?.s  born  at 
Calais,  Maine,  April  3,  1835.  She  was  married  in  1865;  has 
been  a  voluminous  writer  for  the  most  popular  magazines  and 
periodicals;  has  published  numerous  books,  the  best-known 
being,  perhaps,  "The  Amber  Gods,  and  Other  Stories,"  which 
came  out  in  1863. 

Henry  M.  Stanley. — He  was  born  near  Denbigh,  Wales,  , 
in  1840.  His  real  name  was  John  Rowlands;  was  sent  to  the 
poor-house  at  St.  Asaph  when  three  years  of  age;  emigrated 
to  New  Orleans  at  thirteen  years  of  age;  adopted  by  a  mer- 
chant named  Henry  M.  Stanley,  who  gave  him  his  own  name; 
was  enlisted  on  both  sides  during  the  late  war;  became  news- 
paper correspondent  at  its  close;  was  sent  by  Mr.  Bennett,  pro- 
prietor of  the  New  York  Herald,  in  1869,  to  look  for  Dr.  Liv- 
ingstone in  Africa;  he  found  Livingstone  May  10,  1871;  has 
continued  to  explore  Africa  since  that  time.  His  great  work, 
"Through  the  Dark  Continent,"  is  published  by  Harper  Broth- 
ers, of  New  York.  He  is  still  engaged  in  African  enterprises, 
and  has  succeeded  in  enlisting  the  civilized  nations  of  the  world 
in  an  effort  to  open  up  Africa  to  enlightenment  and  commercial 
intercourse  with  other  people. 


508  BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCHES. 

John  Trumbull. — He  was  born  at  Watertown,  Connecticut, 
April  24,  1750.  Graduated  from  Yale  College  in  1767;  studied 
law,  and  became  a  judge;  was  widely  known  in  his  day  as  a 
poet,  his  best-known  production  being  "  McFingal,"  a  satire  on 
the  Tories  of  the  Revolution.  He  died  at  Detroit,  Michigan, 
May  12,  1S31. 

Susan  Warner. — She  was  born  at  New  York  in  1819.  She 
is  known  as  a  novelist,  and  in,  connection  with  her  sister.  Miss 
Anna  B.  Warner,  has  produced  a  number  of  well-known  books. 
*'The  Wide,  Wide  World"'  and  "Qiieechy"  are  perhaps  her 
"best-known  books.     They  are  also  well  known  in  Europe. 

Mrs.  Emma  Willard. — She  was  born  at  Berlin,  Connecti- 
cut, February  23,  1787.  She  began  teaching  at  the  age  of  sev- 
enteen years,  and  in  1818  established  a  female  seminary  at 
Waterford,  which  she  afterward  removed  to  Troy,  New  York. 
She  is  principally  known  as  the  author  of  some  excellent  school- 
books,  and  did  much  to  improve  female  education  in  America. 
She  died  at  Troy,  New  York,  April  15,  1870. 

William  Wirt. — He  was  born  at  Bladensburg,  Maryland, 
November  8,  1772.  He  became  a  famous  lawyer  and  author; 
his  best-known  works  were  "Letters  of  a  British  Spy"  and 
*'  Sketches  of  the  Life  and  Character  of  Patrick  Henry."  He 
died  at  Washington  City,  February  18,  1834. 

Joseph  Emerson  Worcester.— He  was  born  at  Bedford, 
New  Hampshire,  August  24,  1784.  He  graduated  from  Yale 
College  in  181 1 ;  taught  school  at  Salem,  Massachusetts,  for  sev- 
eraj  years;  removed  to  Cambridge  in  1819;  published  the  first 
edition  of  his  famous  dictionary  in  1850.  He  is  the  author 
of  several  text-books  on  geography  and  historyj  but  is  known 
chiefly  for  his  great  work,  "A  Dictionary  of  the  English  Lan- 
guage," which  has  been  adopted  as  the  standard  in  England, 
and  by  many  American  scholars.  He  died  at  Cambridge,  Mas- 
sachusetts, October  27,  1865. 

Lucy  Hooper. — She  was  born  at  Newburyport,  Massachu- 
setts, February  4, 1816;  was  carefully  trained  by  her  father;  re- 
moved to  Brooklyn,  New  York,  at  the  age  of  fifteen;  her  poems 
were  published  in  1840  in  a  volume  entitled  "  Scenes  from  Real 
Life;"  her  complete  poetical  works  in  1848.  She  died  at  Brook- 
lyn, August  I,  1 84 1. 


A  MERICAN  LITER  A  TL  60» 

Samuel  L.  Clemens. —  He  was  born  at  Florida,  Monroe 
County,  Missouri,  November  30,  1835.  ^^®  attended  the  com- 
mon school  at  Hannibal,  Missouri,  for  a  brief  period;  was  ap- 
prenticed at  the  age  of  thirteen  years  to  learn  the  printer's  trade; 
wandered  about  over  the  country  for  several  years  as  a  "jour" 
printer;  went  to  New  Orleans,  with  the  intention  of  shipping- 
to  South  America,  but  found  there  was  no  trade  with  South 
American  ports  from  that  place;  learned  to  be  a  Mississippi 
River  pilot;  went  to  Nevada  early  in  1861;  became  editor  of 
the  Virginia  City  Enterprise  in  1862:  three  years  later  went  to 
San  Francisco;  began  lecturing  in  1866  under  the  nom  de  plume 
of  "Mark  Twain;"  published  "The  Jumping  Frog,  and  Other 
Sketches,"  in  1867 — his  first  book;  made  a  trip  to  the  Holy 
Land  in  1868;  published  "Innocents  Abroad"  in  1869.  This 
book  has  been  translated  into  German,  and  although  followed, 
by  "Roughing.lt,"  nearly  as  popular,  and  a  variety  of  other 
books,  none  of  them  have  attained  to  such  a  sale  as  the  former. 
In  connection  with  Charles  Dudley  Warner,  he  wrote  "The 
Gilded  Age." 

Edward  Eggleston,  D.D. — He  was  born  at  Vevay,  Indiana, 
December  10,  1837.  His  educational  advantages  were  limited, 
but  he  acquired  a  good  knowledge  of  several  languages  by 
studying  at  home,  although  his  health  was  very  delic&te  in  early 
youth.  In  his  nineteenth  year  he  entered  the  Methodist  minis- 
try; he  labored  several  years  in  this  calling  in  the  State  of  Min- 
nesota; removed  in  1866  to  Evanston,  Illinois,  where  he  began 
his  life  as  a  literary  man.  He  is  largely  known  as  a  Sunday- 
school  worker  and  writer;  has  written  many  children's  stories 
and  for  religious  periodicals;  his  greatest  book  is  "The  Hoosier 
Schoolmaster;  "  "The  Circuit  Rider"  is  nearly  as  popular. 

Mrs.  Elizabeth  Stuart  Phelps. — She  was  born  at  An- 
dover,  Massachusetts,  August  13,  1815.  She  was  the  daughter 
of  Prof.  Moses  Stuart,  the  most  eminent  Biblical  critic  of  his 
age.  She  married  the  Rev.  Austin  Phelps  in  1842;  her  hus- 
band is  noted  as  a  writer  on  religious  subjects,  and  the  editor  of 
works  on  sacred  music.  She  wrote  numerous  works  of  merit 
and  success — among  the  number  "The  Sunny  Side"  and  "Tell 
Tale."     She  died  November  30,  1852. 

Elizabeth  Stuart  Phelps.  —  She  was  born  at  Boston, 


610  BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCHES. 

Massachusetts,  August  31,  1844.  She  is  the  daughter  of  the 
above;  was  educated  at  the  Andover  Institute  under  Mrs.  Ed- 
wards; she  began  to  contribute  to  periodicals  at  the  age  of 
thirteen  years;  wrote  several  juvenile  books,  and  in  1868  pub- 
lished "The  Gates  Ajar,"  which  took  the  world  by  storm  and 
established  her  in  public  favor.  She  has  written  much  since 
that  time,  but  nothing  that  has  met  with  more  popular  favor. 
She  favors  the  political  suffrage  of  women,  and  advocates  that 
cause  warmly. 

Will  Carleton. — He  was  born  at  Hudson,  Michigan,  Octo- 
ber 31,  1845.  -^^  graduated  from  Hillsdale  College  in  1869; 
has  been  engaged  in  literary  work  and  as  a  lecturer  since  that 
time;  published  "  Betsey  and  I  are  Out,"  one  of  his  most  famous 
pieces,  in  1872;  published  his  famous  book,  "Farm  Ballads,"  in 
1873,  which  contained  "  Over  the  Hill  to  the  Poor  House,"  and 
numerous  other  pieces  which  are  almost  as  familiar  as  house- 
hold words  throughout  America. 

Emerson  Bennett. — He  was  born  at  Monson,  Massachu- 
setts, March  16,  1822.  His  education  was  limited  to  the  com- 
mon school;  at  seventeen  years  of  age  he  left  home  and  began 
a  wandering  life,  but  in  1840  he  brought  up  in  New  York  City, 
where  he  began  to  contribute  to  periodicals.  After  a  variety 
of  experiences  and  reverses,  he  became  a  canvassing  agent  for 
the  Western  Literary  Journal,  of  Cincinnati,  which  was  a  suc- 
cessful venture  and  opened  up  for  him  a  successful  career. 
Since  1850  he  has  resided  at  Philadelphia,  and  is  the  author  of 
a  large  number  of  novels. 

John  W.  Forney. — He  was  born  at  Lancaster,  Pennsyl- 
vania, September  30,  1817.  His  educational  advantages  were 
limited;  learned  the  printer's  trade;  removed  in  1845  ^^  Phila- 
delphia, where  he  edited 'for  many  years  a  leading  Democratic 
paper;  was  chosen  Clerk  of  the  United  States  House  of  Rep- 
resentatives in  1851;  resigned  in  1856;  was  again  chosen  Clerk 
in  1861;  soon  after  became  Secretary  of  the  United  States  Sen- 
ate, which  office  he  retained  until  1868;  in  1874,  visited  Europe 
in  behalf  of  the  Centennial  Exposition  held  two  years  later. 
He  has  been  an  industrious  contributor  to  peiiodical  literature, 
and  has  published  several  noted  books;  his  most  popular  work 
is  "Anecdotes  of  PubHc  Men." 


AMERICAN  LITERATI.  611 

William  Matthews,  LL.D. — He  was  born  at  Waterville, 
Maine,  July  28,  18 18.  He  graduated  from  Colby  University  in 
1835;  after  two  years  spent  as  a  teacher  in  Virginia,  he  began 
the  practice  of  law  at  Waterville;  in  1841,  became  editor  of  The 
Yankee  Blade,  which  soon  attained  an  immense  circulation.  In 
1856  Hfc  sold  his  paper  and  removed  to  Chicago;  in  1862,  was 
elected  to  a  chair  in  the  Chicago  University;  in  1875  he  re- 
signed this  position,  and  has  since  that  time  devoted  himself 
exclusively  to  literary  work  and  lecturing.  His  great  book, 
"Getting  On  in  the  World,"  has  rendered  him  great  renown  as 
a  writer,  and  has  been  followed  by  several  others  almost  as 
widely  known.  It  is  said  that  he  could  not  find  a  publisher  for 
his  first  book  until  he  advanced  the  means  to  defray  the  expense 
of  the  same,  so  little  faith  did  any  one  have  in  his  ability.  He 
is  now  the  best-known  author  in  the  North-west 

J.  William  Jones,  D.D. — He  was  born  at  Louisa  C.  H., 
Virginia,  September  25,  1836.  He  graduated  from  the  Univer- 
sity of  Virginia,  in  1859;  in  1861,  enlisted  as  a  private  on  the 
Confederate  side;  in  .1862,  made  chaplain  of  his  regiment;  in 
1863,  missionary  chaplain  to  Gen.  A.  P.  Hill's  corps;  took  a  lead- 
ing and  active  part  in  the  noted  revivals  occurring  during  the 
war  in  the  Confederate  Army.  In  1874  he  published  his  great 
work,  "Life  of  Gen.  R.  E.  Lee;"  is  the  secretary  of  the  South- 
ern Historical  Society  at  the  present  time.  He  is  also  the  author 
of  "  Life  of  Gen.  Stonewall  Jackson,"  and  "  History  of  the  Re- 
rivals  in  the  Confederate  Army." 

i^HILDI^BN'S  ^I^IJIiBF?S. 

S.  G.  Goodrich. — He  was  born  at  Ridgefield,  Connecticut, 
August  19,  1793.  His  early  Qducation  was  limited;  he  began 
his  TDUsiness  life  as  a  publisher,  in  Hartford,  in  1824;  he  soon 
after  removed  to  Boston;  he  gave  encouragement  and  help  to 
several  young  authors  whom  he  first  brought  to  public  notice; 
he  is  most. widely  known  under  the  name  of  "Peter  Parley," 
and  was  the  first  successful  writer  of  tales  for  the  youth  of  our 
land.  He  died  in  New  York  City,  May  9,  i860.  His  funeral 
was  attended  by  an  immense  crowd  of  children.  "  Recollec- 
tions of  a  Lifetime "  is  one  of  his  most  famous  books,  and  is 
largely  autobiographical.      Over  seven  millions  of  his  books 


512  BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCHES. 

have  been  sold.  He  was  the  author  of  over  one  hundred  and 
seventy  works.  His  brother,  the  Rev.  Charles  Augustus,  was 
also  a  writer  of  note;  born  in  1790;  died  January  4,  1862;  the 
author  of  "History  of  the  United  States,"  a  book  most  exten- 
sively used  in  the  public  and  private  schools  throughout  the 
country  to  this  day.  ' 

Jacob  Abbott. — He  was  born  at  Hallowell,  Maine,  Novem- 
ber 14,  1803.  He  gi-aduated  from  Bowdoin  College  in  1820,  and 
from  Andover  Theological  Seminary  in  1825;  was  Professor  of 
Mathematics  and  Natural  Philosophy  in  AmherstCollege  from 
1825  to  1829;  wrote  "The  Young  Christian,''  one  of  his  most 
celebrated  works,  in  1825;  wrote  twenty-four  volumes  of  the 
"  Rollo"  books,  and  thirty  volumes  of  juvenile  biographies,  be- 
sides a  number  of  other  books.  His  brother,  John  S.  C.  Ab- 
bott, was  born  at  Brunswick,  Maine,  September  18,  1805;  grad- 
uated from  Bowdoin  College  in  1825,  and  Andover  in  1829. 
His  first  book  was  "The  Mother  at  Home,"  and  has  been  trans- 
lated into  various  foreign  languages;  also  has  written  "Histor- 
ical Series  " — six  volumes,  several  volumes  of  the  life  of  Napo- 
leon Bonaparte,  and  a  large  number  of  other  works. 

Mary  Abigail  Dodge. — She  was  born  at  Hamilton,  Mas- 
sachusetts, about  the  year  1830,  but  another  authority  says  1838. 
She  never  has  told  her  age.  She  first  taught  school  in  Hart- 
ford, and  afterward  in  Washington  City;  is  known  under  the 
nom  deplume  of  "Gail  Hamilton;"  is  a  strong  advocate  of  the 
woman's  suffrage  doctrine.  A  later  writer,  Mary  Mapes  Dodge, 
is  more  properly  a  writer  of  children's  literature.  She  was 
born  in  New  York  City.  She  wrote  "  Hans  Brinker,  or  the 
Silver  Skates,"  which  has  been  translated  into  many  foreign 
languages.     She  is  the  editor  of*  St.  Nicholas  Magazine. 

Mrs.  Mary  Virginia  Terhune. — She  was  born  in  New 
York  in  1835,  but  another  authority  says  in  Virginia.  She  be- 
gan to  contribute  to  periodicals  at  the  age  of  fourteen,  and  at 
sixteen  years  of  age  wrote  an  article  for  Godey's  Lady's  Book 
that  was  translated  into  the  French  and  republished  extensively 
in  EngUsh  and  American  periodicals.  She  has  written  numer- 
ous novels,  but  her  best-known  book  is  "Common  Sense  in  the 
Household" — a  practical  cook-book;  her  latest  book  is  "Eve's 


SCIENTIFIC  WRITERS.  513 

Daughters,"  a  work  of  a  physiological  character  for  mothers 
and  daughters.  It  should  be  in  every  family  where  there  are 
children. 

SCIBNIPIPIG  ^I^IIPBI^S. 
Benjaaiin  Franklin.— He  was  born  at  Boston,  January  17, 
1706.  He  ran  away  from  home  at  seventeen  years  of  age,  and 
went  to  Philadelphia.  Established  himself  as  a  printer  and 
publisher  in  this  city  in  1729;  published  an  almanac  under  the 
nom  dc  plume  of  Richard  Saunders,  or  "  Poor  Richard,"  as  he 
was  usually  called.  He  was  one  of  the  most  prominent  men  in 
the  Revolutionary  struggle;  was  Embassador  to  France  from 
1776  to  1785;  was  the  first  man  to  demonstrate  the  practical 
utility  of  electricity,  and  wrote  extensively  on  this  and  other 
scientific  subjects.  He  wrote  an  autobiography  of  himself, 
which  is  included  in  the  edition  of  his  works  published  bv 
Jared  Sparks  in  ten  volumes.  He  died  at  Philadelphia,  April 
17,  1790. 

Elisha  Kent  Kane. — He  was  born  at  Philadelphia,  Feb- 
ruary 3,  1820;  was  educated  at  the  Universities  of  Virginia  and 
Pennsylvania,  and  took  his  medical  degree  in  1843.  After  ex- 
tensive tiavels  in  various  parts  of  the  world,  he  sailed  in  May, 
1850,  as  surgeon  and  naturalist  under  Lieut.  DeHaven  to  search 
in  the  arctic  regions  for  Sir  John  Franklin.  He  published  an 
account  of  this  voyage  under  the  title  of  "The  U.  S.  Grinnell 
Expedition  in  Search  of  Sir  John  Franklin."  This  was  fol- 
lowed by  "Arctic  Explorations,"  a  detailed  account  of  his  sec- 
ond voyage  of  exploration  and  search.  Dr.  Kane  has  also  been 
a  contributor  to  the  scientific  journals  of  Europe  and  America. 
He  died  at  Havana,  Cuba,  Febraary  16,  1857. 

Nathaniel  Bowditch. — He  was  born  at  Salem,  March  26, 
1773.  He  left  school  at  ten  years  of  age,  and  was  apprenticed 
to  learn  the  ship-chandler's  business;  after  he  reached  his  ma- 
jority he  spent  nine  years  on  the  sea.  "  Made  great  acquisi- 
tions in  knowledge,  mastered  many  languages,  and  did  more 
for  the  reputation  of  his  country  among  men  of  science  abroad 
than  has  been  done  by  any  other  man  except,  perhaps.  Dr. 
Franklin."  In  1800  he  published  his  great  work,  "Practical 
Navigator,"  adopted  by  most  modern  maritime  nations  as  a 
standard  authority.  His  most  widely  known  work  is  a  com- 
33 


514  ■       BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCHES. 

plete  translation  and  commentary — the  first  one  ever  made — of 
the  '■'■  Mecaniq^ue  Celeste''^  of  La  Place,  a  great  French  scientist. 
He  was  elected  Professor  of  Mathematics  and  Astronomy  in 
Harvard  University,  but  declined.     He  died  March  i6,  1838. 

AIatthew  F.  Maury. — He  was  born  in  Spottsylvania  Coun- 
ty, Virginia,  January  14,  1806.  His  parents  removed  to  Ten- 
nessee in  his  fourth  year.  His  early  education  was  cared  for  by 
Bishop  Otey,  and  in  1824  he  returned  with  Gen.  La  Fayette  to 
France  as  midshipman  on  board  the  frigate  Brandywine.  He 
afterward  was  made  lieutenant  on  board  the  Pacific;  devoted 
all  his  spare  time  to  mathematics  and  the  science  of  navigation, 
and  acquired  a  knowledge  of  modern  languages  at  the  same 
time.  In  1835  ^^  published  his  treatise  on  "Navigation;"  this 
was  followed  by  a  variety  of  contributions  and  essays,  and  in 
1855  he  brought  out  "The  Physical  Geography  of  the  Sea." 
He  died  at  Lexington,  Virginia,  February  i,  1873. 

Louis  J.  R.  Agassiz. — He  was  born  in  the  Parish  of  Mat- 
tier,  Switzerland,  May  28,  1807.  He  was  a  graduate  of  various 
European  universities;  reached  America  in  1846,  whither  his 
reputation  as  a  scientist  had  preceded  him;  Professor  of  Zool- 
ogy and  Geology  in  the  Lawrence  Scientific  School  since  its 
foundation  in  1848  at  Cambridge;  is  the  author  of  a  wide  range 
of  scientific  works;  has  been  greatly  aided  by  his  wife  in  the 
literary  work  connected  with  his  publications;  was  often  em- 
ployed by  the  American  Government;  died  in  December,  1873. 

Edward  L.  Youmans. — He  was  born  at  Coeymans,  Albany 
County,  New  York,  June  3,  1821.  His  early  educational  ad- 
vantag.es  were  very  limited;  at  thirteen  years  of  age  he  con- 
tracted a  virulent  disease  of  the  eyes,  which  interrupted  his 
studies,  but  of  which  he  eventually  recovered.  He  is  the  author 
of  a  large  number  of  scientific  works;  is  largely  known  in  con- 
nection with  works  on  chemistry,  and  his  "  Class-book  of  Chem- 
istry" has  been  a  standard  school-book  for  more  than  a  genera- 
tion past.  His  brother,  William  J.,  is  well  known  as  the  author 
of  "The  Elements  of  Physiology  and  Hygiene,"  and  as  a  scien- 
tific writer.  Eliza  A.  is  also  well  known  for  her  works  on 
botany,  several  of  which  are  standard  text-books  in  the  schools. 
Both  Edward  L.  and  his  sister  Eliza  are  editors  of  the  Popular 
Science  Monthly.     •  ' 


SCIENTIFIC  WRITERS.  615 

Asa  Gray. — He  was  born  at  Paris,  New  York,  November 
i8,  1810.  His  early  educational  advantages  were  very  limited; 
took  his  degree  in  medicine  at  the  Fairfield  Medical  College  in 
1831;  is  widely  known  for  his  works  on  botany;  since  1842  has 
been  Professor  of  Botany  at  Harvard  University;  his  greatest 
work  is  "Flora  of  North  America." 

Thomas  A.  Edison. — He  was  born  at  Milan,  Ohio,  in  1847; 
very  limited  educational  facilities;  newsboy  on  a  railroad  while 
very  young;  began  chemical  studies  at  this  time,  but  had  no 
encouragement,  and  his  apparatus  was  seized  and  thrown  away 
by  the  conductor;  printed  a  small  paper  on  board  the  train,  but 
soon  abandoned  this  to  learn  telegraphy;  he  has  invented  more 
helps  to  this  science  than  any  other  one  man;  invented  the 
phonograph,  the  telephone,  improved  electric  light,  or  "  horse- 
shoe" light;  has  written  largely  for  various  periodicals,  and  is 
altogether  the  best-known  scientific  man  in  America. 

E.  G.  Sqjjier. — He  was  born  at  Bethlehem,  New  York,  June 
17,  182 1.  His  early  education  was  limited  to  the  common 
school;  he  studied  civil  engineering,  but  never  entered  that 
profession ;  was  engaged  in  various  literary  enterprises  until  he 
brought  out  his  book,  "The  Chinese  as  They  Are,''  in  1843. 
Since  that  time  he  has  represented  the  United  States  Govern- 
ment in  various  parts  of  South  America,  and  has  published 
numerous  books  on  his  researches  into  the  early  history  and 
ruins  of  those  countries.  His  works  are  all  in  the  line  of  archnc- 
ology,  and  have  been  largely  translated  into  the  languages  of 
Euiope. 

F.  V.  Hayden. — He  was  born  at  Westfield,  Massachusetts, 
September  7,  1829.  He  studied  medicine, -but  gave  his  atten- 
tion largely  to  geology;  was  a  medical  officer  in  the  Federal 
army  during  the  late  war;  made  Chief  of  the  Geological  Sur- 
vey in  the  Territories  in  1867;  was  the  first  one  to  propose  the 
formation  of  the  Yellowstone  Park  as  public  property,  has  pub- 
lished many  reports  of  explorations,  and  written  articles  for 
scientific  journals.     He  resides  in  Philadelphia. 

Hooker  Worthington. — He  was  born  at  Springfield,  Mas- 
sachusetts, March  2,  1806;  education  limited;  appointed  a  pro- 
fessor in  Yale  Medical  College  in  1852,  where  he  continued  un- 


516  BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCHES. 

til  his  death,  November  6,  1867.  He  is  the  author  of  several 
medical  works,  many  books  on  natural  history,  chemistry,  and 
physiology  for  the  young,  and  among  the  number  is  "Child's 
Book  "of  Nature." 

Alexander  B.  Johnson. — He  w^as  born  at  Gosport,  Eng- 
land, May  29,  1786;  removed  to  the  United  States  in  1801; 
studied  law,  but  became  a  banker;  wrote  several  noted  works 
on  the  science  of  language,  several  religious  works,  a  "  Cyclo- 
pedia of  Instruction,  etc.,"  a  "Treatise  on  Banking,"  and  "  Lect- 
ures to  Young  Men." 

Othniel  Charles  Marsh. — He  was  born  at  Lockport, 
New  York,  October  29,  1831;  is  a  professor  in  Yale  College; 
with  his  students  has  made  many  excursions  to  the  unexplored 
regions  of  the  Rocky  Mountains,  and  gathered  large  collections 
of  the  bones  of  strange  animals  that  once  lived  in  that  section. 
He  has  published  descriptions  and  drawings  of  many  of  them. 

Lowell  Mason. — He  was  born  at  Medway,  Massachusetts, 
January  8,  1792;  early  education  limited;  began  his  musical 
career  at  Savannah,  Georgia,  in  1812;  published  his  first  book, 
entitled  "Handel  and  Haydn  Collection  of  Church  Music,"  in 
1821;  removed  to  Boston  in  1827;  has  written  large  numbers 
of  sacred  pieces  of  music,  and  published  many  books  of  music 
and  instruction  in  that  science.  He  was  made  "  Doctor  of  Mu- 
sic" in  1855,  the  first  time  that  degree  was  ever  conferred  in 
America.  He  is  principally  distinguished  for  his  efforts  to  pop- 
ularize the  science  of  music.  He  died  at  Orange,  New  Jersey, 
August  II,  1872. 

Jedediah  Morse. — He  was  born  at  Woodstock,  Connecti- 
cut, August  23,  1761;  graduated  from  Yale  College  in  1783; 
published  the  first  work  on  geography  in  America  in  1784;  fol- 
lowed this  with  numerous  other  works  on  geography  and  his- 
tory. His  works  were  republished  in  England  and  translated 
into  French  and  German.  He  died  at  New  Haven,  Connecti- 
cut, June  9,  1826. 

LiNDLEY  Murray. — He  was  born  at  Swatara,  Pennsylvania, 
in  1745-  He  was  educated  as  a  Quaker,  and  afterward  became 
.a  successful  lawyer  in  New  Yark;  was  the  author  of  "A  Gram- 


SCIENTIFIC  WRITERS.  617 

mar  oC  the  English  Language,"  which  for  more  than  fifty  years 
was  used  throughout  America,  and  was  the  great  authority  on 
English  grammar.  He  died  near  York,  England,  February  i6, 
1S26. 

A.  S.  Packard,  Jr. — He  was  born  at  Brunswick,  Maine, 
February  19,  1839.  He  graduated  from  Bowdoin  College  in 
1861;  studied  medicine;  is  \videly  known  for  his  researches  in 
natural  history,  especially  of  entomology;  is  an  officer  of  the 
Peabody  Academy  of  Sciences,  at  Salem,  Massachusetts;  is  a 
public  lecturer  of  note,  and  the  author  of.numerous  text-books. 

Benjamin  Silliman. — He  was  born  at  Trumbull,  Connec- 
ticut, August  8,  1779;  graduated  from  Yale  College  in  1796;  was 
one  of  the  first  to  give  popular  lectures  on  scientific  subjects  in 
this  country;  published  the  American  Journal  of  Science  and  Arts 
for  twenty-eight  years;  is  the  author  of  a  work  on  chemistry 
and  also  of  "A^Visit  to  Europe."  He  died  at  New  Haven,  No- 
vember 24,  1864.  His  son  and  successor,  Benjamin  Silliman, 
Jr.,  was  born  at  New  Haven,  Connecticut,  December  4,  1816, 
and  is  widely  known  for  his  scientific  writings  and  lectures. 

Alexander  Wilson. — He  was  born  at  Paisley,  Scotland, 
July  6,  1766;  removed  to  America  in  1794;  he  was  a  peddler 
and  school-teacher;  began  to  make  a  collection  of  American 
birds  in  1804;  published  the  first  volume  of  his  magnificent 
work  on  American  ornithology  in  1808.  This  was  the  crown- 
ing work  of  his  life,  consisting  of  nine  large  volumes,  to  which 
were  afterward  added  four  volumes  by  Prince  Charles  Lucien 
Bonaparte.  Mr.  Wilson  died  from  the  effects  of  swimming  a 
river  in  pursuit  of  a  rare  species  of  bird,  on  August  23,  1813, 
before  the  publication  was  completed. 

John  James  Audubon. — He  was  born  in  Louisiana,  in  May,^ 
1780.  At  the  age  of  fourteen  years  he  went  to  Paris  and  stud- 
ied under  the  celebrated  M.  David.  In  1798  he  removed  to 
Pennsylvania,  and  in  1810  began  to  collect  material  for  "The 
Birds  of  America."  This  wonderful  work  was  completed  in 
1839.  He  also  published  in  Edinburgh  at  the  same  time  "AmeV- 
ican  Ornithological  Biography."  He  also  published  "The 
Quadrupeds  of  America"  and  "Biography  of  American  Quad- 
rupeds."    He  died  January  27,  1851. 


518  BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCHES. 

Nathan  Allen. — He  was  boi'n  at  Princeton,  Massachu- 
setts, April  25,  1813.  He  graduated  from  Amherst  College  in 
1836;  graduated  in  medicine  in  1841;  edited  the  three  first  vol- 
umes of  the  American  Phrenological  Journal;  has  investigated 
the  subjects  of  public  health,  hereditary  influences,  insanity, 
and  many  other  subjects,  and  has  written  largely  for  the  public 
press.  He  is  the  author  of  "  Medical  Problems  of  the  Day " 
and  several  other  well-known  books;  has  held  numerous  offices 
of  public  trust. 

J^OLUFIGAL   AND    liBGAL  ^I^ITBI^S. 

Alexander  Hamilton. — He  was  born  in  the  Island  of 
Nevis,  West  Indies,  January  11,  1757.  He  attended  school  at 
Elizabethtown,  New  Jersey,  and  afterward  entered  King's  Col- 
lege; became  connected  with  the  American  Revolution,  and 
gained  the  confidence  of  Washington,  who  made  him  his  sec- 
retary; studied  law  at  the  close  of  the  war;  was  one  of  the  au- 
thors of  "The  FederaUst,"  a  celebrated  book;  wrote  often  on 
political  matters  in  the  public  press;  assisted  Washington  in  the 
preparation  of  his  "Farewell  Address;"  declined  the  appoint- 
ment as  Chief-justice  of  the  United  States;  his  works  were 
published  in  seven  octavo  volumes  in  1851;  he  was  killed  by 
Aaron  Burr,  July  11,  1804. 

John  Jay. — He  was  born  at  New  York,  December  13,  1745. 
He  graduated  from  Columbia  College  in  1764;  began  the  prac- 
tice of  law  in  1768;  was  largely  identified  with  the  colonial 
struggle  for  liberty;  with  Franklin  and  Adams  signed  the  treaty 
of  peace  between  the  United  States  and  Great  Britain  Septem- 
ber 3,  1783;  was  the  first  Chief-justice  of  the  United  States; 
was  Governor  of  New  York  State  from  1794  to  1800;  his  "Life 
and  Writings"  were  published  in  two  octavo  volumes  in  1833; 
'he  died  at  Bedford,  New  York,  May  17,  1829. 

Joseph  Story. — He  was  born  at  Marblehead,  Massachusetts, 
September  18,  1779.  He  graduated  from  Harvard  University 
in  1798;  practiced  law  at  Salem,  Massachusetts;  became  a  mem- 
ber of  Congress,  and  later  Associate-justice  of  the  United 
States  Supreme  Court;  became  head  of  the  law  school  of  Har- 
vard University;  pubHshed  many  hiw-books,  which  are  still  in 
great  use;  died  at  Cambridge,  September  10,  1845. 


POLITICAL  AND  LEGAL  WRITERS.  619 

Caleb  Gushing. — He  was  born  at  Salisbury,  Massachusetts, 
January  17,  1800;  graduated  from  Harvard  University  in  1817; 
entered  politics  at  an  early  age;  served  in  the  Mexican  war; 
president  of  the  Democratic  Convention  at  Charleston  in  i860, 
which  nominated  Stephen  A.  Douglass  for  President;  has  been 
a  voluminous  writer,  mostly  of  political  works,  "The  Practical 
Principles  of  Political  Economy"  being  accepted  as  a  standard 
text-book  in  American  colleges. 

James  Kent. — He  was  born  at  Philippi,  New  York,  July 
31,  1763.  He  graduated  from  Yale  College  in  1781.  He  de- 
voted himself  to  the  study  of  the  doctrines  of  civil  law;  held 
various  public  offices  in  New  York;  became  Professor  of  Law 
in  Columbia  College  in  1793;  published  his  celebrated  Com- 
mentaries on  the  United  States  Constitution  in  1826  to  1830; 
wrote  also  other  legal  and  political  treatises;  died  December 
12,  1847. 

RuFus  Choate. — He  was  born  at  Essex,  Massachusetts, 
October  i,  1799.  He  graduated  from  Dartmouth  College  in 
1819;  entered  the  profession  of  law;,  was  member  of  Congress 
from  1832  to  1834;  United  States  Senator  from  1841  to  1845; 
was  the  acknowledged  leader  of  the  Massachusetts  bar  after 
the  death  of  Daniel  Webster;  his  "works,"  with  a  memoir  by 
S.  G.  Brown,  were  published  in  1862.  He  died  at  Halifax,  N. 
S.,  July  13,  1859. 

Edward  Livingston. — He  was  born  at  Clermont,  New 
York,  May  26,  1764.  He  graduated  from  the  New  Jersey  Col- 
lege in  1781;  he  was  member  of  Congress  from  1795  to  1801; 
after  filling  various  offices  removed  to  New  Orleans  in  1804;  he 
there  attained  great  reputation  by  his  legal  works,  and  was  a 
leading  politician  for  many  years,  both  as  member  of  Congress 
and  United  States  Senator.  He  died  at  Rhinebeck,  New  York, 
May  23,  1836. 

Wendell  Phillips. — He  was  born  at  Boston,  November 
29,  181 1.  He  graduated  from  the  Harvard  University  in  1831; 
also  from  the  Cambridge  Law  School  in  1833;  has  been  known 
chiefly  for  his  connection  with  the  anti-slavery  movement;  has 
been  a  popular  lecturer;  his  published  works  are  numerous,  and 
deal  almost  exclusively  with  the  question  of  the  abolition  of 
slavery  and  other  reform  measures. 


520  BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCHES. 

William  H.  Seward. — He  was  born  at  Florida,  New  York, 
May  i6,  iSoi.  He  graduated  from  Union  College  in  1820;  was 
admitted  to  the  bar  in  1833-,  a  member  of  the  Slate  Senate  from 
1830  to  1834;  a  leading  politician  from  that  time  to  his  death; 
became  Secretary  of  State  on  the  election  of  Lincoln  to  the 
presidency;  author  of  several  literary  works  and  numerous  po- 
litical essays;  his  writings  were  published  in  1862  complete;  he 
died  in  October,  1872. 

SiMOX  Greenleaf. — He  was  born  at  Newburyport,  Massa- 
chusetts, December  5,  1783.  His  early  education  was  limited; 
began  the  practice  of  law  in  1806;  removed  to  Portland,  Maine, 
in  1818;  he  soon  after  began  to  publish  his  standard  legal  works; 
removed  to  Cambridge,  Mass.,  and  became  connected  with  the 
law  school  in  1833;  his  most  noted  work  is  known  as  "Green- 
leaf  on  Evidence;"  another  great  work  is  an  examination  of 
the  Gospels  in  the  same  manner.     He  died  October  6,  1853. 

William  M.  Evarts. — He  was  born  at  Boston,  February 
6,  1818;  graduated  from  Yale  College  in  1837;  studied  law  at 
the  Cambridge  school,  and  began  practice  in  New  York  City 
about  1840;  has  been  a  successful  politician,  and  regarded  by 
many  as  the  leading  lawyer  of  the  country,  having  been  em- 
ployed by  the  Government  in  its  most  important  causes;  was 
the  principal  counsel  for  President  Johnson  at  his  trial  in  the 
spring  of  1868;  was  Secretary  of  State  under  President  Hayes. 

Henry  Wilsox. — His  original  name  was  Jeremiah  Jones 
Colbath;  he  was  born  at  Farmington,  New  Haven,  February 
16,  1812.  He  had  buta  few  months'  schooling,  but  resolved  to 
educate  himself;  he  changed  his  name,  owing  to  the  disgrace 
attaching  to  his  family  from  his  father's  intemperate  habits; 
learned  the  shoemaker's  trade;  began  his  political  career  in 
1S40  as  a  Whig;  bought  the  Boston  Republican  newspaper  in 
1849,  which  he  published  for  two  years;  elected  United  States 
Senator  in  1855;  took  a  prominent  part  in  National  politics 
from  that  time  on;  has  published  numerous  works  of  a  political 
character;  died  in  1875,  "^vhile  holding  the  office  of  eighteenth 
Vice-president  of  the  United^  States.  He  was  one  of  the  few 
public  men  who  adhered  under  all  circumstances,  without  flinch- 
ing, to  his  rigid  temperance  and  prohibition  principles. 


RELIGIOUS  DENOMINATIONAL  WRITERS.    621 

I^BLiGious  Denominational  COi^iiPBf^s. 

John  A.  Broadus,  D.D.,  LL.D.— He  was  born  in  Culpcper 
County,  Virginia,  January  24,  1827,  He  graduated  from  the 
University  of  Virginia  in  1850.  He  entered  the  Baptist  minis- 
try, and  in  1859  was  elected  to  his  present  position  in  the  South- 
ern Baptist  Theological  Seminary.  He  has  published  a  variety 
of  denominational  and  theological  works,  the  best  known  being 
"  Preparation  and  Delivery  of  Sermons,"  which  has  been  repub- 
lished in  England,  and  adopted  throughout  America  as  the  stand* 
ard  text-book  on  Homiletics. 

Thomas  J.  Conant,  D.D. — He  was  born  at  Brandon,  Ver- 
mont,  December  13,  1802.  He  graduated  from  Middlebury 
College  in  1823;  began  life  as  a  teacher,  and  was  connected 
with  several  colleges  in  early  life;  gave  great  attention  to 
Oriental  languages;  became  a  professor  in  the  Baptist  Theolog- 
ical Seminary  at  Rochester,  New  York;  his  first  published  work 
on  the  Bible  was  a  revision  of  the  Book  of  Job,  with  notes; 
since  that  he  has  completed  the  translation  of  nearly  all  of  the 
rest  of  the  Bible,  and  is  now  admitted  to  stand  in  the  front  rank 
of  Oriental  scholars.  His  wife  is  a  lady  of  some  note  as  a 
literary  writer. 

Robert  Boyd,  D.D. — He  was  born  at  Girvin,  Scotland, 
August  24,  1816.  He  received  a  good  education,  and.  in  1843 
removed  to  America.  He  first  settled  in  Canada,  but  later  came 
to  Wisconsin,  where  he  mostly  resided  to  the  close  of  his  life. 
For  the  last  twelve  years  of  his  life  he  lay  a  helpless  paralytic, 
but  wrote  most  of  the  books  which  rendered  him  famous  during 
that  time."  Glad  Tidings,"  "Grace  and  Truth,"  "  My  Enquiry 
Meeting,"  are  among  the  number.  He  died  at  Waukesha, 
Wisconsin,  August  i,  1879. 

Jeremiah  B.Jeter,  D.D. — He  was  born  in  Bedford  County, 
Virginia,  July  18,  1802;  entered  the  Baptist  ministry  in  1822; 
in  1836  became  pastor  of  the  First  Baptist  Church  in  Richmond, 
Virginia;  resided  in  that  city  to  the  close  of  his  life;  wrote 
numerous  religious  and  denominational  works;  was  editor  of 
the  Religious  Herald  from  the  close  of  the  war  until  his  death, 
February  18,  1880. 


522  BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCHES. 

Alvah  Hovey,  D.D.,  LL.D. — He  was  born  at  Greene,  New 
York,  March  5,  1820.  He  graduated  from  Dartmouth  College 
in  1844;  three  years  later  graduated  from  Newton  Theological 
Seminary;  became  a  professor  in  the  latter  school  in  1849, 
where  he  has  I'emained  since,  for  many  years  its  president.  He 
is  the  author  of  numerous  denominational  and  literary  works. 

James  M.  Pendleton,  D.D. — He  was  born  in  Spottsyl- 
vania,  County,  Virginia,  November  20,  181 1.  His  educational 
facilities  were  limited;  entered  the  Baptist  ministry  in  1831; 
si:)ent  most  of  his  life,  previous  to  the  war,  in  Kentucky;  was 
pastor  for  twenty  years  in  Bowling  Green;  became  at  an  early 
day  a  prolific  writer  both  for  the  secular  and  religious  press; 
his  most  celebrated  book  is  perhaps  the  one  entitled  "  Three 
Reasons  why  I  am  a  Baptist." 

Francis  Wayland. — He  was  born  at  New  York,  March 
II,  1796.  He  graduated  in  1813  from  the  Union  College;  be- 
came a  professor  in  this  school  in  1817;  became  pastor  of  the 
First  Baptist  Church,  in  Boston,  in  182 1;  became  President  of 
Brown  University  in  1827;  a  celebrated  sentence  that  he  uttered 
was,  "Young  gentlemen,  cherish  your  own  conceptions;"  he 
resigned  the  presidency  in  1855;  was  connected  with  leading 
reform  movements;  died  September  30,  1865.  He  published 
eighteen  volumes  of  vai'ious  character — religious,  denomina- 
tional, and  scientific — his  most  celebrated  work  being  the  one 
on  "Moral  Science." 

C.  H.  Toy,  D.D.,  LL.D.— He  was  born  at  Norfolk,  Virginia, 
March  23,  1836.  He  gVaduated  from  the  University  of  Virginia, 
in  1856;  was  appointed  to  go  as  missionary  to  Japan  in  1859, 
but  before  he  sailed  the  war  rendered  the  undertaking  imprac- 
ticable; at  the  close  of  the  war  was  engaged  as  a  teacher  in 
various  places;  spent  two  years — from  1866  to  1868 — in  Berlin, 
Eui'ope;  was  successively  connected  with  Furman  University, 
Greenville,  South  Carolina,  Southern  Baptist  Theological 
Seminary,  and  in  1880  elected  to  the  chair  of  Semitic  Lan- 
guages in  Harvard  Un  versity,  where  he  yet  remains.  His 
writings  have  been  both  denominational  and  scientific. 

P.  H.  Mell,  D.D. — He  was  born  at  Walthourville,  Georgia, 
July  19,  1814.     He  had  a  liberal  education,  and  spent  some  years 


RELIGIOUS  DENOMINATIONAL  WlilTERS.    623 

as  a  public  school  teacher  in  New  England;  became  Professor 
of  Ancient  Languages  in  Mercer  University  in  1842;  occupied 
the  same  chair  in  the  Georgia  State  University  in  1856,  with 
which  institution  he  continued  to  be  connected  in  various  offices 
for  many  years.  He  has  issued  several  valuable  books,  among 
fs'hich  "Philosophy  of  Prayer"  and  "Church  Polity"  arc 
widely  known. 

Alexander  Campbell,  D.D. — He  was  born  in  Antrim 
County,  Ireland,  in  June,  1786;  educated  at  the  University  of 
Glasgow;  originally  a  Presbyterian,  he  became  a  Baptist  in 
181 2,  but  protested  against  all  creeds,  and  organized  his  churches 
on  this  basis.  In  1827  he  was  excluded  from  the  denomination, 
and  organized  his  followers  into  a  new  denomination,  which 
are  commonly  denominated  "  Campbellites."  They  are  mostly 
found  in  Virginia,  Kentucky,  and  Tennessee,  He  published 
fifty-two  volumes;  died  at  Bethany,  Virginia,  March  4,  1866. 

Cotton  Mathek,  D.D. — He  was  born  at  Boston,  February 
12,  1663;  graduated  from  Harvard  University  in  1678;  ordained 
to  the  Congregational  ministry  in  1684;  was  a  firm  believer  in 
witchcraft,  and  largely  instrumental  in  the  persecutions  of  his 
day;  was  the  author  of  a  celebrated  maxim,  to- wit,  "It  is  right 
to  persecute  provided  you  are  on  the  right  side;"  wrote  three 
hundred  and  eighty-two  printed  works  from  1686  to  1727, 
among  the  number,  "Essays  to  Do  Good,"  which  changed  the 
life  of  the  great  Dr.  Franklin.     He  died  February  13,  1728. 

Henry  M.  Dexter,  D.D. — He  was  born  at  Plympton,  Mas- 
sachusetts, August  13,  1821;  graduated  from  Yale  College  in 
1840;  also  from  Andover  Theological  Seminary  in  1844;  has 
written  a  number  of  valuable  books,  and  been  a  frequent  con- 
tributor to  his  denominational  periodicals.  His  book  "Congre- 
gationalism" is  regarded  as  standard  authority. 

Horace  Bushnell,  D.D.  —  He  was  born  at  Litchfield, 
Connecticut,  in  1802;  graduated  from  Yale  College  in  1827; 
has  a  wide  reputation  as  a  philosopher  and  essayist;  excels  in 
his  religious  and  denominational  writings;  pastor  of  the  North 
Congregational  Church,  Hartford,  for  many  years,  the  only 
pastorate  he  ever  held;  perhaps  his  best-known  book  is  "The 
Vicarious    Sacrifice,"   which    diverges   somewhat   in   doctrine 


524  BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCHES. 

from  strict  orthodoxy;  he  resigned  his  pastorate  some  time  be- 
fore his  death. 

John  Henry  Hopkins,  D.C.L.,  LL.D. — He  was  boin  in 
Dubhn,  Ireland,  January  30,  1792-  He  removed  to  America  in 
1800;  entered  commercial  business,  but  afterward  studied  law^ 
entered  the  Episcopal  ministry  in  1824;  ordained  Bishop  of 
Vermont  in  1832;  is  the  author  of  numerous  religious  works; 
was  a  decided  champion  of  the  High-Church  party;  died  at 
Rock  Point,  Vermont,  January  9,  1868. 

James  H.  Otey,  D.D. — He  was  born  at  Liberty,  Virginia, 
January  27,  1800;  graduated  from  the  University  of  North 
Carolina  in  1820;  ordained  to  the  Protestant  Episcopal  ministry 
in  1825;  was  the  first  minister  of  that  denomination  to  settle  in 
Tennessee;  was  x:onsecrated  Bishop  in  1834;  was  known 
throughout  the  South-west  as  "The  Good  Bishop;"  was  op- 
posed to  the  Secession  movement;  is  the  author  of  numerous 
works,  the  best  known  of  which  is  "  Unity  of  the  Church;  "  he 
died  at  Memphis,  Tennessee,  April  23,  1863. 

William  Meade,  D.D. — He  was  born  in  Frederick  County, 
Virginia  (now  Clarke  County),  November  11,  1789;  graduated 
from  Princeton  College  in  1808;  ordained  to  the  Episcopal 
ministry  in  1811;  aided  in  the  establishment  of  the  Episcopal 
Theological  Seminary  at  Alexandria;  elected  Assistant  Bishop 
of  Virginia  in  1829;  became  Senior  Bishop  in  1841;  is  the 
author  of  numerous  religious  works;  was  the  recognized  head 
of  the  Evangelical  branch  of  his  Church  in  America;  died  at 
Richmond,  Maixh  14,  1862. 

Philip  Schaff,  D.D. — He  was  born  at  Coire,  Switzerland, 
January  i,  1819;  was  educated  at  various  European  universities; 
removed  to  America  in  1844;  became  a  pi-ofessor  in  the  German 
Reformed  Theological  Seminary  at  Mercersburg,  Pennsylvania. 
He  has  written  extensively  on  theological  subjects,  and  is  recog- 
nized as  one  of  the  greatest  American  Biblical  authorities. 

Rabbi  Jacob  Voorsanger. — He  was  born  in  Amsterdam, 
'  Holland,  November   13,   1852;    was   liberally  educated    in   his 
aJ^V    native  city;  removed  to  America  in  1873;  has  been  connected 
^  /         with  Jewish  congregations  in  Philadelphia,  Washington,  and 
other  cities;  removed  to  Houston,  Texas,  and  became  the  editor 


^. 


RELIGIOUS  DENOMINATIONAL  WRITERS.    525 

of  the  New  Orleans  Jewish  South;  succeeded  Rabbi  Lilienthnl 
in  18S3  as  editor  of  the  Sabbath  Visitor;  he  is  widely  known  as 
an  author  of  Jewish  works. 

Daniel  D.  Whedon,  D.D. — He  was  born  at  Onondaga,  New 
York,  March  20,  1808;  graduated  from  Hamilton  College  in 
1828;  elected  to  a  professorship  in  Weslcyan  University  in 
1833;  was  connected  with  the  University  of  Michigan  from 
1845  *^  1S52;  lias  been  editor  of  The  Methodist  Quarterly  Review 
for  more  than  twenty  years  past;  is  the  author  of  a  great  deal 
of  denominational  and  religious  literature. 

John  McClintock,  D.D.,  LL.D. — He  was  born  at  Philadel- 
phia in  1814;  graduated  from  the  University  of  Pennsylvania 
in  1835;  entered  the  Methodist  ministry,  but  was  soon  called 
to  a  professorship;  was  editor  of  The  Methodist  Quarterly  Re- 
view from  1848  to  1856;  was  present  at  the  World's  Convention, 
at  Berlin,  in  1856;  finally  elected  President  of  Drew  Theolog- 
ical Seminary  at  its  foundation  in  1867;  is  the  author  of  numer- 
ous highly-valued  religious  works;  died  at  Madison,  New  Jersey, 
March  4,  1870. 

R.  S.  Foster,  D.D. — He  was  born  at  Williamsburg,  Ohio, 
February  22,  1820;  was  educated  at  Augusta  College;  soon  after 
reaching  the  age  of  seventeen  years  he  entered  the  Methodist 
ministry;  elected  in  1856  to  the  Presidency  of  the  North-western 
University;  succeeded  Dr.  McClintock  as  President  of  Drew 
Theological  Seminary;  elected  Bishop  in  1872.  He  has  written 
numerous  denominational  works. 

Thomas  O.  Summers,  D.D.,  LL.D. — He  was  born  at  Corfe 
Castle,  Isle  of  Purbeck,  England,  October  11,  1812;  removed 
to  America  and  joined  the  Baltimore  Conference  of  the  Metho- 
dist Church  in  1835;  became  a  missionary  to  Texas  in  1840; 
served  his  Church  as  pastor  and  editor,  and  was  Secretary  of  the 
first  Convention  of  the  Methodist  Episcopal  Church,  South,  held 
at  Louisville,  in  1845,  ^^^  °^  every  succeeding  Conference  up 
to  the  time  of  his  death,  at  Nashville,  in  1882,  while  the  Con- 
ference was  in  session.  He  was  editor  or  author  of  nearly  all 
the  books  published  by  his  denomination;  was  Professor  of 
Systematic  Theology  in  Vanderbilt  University  several  years 
prior  to  his  death. 


526  BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCHES. 

O.  P.  Fitzgerald,  D.D. — He  was  born  in  Caswell  County, 
North  Carolina,  August  24,  1829;  attended  Ash  Grove  Academy, 
and  afterward  worked  in  a  printing-office;  ordained  a  Deacon 
in  1855  and  Elder  in  1857;  traveled  as  an  itinerant  in  California; 
edited  two  Church  periodicals;  removed  to  Nashville  in  1878; 
has  written  much,  and  published  several  books;  is  the  editor  of 
the  Christian  Advocate. 

Atticus  G.  Haygood,  D.D. — He  was  born  at  Watkinsville, 
Georgia,  November  19,  1839;  gr«iduated  from  Emory  College 
in  1859;  has  written  several  popular  books  and  pamphlets,  per- 
haps the  most  widely  known  of  which  is  "  Our  Brother  in 
Black;"  has  been  President  of  Emory  College  several  years, 
which  position  he  resigned  in  1884;  was  elected  Bishop  in 
1882,  but  declined  to  serve;  is  the  General  Agent  of  the  "John 
F.  Slater  Fund"  for  the  education  of  the  colored  people  of  the 
South. 

Lymax  Beecher,  D.D. — He  was  born  at  New  Haven,  Con- 
necticut, October  12,  1775;  graduated  from  Yale  College  in 
1797;  entered  the  Presbyterian  ministry;  was  President  of  Lane 
Theological  Seminary,  in  Cincinnati,  Ohio,  from  1832  to  1851; 
was  considered  the  most  widely-known  and  influential  preacher 
in  America  from  1815  to  1851;  was  a  voluminous  author;  died 
at  Brooklyn,  January  10,  1863. 

James  H.  Thornwell,  D.D. — He  was  born  in  Marlborough 
District,  South  Carolina,  in  r8ii;  graduated  from  the  South 
Carolina  College  in  1829;  occupied  a  very  prominent  position 
in  the  Southern  Presbyterian  Church  and  in  his  State;  wrote 
much  on  religious  subjects;  died  August  i,  1862. 

A.  A.  WiLLETS,  D.D. — He  was  born  in  Tucketon,  New 
Jersey;  graduated  from  Princeton  College;  is  the  author  of 
"The  Miracles  of  Jesus"  and  several  other  works;  is  at  present 
pastor  of  the  Warren  Memorial  Church,  Louisville;  is  regarded 
as  one  of  the  strongest  men  in  his  denomination. 

E.  B.  Crisman,  D.D.> — He  was  born  at  Winchester,  Ten- 
nessee, October  i,  1831;  graduated  from  the  Cumberland  Uni- 
versity in  1852;  entered  the  Cumberland  Presbyterian  ministry, 
and  has  occupied  various  prominent  positions;  has  written  much 
denominational  literature;  is  now  Financial  Agent  of  the 
Trinity  University,  Tehuacana,  Texas. 


liESSONS  FI^OM   F^ISTOI^Y. 


BY  W.  W.  BREESE. 


ACK  through  the  ages  we  can  find  lessons 
of  great  value  to  us  in  the  present  age. 
Solomon  declared  that  there  was  "nothing 


new  under  the  sun,"  and  as  this  applies  to 
the  human  nature  of  ^an,  it  is  essentially  true;  for 
there  is  no  new  impulse  to  wickedness  nor  inclination 
to  goodness  that  has  not  had  its  counterpart  and 
precedent.  Man's  aspirations  are  essentially  the 
same  to-day  as  in  all  preceding  ages. 

Not  onl}^  is  this  morally  true,  but  in  a  large  part 
of  the  globe  it  is  literally  true.  Henry  George  says 
that  not  one-fourth  of  the  people  on  the  globe  have 
any  idea  of  progress,  or  ever  heard  of  it.  The  idea 
of  the  progress  and  improvement  of  mankind  in  all 
the  arts  and  sciences  that  go  to  make  up  what  is 
called  civilization  is,  he  says,  confined  to  the  intelli- 
gent classes  in  the  civiHzed  countries  of  the  globe, 
who  form  a  very  small  remnant  of  the  animate  human 
nature.  Again,  he  points  out  that  the  Chinese,  who 
are  regarded  by  us  as  barbarians,  or  nearly  so,  were 
highly  civilized  when  the    ancestors  of  the  present 

(527) 


528  HISTORICAL  SKETCHES. 

Americans  were  savages,  but  have  stood  still  for  the 
last  two  thousand  years. 

The  idea  of  many  people,  that  the  progress  of  man- 
kind, from  the  creation  down  to  the  present  time,  has 
been  steadil}^  in  the  line  of  improvement  and  develop- 
ment is  not  borne  out  by  the  facts  of  history.  Some 
people  seem  to  regard  our  father  Adam  as  a  man  of 
very  poor  mental  powers  and  a  weak  mind;  but 
where  is  the  naturalist  to-day  who  could  classify  and 
give  names  to  all  the  animals  and  plants  upon  the 
globe,  without  previous  instruction.?  This  idea  of 
tracing  back  through  the  ages  to  find  that  we  have 
developed  out  of  the  lower  orders  of  animals  is  very 
well  expressed  in  the  following,  which  has  gone  the 
rounds  of  the  papers  of  this  country,  and  has  proba- 
bly been  used  by  many  editors,  who  took  it  for  a 
humorous  "take-off"  on  a  popular  modern  doctrine: 

"Go  back  one  century,  and  we  have  no  science. 
Go  back  another,  and  we  have  lost  philosophy;  and 
one  more  takes  us  behind  art.  Lose  another,  and 
our  traffic  by  land  and  sea  disappears.  Go  back  and 
back  still,  and  we  find  man  a  savage,  digging  roots 
with  his  fingers,  and  living  on  what  our  domestic  ani- 
mals would  reject." 

This  is  all  "  stuff,"  for  we  can  easily  trace  the  his- 
tory of  the  Carthaginians,  for  instance,  or  of  the 
Egyptians,  and  Ethiopians,  who  are  known  to  have 
once  been  civilized  peoples,  but  are  now  sunk  in  deg- 
radation and  vice.  The  ancient  Greek  nation  is  an- 
other example,  and  shows  the  degenerating  tenden- 
cies of  the  human  race. 

In  consideration  of  all  these  facts,  we  can  reach  no 
other  unbiased  and  unprejudiced  conclusion  than  that 


LESSONS  FR  OM  HIS  TOR  Y.  629 

the  element  in  the  history  of  mankind  has  been  the 
Christian  religion,  which  has  rescued  modern  ages 
from  the  darkness  of  heathenism,  and  saved  Europe 
from  the  fate  of  other  savage  races.  Men  may  cavil 
and  argue  against  this  conclusion,  but  the  facts  of 
history  are  against  them.  Not  a  nation  on  the  globe 
that  once  flourished  in  opulence,  wealth,  and  literary 
culture,  but  has  gone  down  in  decay  and  ruin  where 
the  Christian  religion  has  been  excluded!  Think  of 
India,  the  mother  of  nations,  with  its  Sanskrit  litera- 
ture and  its  evidences  of  ancient  culture  and  power! 
To-day  it  is  helpless,  pulseless,  useless,  in  the  world  of 
cultivation  and  literature — its  people  ruled  by  Chris- 
tian nations,  its  nobility  sunken  in  selfish  idleness  and 
ignorance. 

But  let  us  think  of  those  countries  which  a  few 
centuries  since  were  on  a  level,  so  far  as  education 
and  civilization  go,  with  all  of  Northern  Europe.  The 
territory  of  Russian  Siberia,  one  and  a-half  times  as 
large  as  the  United  States,  has  belonged  to  Russia 
three  centuries,  yet  of  the  4,000,000  inhabitants  nearly 
one-half  are  still  pagan.  Paganism  is  fostered  by  the 
home  Government.  The  pagan  priests  are  allowed 
to  collect  and  burn  the  copies  of  the  Bible  with  which 
the  missionaries  supply  the  converts,  and  no  mission- 
ary may  baptize  without  the  authority  of  the  pagan 
civil  authorities,  who  are  allowed  to  do  almost  any 
•  thing  to  drive  Christianity  from  the  country. 

This  is  doubtless  a  fair  representation  of  what  Eu- 
rope and  America  would  be  to-day  but  for  the  intro- 
duction of  Christian  doctrines  and  influences  at  an 
« 

early  day. 

But  we  may  learn  many  useful  lessons  from  the 
34 


530  BISTOmCAL  SKETCHES. 

history  of  Europe  and  our  own  land,  since  the  intro- 
duction of  Christianity,  that  show  how  slow  after 
all  was  our  progress  at  the  beginning  of  this  great 
work  of  civilization,  as  compared  with  that  of  some 
heathen  lands  that  have  been  reclaimed  in  modern 
times. 

The  principle  of  force  has  in  past  times  been  dis- 
mally employed  in  the  treatment  of  lunatics,  lepers, 
galley-slaves,  and  criminals.  Lunatics  were  chained 
and  put  in  cages  like  wild  beasts.  The  lepers  were 
banished  from  the  towns,  and  made  to  live  in  some 
remote  quarter  away  from  human  beings — though 
themselves  human.  The  galley-slaves  were  made  to 
tug  at  the  oar  until  they  expired  in  misery.  Criminals 
were  crowded  together  without  regard  to  age  or  sex, 
until  the  prisons  of  Europe  became  the  very  sink  of 
iniquity.  Some  four  hundred  years  ago  criminals 
were  given  over  to  be  vivisected  alive  b}^  the  surgeons 
of  Florence  and  Pisa.  Their  place  has  now  been 
taken  by  dumb  brutes. 

Again,  the  reluctance  of  our  forefathers  to  accept 
of  scientific  truth  and  discoveries  is  well  illustrated  by 
the  following: 

"  Pope  Gregory  XIII.  decided  that  October  4,  1582, 
should  be  written  and  reckoned  as  October  15,  1582, 
and  made  further  prescriptions  in  regard  to  the  bis- 
sextile or  leap-year,  by  which  to  guard  in  the  future 
against  su,ch  precession  of  the  months  as  called  for 
his  reform.  In  this  he  was  guided  by  the  calculations 
of  Copernicus  and  other  scientific  authorities  of  the 
time.  , 

"  The  calendar  of  Julius  Caesar,  which  was  then  in 
use,  made  the  year  to  consist  of  three  hundred  and 


LESSONS  FR  OM  HIS  TOR  Y.  681 

sixty-five  days,  with  a  day  added  to  February  once 
in  four  years.  This  year  was  eleven  minutes  and 
fourteen  seconds  longer  than  the  true  year,  and  in 
sixteen  centuries  was  wrong  by  fourteen  days.  Cath- 
olic Europe  accepted  the  new  style.  But  Protestant 
nations  held  oft',  England  longest  of  all,  accepting  the 
new  style  in  1752,  when  September  3d  became  Sep- 
tember 14th,  and  hence  no  date  between  those  days 
is  to  be  found  in  our  historic  chronology.  Russia,  ad- 
hering to  the  '  Holy  Eastern  Church,'  refuses  defer- 
ence to  the  Pope  even  where  the  Pope  is  demonstra- 
bly right,  and  still  uses  the  old  style,  making  it  neces- 
sary to  correct  Russian  dates  to  the  new  style,  as  wc 
do  dates  in  our  own  historical  records  of  the  seven- 
teenth and  the  first  half  of  the  eighteenth  century. 

"  The  opposition  of  the  Oriental  Churches  and  of 
Mohammedan  and  Pagan  nations  impedes  the  general 
adoption  of  the  Western  standard  of  chronological 
notation,  though  Japan  has  adopted  it — of  course 
making  no  account  of  the  meaning  of  'A.D.'  Some 
of  our  daily  contemporaries  discuss  the  question 
whether,  in  view  of  the  fact  that  Christ  is  not  the 
■^  Lord '  of  any  but  nations  professing  to  be  Christian, 
some  new  epoch  may  not  be  agreed  upon  for  universal 
adoption.  No  proposition  of  that  kind  is  likely  to  be 
soon  made,  and  in  the  course  of  a  century,  *  if  the 
world  lasts  so  long,'  the  proportion  of  earth's  inhabit- 
ants who  acknowledge  Jesus  Christ  as  Lord  will  be 
much  larger  than  at  present." 

We  can  but  smile  to  think  of  the  simplicity  of  the 
ancients,  who  little  dreamed  of  the  great  progress 
that  would  be  made  in  a  later  age.  Here  is  the  list 
of  what   they  termed   the  "seven   wonders   of  the 


532  HISTORICAL  SKETCHES. 

world: "  The  Pyramids  of  Egypt,  the  Hanging  Gardens 
of  Babylon,  the  Tomb  of  Mausolus,  the  Temple  of 
Diana  at  Ephesus,  the  Colossus  of  Rhodes,  the  Statue 
of  Zeus  by  Phidias,  and  the  Palace  of  Cyrus  that  was 
cemented  with  gold.  But  how  insignificant  are  these 
■works  of  art,  compared  with  the  results  of  modern 
engineering  and  invention!  We  may  truly  expect  to 
see  greater  wonders  in  the  future,  and  only  the  fool 
.can  cavil  at  the  miracles  and  promises  of  the  Bible 
when  he  views  the  great  works  of  man. 

Let  us  look  again  at  some  of  the  things  that  have 
been  done  in  modern  times.     The  first  Society  for  the 
Promotion  of  Christian  Knowledge  was  organized  in 
1698.     The  first  steam  engine  on  this  continent  was 
brought  from  England  in  1753.     One  hundred  years 
ago  not  a  pound  of  coal  nor  a  cubic  foot  of  illuminating 
gas  had  been  burnt  in  this  country.     No  iron  stoves 
were  used,  and  no  contrivances  for  economizing  heat 
were  employed  until  Dr.  Franklin  invented  the  iron- 
framed  fire-place,  which  still    bears   his  name.     All 
the  cooking  and  warming  in  town,  as  well  as  in  the 
country,  was  done  by  the  aid  of  a  fire  kindled  on  the 
brick  hearth  or  in  brick  ovens.     Pine-knots  or  tallow- 
candles  furnished  the  light  for  the  long  winter  nights^ 
and  sanded  floors  supplied  the  place  of  rugs  and  car- 
pets.    The  water  used  for  household  purposes  was 
drawn  from  deep  wells  w^ith  creaking  sweeps.     Nq 
form  of  pump  was  used  in  this  country,  so  far  as  we 
can  learn,  until  after  the  commencement  of  the  present 
century.      There  were  no  friction-matches  in  those 
days,  by  the  aid  of  which  a  fire  could  be  easily  kindled, 
and  if  the  fire  went  out  upon  the  hearth  overnight, 
and  the  tinder  was  damp,  so  that  the  spark  would  not 


THE  CRUSADE  OF  THE  CHILDREN.  533 

catch,  the  alternative  remained  of  wading  through 
the  snow  a  mile  or  so  to  borrow  a  brand  of  a  neigh- 
bor. Only  one  room  in  any  house  was  warm,  unless 
some  member  of  the  family  was  ill;  in  all  the  rest 
the  temperature  was  at  zero  during  many  nights  in 
the  winter.  The  men  and  women  of  one  hundred 
years  ago  went  to  their  beds  in  a  temperature  colder 
than  that  of  our  barns  and  wood-sheds,  and  they  never 
complained. 

She  (©i^usadb  op  the  (sJhildi^en. 

"About  the  year  12 12  there  dwelfrin  an  old  province  on  the 
Tiver  Loire  a  shepherd's  boy  named  Stephen.  He  possessed 
an  active  imagination,  and  delighted  in  the  tales  of  the  palmers 
and  the  songs  of  the  troubadours.  He  had  a  restless  disposi- 
tion, and  aspired  to  see  foreign  lands. 

"About  one  hundred  years  before  his  birth  the  Christian 
princes  of  Europe  had  captured  Jerusalem.  The  crusade  that 
ended  in  this  conquest  had  raised  the  victors  to  the  very  sum- 
mit of  fame.  In  palace  and  cottage  stories  were  told  of  the 
midnight  march  of  the  palmers  from  Emmaus  to  the  hills  over- 
looking the  Holy  City,  and  how  their  hearts  burned  within 
them  by  the  way;  how  the  sudden  morning  lighted  up  the 
brow  of  Olivet,  and  Jerusalem  lay  before  them,  pinnacled  in 
the  rising  sun;  how  the  great  army  fell  prostrate  at  the  sight, 
and  kissed  the  earth;  how  Godfrey,  and  Baldwin,  and  Robert, 
and  Raymond  shattered  the  army  of  the  infidels,  and  scaled  the 
sacred  walls,  and  broke  through  the  sacred  gates;  how,  on  that 
day  of  gloiy,  Urban  filled  the  papal  throne,  while  Henry  reigned 
in  Germany,  Philip  in  France,  Rufus  in  England,  and  over  all 
reigned  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  to  whom  be  honor,  thanksgiving, 
and  praise  forever! 

"About  the  time  of  the  birth  of  Stephea,  Richard  the  Lion- 
hearted  returned  from  Palestine  to  England.  His  romantic 
exploits  were  then,  and  for  many  years  afterward,  the  favorite 
theme  of  every  Catholic  land.  It  was  told  how  he  had  capt- 
ured the  Island  of  Cyprus;  how  he  was  married  there  in  the 


534  BISTOBICAL  SKETCHES. 

flower-time;  how  he  had  fought  with  noble  Saladin  at  Acre 
and  Jaffa;  how  he  had  refused  to  look  upon  Jerusalem,  as  it 
lay  beneath  him  gleaming  in  the  sun,  saying  that  he  would  not 
behold  a  city  he  was  unable  to  conquei;. 

"Stephen  had  been  told  these  stories,  and  he  dreamed  of 
them  by  day  and  by  night  among  the  flocks  on  his  own  native 
hills.  He  longed  for  the  time  when  his  boj^hood  should  pas& 
away,  and  he  would  be  able  to  join  the  palmers  in  some  new 
crusade. 

"In  the  year  1187  the  Sultan  Saladin  conquered  the  city  of 
Jerusalem.  It  was  held  by  the  infidels  for  many  years,  during^ 
which  Europe  frequently  was  agitated  by  plans  and  prepara- 
tions for  new  crusades. 

"One  night  the  boy  Stephen  dreamed  a  remarkable  dream. 
There  came  to  him  a  pilgrim  with  a  sorrowful  face,  and  with 
garments  tattered  and  torn.  Stephen's  heai*t  was  touched  with 
pity  at  the  sight,  and  he  asked  the  stranger  what  he  should  do 
to  relieve  his  distress. 

"'Thou  must  preach  a  crusade  to  the  young.  Providence 
has  allotted  that  the  children  shall  recover  the  sepulcher  of  the 
Lord!' 

"The  boy  Stephen  dfterward  said  that  he  thought  the  pil- 
grim was  the  Saviour.     He  awoke,  his  soul  filled  with  joy. 

"He  dreamed  again — a  day-dream.  He  fancied  that  he  had 
unrolled  the  banner  of  the  Cross,  and  had  gathered  to  his  stand- 
ard the  children  of  every  Christian  land;  that  he  went  march- 
ing at  their  head,  over  the  sunny  provinces  of  France,  down  to- 
the  gates  of  the  sea;  that  a  great  fleet,  waving  its  banners  and 
gonfalons,  bore  them  away;  that  they  encamped  on  the  moonlit 
plains  of  Syria  amoug  the  roses;  that  they  scaled  the  walls  of 
Jerusalem,  and  sang  anthems  of  thanksgiving  at  the  Saviour's- 
tomb. 

"Stephen  told  his  boy-companions  of  his  dream,  and  asked 
them  if  they  were  willing  to  take  the  cross  as  the  emblem  of 
their  mission,  and  to  go  with  him  and  fight  beyond  the  sea. 
Elated  beyond  measure  at  the  thought  of  engaging  in  so  won- 
derful an  enterprise,  they  promised  to  follow  him  whithersoever 
he  should  lead. 

"The  infatuated  lad  then  left  his  flocks,  and  at  once  com- 
menced to  preach  a  crusade  to  the  children.     He  announced 


'THE  CRUSADE  OF  THE  CHILDREN.  635 

himself  as  a  prophet  commissioned  by  Heaven  to  recover  the 
holy  sepulcher. 

'•  What  was  more  remarkable  than  his  absurd  dreaming,  the 
children  flocked  around  him  wherever  he  went,  and  he  pictured 
his  mission  and  the  glory  that  would  attend  it  with  such  elo- 
quence and  power  that  he  drew  after  him  all  who  listened  to 
his  voice. 

"He  was  followed  at  first  by  a  small  band  of  little  ones,  who 
prayed  continually,  'Lord  Jesus,  restore  thy  cross  to  us!' 

"The  number  increased  to  hundreds,  then  to  thousands,  then, 
when  a  multitude  of  boy-preachers  had  carried  the  delusion 
into  the  old  cities  of  France,  to  tens  of  thousands. 

"  When  Isabella,  queen-dowager  of  England,  was  returning 
at  this  time  to  her  home  in  Angouleme,  in  France,  she  found 
gatherings  of  children  at  the  doors  of  the  principal  churches 
along  the  way.  When  she  asked  these  children  the  cause  of 
their  assembling,  they  answered,  with  downcast  looks, '  Solyma 
lies  in  ruins.' 

"The  delusion  exerted  so  powerful  an  influence  on  the  youth 
of  France,  that  a  great  number  of  parents  were  unable  to  con- 
trol their  children.  'No  bolts,  no  bars,'  says  a  histoi'ian  of  the 
young  enthusiasts, '  no  fear  of  fathers,  no  love  of  mothers,  could 
hold  them  back.'  Girls,  as  well  as  boys,  ran  away  from  their 
homes  and  swelled  the  procession  that  followed  Stephen. 
Whole  villages  were  depopulated  of  children. 

"'Solyma  lies  in  ruins!' 

"  The  cry  of  the  children  filled  all  Southern  France. 

"Both  the  Church  and  the  Government  of  France  were 
divided  in  opinion  in  respect  to  this  remarkable  movement. 
The  more  intelligent  prelates  discountenanced  the  young  enthu- 
siasts, while  the  laity  held  that  God,  through  the  agency  of 
'  babes  and  sucklings,'  was  about  to  display  his  power  in  a  sig- 
nal manner  on  earth. 

"The  king,  Philip  Augustus,  a  man  of  prudence  and  sagac- 
ity, being  uncertain  as  to  what  course  he  ought  to  pursue,  called 
for  the  opinion  of  the  master  of  the  high  school  at  Paris.  This 
learned  man  was  convinced  that  Stephen  was  nothing  but  a 
dreamy,  imaginati>^  boy,  and  that  the  whole  movement  was  a 
delusion.  Philip,  therefore,  ordered  the  young  enthusiasts  to 
return  to  their  homes.     But  only  a  part  of  the  boys  obeyed  the 


536  HISTORICAL  SKETCHES. 

royal  order.  Stephen  pretended  to  work  miracles,  and  people 
regarded  him  as  inspired,  and  believed  his  words  to  be  a  higher 
authority  than  the  king's.  So  fully  were  they  given  over  to  his 
influence  that  they  held  the  very  threads  of  his  garments  as 
sacred. 

"This  hero-worship  excited  the  young  prophet's  vanity.  He 
rode  in  a  chariot  decorated  with  flags  and  attended  by  a  numer- 
ous guard.  The  boy-preachers  told  their  followers  that  when 
they  should  reach  the  coast  the  sea  would  retire,  and  they  would 
be  able  to  pass  over  to  Palestine  dry-shod.  With  this  expecta- 
tion they  marched  at  last  toward  the  Mediterranean,  and  came 
to  Marseilles. 

"They  saw  the  splendors  of  the  city,  and  the  beauty  of  the 
sea.  Still  was  their  watchword,  as  they  thought  of  the  desola- 
tion of  Jerusalem,  "  Solyma  lies  in  ruins! ' 

"But  the  Mediterranean  did  not  retire  before  them.  The 
great  harbor  of  Marseilles  was  covered  with  vessels,  and  the 
leaders  of  the  expedition  began  to  look  about  for  seamen  to 
take  the  youtl^ful  army  across  the  sea.  They  found  ship-own- 
ers, at  last,  who  professed  to  be  very  pious,  and  agreed  to  take 
them,  free  of  charge,  to  Syria. 

"The  ships  were  soon  ready,  and  one  by  one  they  left  behind 
the  bright  spires  and  dark  towers  of  the  old  commercial  city. 

"The  weather  was  fair,  the  wind  favorable,  and  the  hearts 
of  the  boys  delighted  alike  in  the  novelty  of  the  enterprise  and 
in  the  beauty  of  the  sky,  the  air,  and  the  sea. 

"One  day  the  sky  was  overcast;  the  wind  arose;  the  vessels 
were  crowded,  and  when  night  settled  upon  the  deep  the  boys 
began  to  be  afraid.  The  wind  increased  in  power  until  it  be- 
came a  gale,  and  a  part  of  the  fleet  was  driven  on  the  rocks 
near  Sardinia,  and  went  down,  and  all  on  board  perished. 

"The  remaining  vessels  directed  their  course  not  to  Syria,  but 
to  Egypt.  Here  the  young  crusaders  discovered  that  they  had 
been  betrayed  into  the  hands  of  slave-traders,  and  that  the 
ship-owners  were  bad  men  who  had  deceived  them,  by  the  ap- 
pearance of  piety,  to  sell  them  as  slaves.  They  all  were  sold 
to  the  Egyptians  and  Persians — the  greater  part  of  them  to  the 
people  of  Alexandria.  Four  hundred  morrtvs  were  bought  by 
the  Caliph  of  Bagdad,  and  nearly  a  thousand  boys  by  the  Gov- 
ernor of  Alexandria." 


ORIGIN  OF  VARIOUS  INVENTIONS,  ETC.     637 

Oi^iGiN  OP  Uai^ious  Inventions  and  (Customs. 

The  Saxonji  first  introduced  archery  in  the  time  of  Voltigeur. 
It  was  dropped  immediately  after  the  conquest,  but  was  revived 
by  the  Crusaders,  they  having  felt  the  effects  of  it  in  their  com- 
bats with  the  Saracens,  who  probably  derived  it  from  the  Par- 
thians.  The  Normans  biought  with  them  the  cross-bow,  but 
after  the  time  of  Edward  II.  its  use  was  supplanted  by  that  of 
the  long-bow,  which  became  the  favorite  national  weapon. 
Bows  and  arrows,  as  weapons  of  war,  were  in  use,  with  stone 
cannon-balls,  as  late  as  1640.  All  the  statutes  for  the  encour- 
agement of  archery  were  framed  after  the  invention  of  gun- 
powder and  fire-arms,  the  object  being  to  prevent  the  ancient 
weapon  becoming  obsolete.  -Yewrtrees  were  encouraged  in 
-church -yards,  for  the  making  of  bows,  in  1642;  hence  their 
generality  in  church-yards  in  England. 

Coats-of-arms,  or  armorial  bearings,  came  into  vogue  in  the 
reign  of  Richard  I.  of  England,  and  became  hereditary  in  fam- 
ilies about  the  year  1 192.  They  took  their  rise  from  the  knights 
painting  their  banners  with  different  figures  to  distinguish  them 
in  the  Crusades. 

The  first  standing  army  of  modern  times  was  established  by 
Charles  VII.  of  France  in  1445.  Previous  to  that  time  the 
king  had  depended  upon  his  nobles  for  contingents  in  time  of 
"war.  A  standing  army  was  first  established  in  England,  in 
1638,  by  Charles  I.,  but  it  was  declared  illegal,  as  well  as  the  or- 
ganization of  the  royal  guards  in  i7^9- 

The  first  permanent  military  band  instituted  in  England  was 
the  yeomen  of  the  guards,  established  in  i486.' 

Guns  were  invented  by  Swartz,  a  German,  about  1378,  and 
bi'ought  into  use  by  the  Venetians  in  1382. 

Cannons  were  invented  at  an  anterior  date.  At  Amberg 
may  still  be  seen  a  piece  of  ordnance  inscribed  1303.  They 
Avere  first  used  at  the  battle  of  Cressy,  in  1346.  In  England 
they  were  first  used  at  the  siege  of  Berwick,  in  1405.  It  was 
not  until  1544,  however,  that  they  were  cast  in  England.  They 
were  employed  on  shipboard  by  the  Venetians  in  1539,  and 
were  in  use  among  the  Turks  about  the  same  time.  An  artil- 
lery company  was  instituted  in  England,  for  weekly  military 
exercises,  in  1610. 


538  HISTORICAL  SKETCHES. 

Dating  from  the  Christian  Era  was  commenced  in  Italy  in 
525,  and  in  England  in  816. 

Pliny  gives  the  origin  of  glass-making  thus:  As  some  mer- 
chants were  carrying  nitre,  they  stopped  near  a  river  issuing 
from  Mount  Carmel.  Not  I'eadily  finding  stones  to  rest  their 
kettles  on,  they  used  some  pieces  of  nitre  for  that  purpose.  The 
fire  gradually  dissolving  the  nitre,  it  mixed  with  the  sand,  and 
a  transparent  matter  flowed,  which,  in  fact,  was  glass. 

Insurance  of  ships  was  first  practiced  in  the  reign  of  Caesar,  in 
45.  It  was  a  general  custom  in  Europe  in  1494.  Insurance 
offices  were  first  established  in  London  in  1667. 

Astronomy  was  first  taught  by  the  Moors,  and  was  intro- 
duced by  them  into  Europe  in  1201.  The  rapid  progress  of 
modern  astronomy  and  geometry  was  destroyed  as  infected 
with  magic,  in  England,  under  the  reign  of  Edward  VI.,  in 

Banks  were  first  established  by  Lombard  Jews  in  Italy.  The 
name  is  derived  from  banco,  a  term  applied  to  the  benches 
erected  in  the  market-places  for  the  exchange  of  money,  etc. 
The  first  public  bank  was  in  Venice,  in  1550.  The  Bank  of 
England  was  established  in  1693.  In  1696  its  notes  were  at 
twenty  per  cent,  discount. 

The  invention  of  bells  is  attributed  to  Pantinus,  Bishop  of 
Nola,  in  Campania,  about  the  year  400.  They  were  originally 
introduced  into  churches  as  a  defense  against  thunder  and  light- 
ning. They  were  first  hung  in  England  at  Croyland  Abbey, 
Lincolnshire,  in  945.  In  the  eleventh  centuiy  and  later  it  was- 
the  custom  to  baptize  them  in  churches  before  they  were  used. 
The  curfew  bell  was  established  in  1068.  It  was  rung  at  eight 
o'clock  in  the  evening,  when  people  were  obliged  to  put  out 
their  fire  and  candle.  The  custom  was  abolished  in  iioo. 
Chimes,  or  musical  bells,  were  invented  at  Alost,  in  Belgium,  in 
1487.  Bell-men  were  appointed  in  London,  in  1556,  to  ring  the 
bells  at  night  and  ciy,  "Take  care  of  your  fire  and  candle,  be 
charitable  to  the  poor,  and  pray  for  the  dead." 

How  many  are  aware  of  the  origin  of  the  word  "boo!"  used 
to  frighten  children?  It  is  a  corruption  of  the  word  Boh,  the 
name  of  a  fierce  Gothic  general,  the  son  of  Odin,  the  mention 
of  whose  name  spread  a  panic  among  his  enemies. 

Book-keeping  was  first  introduced  into  England  from  Italy, 


ORIGIN  OF  VARIOUS  INVENTIONS,  ETC.      539 

by  Peele,  in  1569.  It  was  derived  from  a  system  of  Algebra 
published  by  Burgo  at  Venice. 

Notaries  public  were  first  appointed  by  the  Fathers  of  the 
Christian  Church  to  make  a  collection  of  the  acts  or  memoirs 
of  martyrs  in  the  first  century. 

The  administration  of  the  oath  in  civil  cases  is  of  high  an- 
tiquity. (SeeExodusxxii.il,)  Swearing  on  the  gospels  was 
first  used  in  528.  The  oath  was  first  administered  in  judicial 
proceedings  in  England  by  the  Saxons  in  600.  The  words, 
"  So  help  me  God  and  all  the  saints,"  concluded  an  oath  till 

1550. 

Signals  to  be  used  at  sea  were  first  contrived  by  James  II. 
when  he  was  Duke  of  York,  in  1665.  They  were  afterward 
improved  by  the  French  commander,  Tourville,  and  by  Admi- 
ral Balchen. 

Raw  silk  is  said  to  have  been  made  by  a  people  of  China 
called  Ceres,  150  B.C.  It  was  first  brought  from  India  in  274, 
and  a  pound  of  it  at  that  time  was  worth  a  pound  of  gold.  The 
manufacture  of  raw  silk  was  introduced  into  Europe  from  India, 
by  soiT>e  monks,  in  550.  Silk  dresses  were  first  worn  in  1455. 
The  eggs  of  the  silk-worm  were  first  brought  into  Europe  in 

527- 

The  art  of  printing,  according  to  Du  Halde  and  the  mission- 
aries, was  practiced  in  China  nearly  fifty  years  before  the  Chris- 
tian Era.  In  the  time  of  Confucius,  B.C.  500,  books  were 
formed  of  slips  of  bamboo,  and  about  150  years  after  Christ 
paper  was  first  made;  A.D.  745  books  were  bound  into  leaves; 
A.D.  900  printing  was  in  general  use.  The  process  of  print- 
ing is  simple.  The  materials  consist  of  a  graver,  blocks  of 
wood,  and  a  brush,  which  the  printers  carry  with  them'  from 
place  to  place.  Without  wHeel,  or  wedge,  or  screw,  a  printer 
will  throw  off  more  than  two  thousand  five  hundred  impres- 
sions in  one  day.  The  paper  (thin)  can  be  bought  for  one- 
fourth  the  price  in  China  that  it  can  in  any  other  country.  The 
works  of  Confucius,  six  volumes,  four  hundred  leaves,  octavo, 
can  be  bought  for  twelve  cents.  "  Stamps  for  marking  wares, 
packages,  etc.,  were  in  use  among  the  Roman  tradesmen,  and 
it  is  highly  probable  that,  had  the  modern  art  of  making  paper 
been  known  to  the  ancients,  they  would  have  diffused  it  among 
themselves  and  transmitted  to  posterity  printed  books. 


540  HISTORICAL  SKETCHES. 

From  the  early  commercial  intercourse  of  the  Venetians  with 
China  there  is  reason  to  believe  that  the  knowledge  of  the  art 
and  of  its  application  to  the  multiplying  of  books  was  derived 
from  thence,  for  Venice  is  the  first  place  in  Europe  of  which 
we  have  any  account  in  which  it  was  practiced,  a  government 
•decree  respecting  it  having  been  issued  October  ii,  1441.  Pre- 
vious to  the  year  1450  all  printing  had  been  executed  by  means 
of  engraved  blocks  of  wood;  but  about  this  period  the  great 
-and  accumulating  expense  of  engraving  blocks  of  each  sepai"ate 
work  led  to  the  substitution  of  movable  metal  types.  The 
credit  of  this  great  improvement  is  given  to  Peter  Schoeffer,  the 
assistant  and  son-in-law  of  John  Faust,  of  Mentz  (commonly 
called  Dr.  Faustus).  The  first  book  printed  with  the  cast-metal 
type  was  the  "  Mentz  Bible,"  which  was  executed  by  Faust 
and  Gutenberg  between  the  years  1450  and  1455. 

The  Dutch  claim  to  have  originated  stereotyping.  They 
have,  as  they  say,  a  prayer-book  stereotyped  in  1701.  The  first 
attempt  at  stereotyping  in  America  was  made  in  1775  by  Ben- 
jamin Mecom,  a  printer  of  Philadelphia.  He  cast  plates  for  a 
number  of  pages  of  the  New  Testament,  but  never  completed 
them.  The  first  printing-press  in  America  was  established  at 
Cambridge,  Massachusetts,  in  1639. 

fiLMANAGS. 

The  first  almanac  was  printed  by  Geo.  Von  Furbach  in  1460. 

The  almanac  is  an  institution  bearing  ancient  date.  A  num- 
ber of  manuscript  copies  exist,  dated  as  early  as  the  fourteenth 
century,  and  ranking  among  the  earliest  pi'oductions  of  the 
press  was  "  Purback's  Almanac."  In  1474  Regiomontamus  be- 
gan a  series  of  almanacs  which  was  continued  for  a  third  of  a 
century,  the  price  being  ten  crowns  of  gold.  Nostradamus, 
who  died  in  1566,  is  stated  to  have  been  the  first  to  introduce 
in  the  Almanac  predictions  concerning  the  weather. 

The  first  book  issued  in  the  Middle  Colonies  was  an  almanac, 
printed  by  William  Bradford  in  1685,  near  Philadelphia.  Two 
copies  of  "  Bradford's  Almanac  "  are  known  to  be  in  existence. 
We  give  the  address  of  the  printer  to  the  readers: 

"  Hereby  understand  that  after  great  charge  &  Trouble,  I  have 
brought  that  great  Art  &  Mystery  of  Printing  into  this 
part  of  America;  believing  it  may  be  of  great  service  to  you  in 


ALMANACS.  641 

several  respects;  hoping  to  find  encouragement,  not  only  in  thi» 
Almanack,  but  what  else  I  shall  enter  upon  for  the  use  &  service 
of  the  inhabitants  of  these  Parts.  Some  irregularities  there  be 
in  this  Diary,  which  I  desire  you  to  pass  by  this  year;  for  being 
lately  come  hither,  my  materials  were  misplaced  &  out  of  order, 
whereupon  I  was  forced  to  use  Figures  &  Letters  of  various. 
Sizes;  but  understanding  the  want  of  something  of  this  nature, 
&  being  importuned  thereto,  I  ventured  to  make  public  this; 
desiring  you  to  accept  thereof;  &  by  the  next  (as  I  find  encour- 
agement) shall  endeavour  to  have  things  compleat.  And  for 
the  ease  of  Clarks,  Scriveniers,  &c.,  I  propose  to  print  blank 
Bills,  Bonds,  Letters  of  Attorney,  Indentures,  Warrants,  etc., 
&  what  else  presents  itself,  wherein  I  shall  be  ready  to  serve 
you;  and  remain  your  friend.  W.  Bradford.'' 

"Philadelphia,  the  loth  month,  1685." 

Benjamin  Franklin  began  his  "Poor  Richard's  Almanac"  in 
1733,  and  continued  it  for  twenty-six  years.  The  sale  of  this- 
was  enormous,  and  yet,  at  the  lapse  of  a  century,  it  was  found 
impossible  to  obtain  a  complete  set.  He  is  said  to  have  been 
the  first  American  to  make  use  of  a  nom  de  plume,  and  in  issuing 
his  almanac  he  preferred  the  ideal  character  of  Richard  Saun- 
ders to  plain  Ben  Franklin. 

The  "New  England  Almanac,"  issued  by  Isaac  Thomas,  of 
Worcester,  was  a  worthy  successor  of  Poor  Richard.  It  was 
begun  in  1775,  and  continued  for  forty-two  years;  during  this 
period  it  was  one  of  the  most  popular  issues  of  the  press.  A 
remarkable  instance  of  this  class  of  publications  is  found  in  the 
"  New  England  Almanac  and  Farmer's  Frienil,"  issued  by  D. 
M.  Daboll,  of  Groton,  Connecticut.  This  has  been  continued 
in  the  family  one  hundred  and  twelve  years,  being  now  in  the 
hands  of  the  third  generation.  It  retains  the  old  fashion  of 
weather  predictions. 

These  almanacs  all  had  their  legitimate  aims  and  uses,  strictly 
attending  to  the  business  for  which  they  were  specially  intended 
— the  furnishing  of  meteorological  information,  the  phases  of 
the  sun  and  moon,  the  occurrence  of  noted  events,  useful  re- 
ceipts, and  items  of  general  interest.  The  almanac  of  to-day 
contains  all  of  these  features,  in  combination  with  the  adver- 
tisements of  some  special  article  of  trade  manufactured  by  the 
party  publishing  it. 


542  HISTORICAL  SKETCHES. 

fiN   Old   fiLMANAG. 

The  "American  Almanac  and  Repository  of  Useful  Knowl- 
edge for  the  Year  1835,"  published  in  Boston,  has  the  following 
historical  notice: 

"January  loth,  in  Maury  County,  Tennessee,  at  the  uncom- 
monly advanced  age  of  one  hundred  and  fifty-four  years,  Mrs. 
Betsey  Trantham.  The  following  particulars  are  from  a  notice 
of  her,  dated  Murfreesboro,  Tennessee,  February  22,  as  quoted 
in  the  National  Gazette.  She  was  born  in  Germany,  and  emi- 
grated to  the  British  Colonies  in  America  at  the  time  when  the 
first  settlement  was  made  in  North  Carolina  in  the  year  17 10. 
At  the  age  of  one  hundred  and  twenty  years  her  eyesight  be- 
came almost  extinct,  but  during  the  last  twenty  years  of  her 
life  she  possessed  the  power  of  vision  as  perfectly  as  at  the  age 
of  twenty.  For  many  years  previous  to  her  death  she  was  not 
able  to  work,  and  is  said  to  have  required  great  attention  from 
her  friends  for  many  years  to  prevent  the  temperature  of  her 
body  from  falling  so  low  as  not  to  sustain  animal  life.  At  the 
time  of  her  death  she  had  entirely  lost  the  senses  of  taste  and 
hearing.  For  twenty  years  before  her  death  she  was  unable  to 
distinguish  the  difference  between  the  taste  of  sugar  and  vine- 
gar. At  the  age  of  sixty-five  she  had  her  only  child,  who  is 
now  living  and  promises  to  reach  an  uncommonly  advanced 
age.  We  doubt  whether  the  annals  of  modern  history  can  pro- 
duce as  equally  a  remarkable  instance  of  longevity." 

Under  the  title  "Tennessee,"  the  almanac  concludes  a  long 
and  exhaustive  article  with  the  following: 

"Thus  it  appears  that  the  resources  of  Tennessee  are  almost 
inexhaustible.  No  State  in  the  Union  is  better  able  to  sustain 
her  public  credit  and  meet  her  engagements  with  punctuality 
and  ease  to  her  citizens.  The  probability  is  that  at  no  very  re- 
mote period  her  population  and  wealth  will  be  equal  to  those 
of  the  powerful  State  of  Pennsylvania." 

Engraved  wooden  blocks  for  printing  books,  the  mariner's 
compass  and  rockets,  the  use  of  movable  types,  and  the  proto- 
type of  the  printing-press,  were  all  known  in  China  in  the  tenth 
century.  Pi  Sheng  is  the  name  of  the  man  who  invented  a 
mode  of  making  impressions  with  separate  characters,  five  cent- 
uries before  any  thing  of  the  kind  was  done  in  Europe. 


THE  LABOR  OF  AUTHORSHIP.  643 

She  €i^a  op  I^ews. 

The  wonderful  acceleration  in  the  transmission  of  news 
which  steam,  and  especially  electricity,  have  brought  about  is 
not  generally  appreciated,  especially  by  those  young  people 
whose  memories  extend  back  no  more  than  a  decade.  There  is 
not  a  town  or  village  in  the  United  States,  within  reasonable 
distance  of  a  telegi-aph  line,  that  did  not  learn  of  President  Gar- 
field's danger  long  before  nightfall  on  the  day  he  was  shot. 
Were  it  1841  instead  of  1881,  Cincinnati  would  have  remained 
•in  ignorance  of  the  crime  for  five  or  six  days.  Looking  back 
only  to  1865,  we  find  that  nearly  a  fortnight  elapsed  before  Lin- 
coln's assassination  was  known  in  England.  In  1817,  when  the 
death  of  Princess  Charlotte,  heir  apparent  to  the  crown  of 
Great  Britain,  sent  such  a  thrill  through  Christendom,  the  news 
was  first  published  in  the  United  States  in  the  interior  town  of 
Northampton,  Mass.  A  vessel,  making  an  unusually  quick 
voyage,  had  arrived  at  a  British-American  port.  One  of  the 
passengers,  who  was  hurrying  southward,  was  interviewed 
while  the  stage  stopped  at  Northampton  by  the  enterprising 
editor  of  the  village  paper.  He  immediately  printed  the  news, 
and  thus  beat  the  New  York  and  Boston  publishers.  Such  an 
occurrence,  it  is  hardly  necessary  to  say,  would  be  impossible 
now.  The  whole  civilized  world  is  bound  together  by  a  net- 
work of  wires,  and  every  event  of  importance  is  known  at 
each  point  almost  simultaneous!}-. 

She  Iiabof^  op  fluiPHOi^SHip. 

David  Livingstone  said:  "Those  who  have  never  carried  a 
book  "through  the  press  can  form  no  idea  of  the  amount  of  toil 
it  involves.  The  process  has  increased  my  respect  for  authors 
n  thousand-fold.  I  think  I  would  rather  cross  the  African  Con- 
tinent again  than  undertake  to  write  another  book." 

"  For  the  statistics  of  the  negro  population  of  South  America 
alone,"  says  Robert  Dale  Owen,  "  I  examined  more  than  a  hun- 
dred and  fifty  volumes." 

Another  author  tells  us  that  he  wrote  paragraphs  and  whole 
pages  of  his  book  as  many  as  fifty  times. 

It  is  said  of  one  of  Longfellow's  poems  that  it  was  written 
in  four  weeks,  but  that  he  spent  six  months  in  correcting  and 


544  BIOGEAPHICAL  SKETCHES. 

cuttino-  it  down.  Bulwer  declared  that  he  had  rewritten  some 
of  his  briefer  productions  as  many  as  eight  or  nine  times  before 
their  publication.  One  of  Tennyson's  pieces  was  rewritten  fifty 
times.  John  Owen  was  twenty  years  on  his  "  Commentary  on 
the  Epistle  to  the  Hebrews; "  Gibbon  on  his  "  Decline  and  Fall," 
twenty  years;  and  Adam  Clarke  on  his  "  Commentary,"  twenty- 
six  years.  Carlyle  spent  fifteen  years  on  his  "Frederick  the 
Great."      - 

A  great  deal  of  time  is  consumed  in  reading  before  some 
books  ai'e  prepared.  George  Eliot  read  a  thousand  books  before 
she  wrote  "Daniel  Deronda."  Allison  read  two  thousand  be- 
fore he  completed  his  history.  It  is  said  of  another  that  he  read 
twenty  thousand  and  wrote  only  two  books. 

r^isiPor^Y  OP  A  Song. 

Mr.  Bennett,  a  music- writer,  and  Mr.  Webster  were  intimate 
friends.  The  latter  was  subject  to  melancholy.  He  came  in  to 
where  his  friend  Webster  was  at  business  one  day,  while  in  a 
fit  of  depression  of  spirits. 

"What  is  the  matter  now?"  said  Bennett,  noticing  his  sad 
countenance. 

"No  matter,"  said  Webster;  "it  will  be  all  right  by  and  by." 

"Yes;  that  sweet  by  and  by,"  said  Bennett.  "Would  not 
that  sentiment  make  a  good  hymn,  Webster?  " 

"  Maybe  it  would,"  replied  Webster,  indifferently. 

Turning  to  his  desk,  Bennett  wrote  the  three  verses  of  the 
hymn,  and  handed  them  to  Webster.  When  he  i-ead  them  his 
whole  demeanor  changed.  Stepping  to  his  desk,  he  began  to 
write  the  notes. 

Having  finished  them  he  requested  his  violin,  and  played  the 
melody.  In  a  few  minutes  more  he  had  the  four  parts  of  the 
chorus  jotted  down.  It  was  not  over  thirty  minutes  from  the 
first  thought  of  the  hymn  before  the  two  friends  and  two  others 
who  had  come  in  in  the  meantime  were  singing  all  the  parts  to- 
gethei". 

A  bystander,  who  had  been  attracted  by  the  music,  and  had 
listened  in  tearful  silence,  remarked,  "That  hymn  is  immortal." 

It  is  now  sung  in  every  land  under  the  sun.  No  collection  of 
Sunday-school  or  religious  hymns  is  considered  complete  with- 
out it,  and  tears  flow  freely  when  it  is  skillfully  rendered. 


FRANKLIN'S  RE'S.  646 

©HE   fflOST  ^UI^IOUS   BOOI^   IN   THE  ^OF^LD. 

The  most  singular  bibliographic  curiosity  is  that  which  be- 
longed to  the  family  of  Prince  de  Ligne,  and  is  now  in  France, 
It  is  entitled  "  Liber  Passionis  Domini  Nostri  Jesu  Christi  cum 
Characteribus  Nulla  Materia  Compositis."  This  book  is  neither 
written  nor  printed!  The  whole  letters  of  the  text  are  cut  out 
of  each  folio  upon  the  finest  vellum,  and,  being  interleaved  with 
blue  paper,  it  is  read  as  easily  as  the  best  print.  The  labor  and 
patience  bestowed  in  its  completion  must  have  been  excessive, 
especially  when  the  precision  and  minuteness  of  the  letters  are 
considered.  The  general  execution,  in  every  respect,  is  indeed 
admirable,  and  the  vellum  is  of  the  mo&t  delicate  and  costly  kind. 
Rudolphus  II.  of  Germany  offered  for  it,  in  1640,  eleven  thou- 
sand ducats,  which  was  probably  equal  to  sixty  thousand  at  this 
day.  The  most  remarkable  circumstance  connected  with  this 
literary  treasure  is  that  it  bears  the  royal  arms  of  England,  but 
it  cannot  be  traced  to  have  ever  been  in  that  country. 

Fl^ANI^LIN'S   "FjE'S." 

Dr.  Franklin,  in  England,  in  the  year  1775,  was  asked  by  a 
nobleman  what  would  satisfy  the  Americans.  He  answered 
that  it  might  easily  be  comprised  in  a  few  "Re's,"  which  he 
wrote  on  a  piece  of  paper,  thus: 

Recall  your  forces. 

Restore  Castle  William. 

Repair  the  damage  done  to  Boston. 

Repeal  your  unconstitutional  acts. 

Renounce  your  pretensions  to  taxes. 

Refund  the  duties  you  have  extorted. 

After  this — 

Require  and 

Receive  payment  for  the  destroyed  tea,  with  the  voluntary 
grants  of  the  colonies,  and  then 

Rejoice  in  a  happy 

Reconciliation. 

"Great  oaks  from  little  acorns  grow,"  and  the  refusal   of 
Great  Britain  to  accede   to   these   reasonable   terms    cost  her 
great  treasure  and  the  loss  of  her  strongest  colonies, 
35 


546  HISTORICAL  SKETCHES. 

She  fiNAM  Sl^EASUF^Y. 
The  Emperor  of  Anam  has  a  large  piece  of  water  in  his  pal- 
ace, in  which  he  keeps  his  reserve  treasure,  to  be  touched  only 
in  case  of  absolute  necessity.  The  money  not  intended  for  use 
is  placed  in  the  hollowed-out  trunks  of  trees,  which  are  thrown 
into  the  water.  To  keep  away  thieves,  and  prevent  the  king- 
himself  from  being  tempted  to  draw  upon  this  reserve-fund 
without  sufficient  cause,  a  number  of  crocodiles  are  kept  in  the 
water,  their  presence  and  the  certainty  of  being  eaten  alive  act- 
ing as  a  wholesome  restrainer  and  insuring  the  security  of  the 
royal  treasure  in  a  most  effectual  manner.  When  it  becomes 
indispensable  to  draw  upon  this  novel  style  of  bank  the  croco- 
diles have  to  be  killed;  but  this  can  be  done  only  with  the  em- 
peror's permission  and  after  the  matter  has  been  duly  approved 
by  the  Minister  of  Finance. 

She  Blagi^  Deajph. 

The  black  death  of  the  fourteenth  century,  believed  by  some 
to  have  been  Asiatic  cholera,  although  the  symptoms,  as  de- 
scribed by  the  historians  of  the  day,  differ  widely,  actually  des- 
olated the  world.  It  is  computed  that  13,000,000  perished  in 
China,  and  elsewhere  in  the  East  about  25,000,000  more.  Ger- 
many lost  nearly  1,300,000;  Italy  lost  half  its  entire  population; 
London  alone  in  excess  of  100,000.  In  Europe  fully  30,000,000 
must  have  died,  and,  in  all  quai'ters  of  the  globe,  not  far  from 
70,000,000. 

©HE   Rl^ANGO-^l^USSIAN   ^J^AI^. 

It  may  be  interesting  to  note,  as  an  instance  of  the  costliness 
of  modern  war,  that  the  total  ascertained  expenditure  of  France 
upon  the  war  on  which  she  entered  with  a  light  heart  in  Au- 
gust, 1870,  is  now  declared  to  be  £341,440,000.  As  the  war 
began  in  August  and  ended  in  January,  this  makes  the  cost  to 
France  of  her  march  to  Berlin  almost  exactly  two  millions  a 
day,  without  counting  the  permanent  loss  of  two  of  her  wealth- 
iest provinces. 

It  is  somewhat  singular  that  Washington  drew  his  last  breath 
in  the  last  hour  of  the  last  day  of  the  last  week  of  the  last  month 
of  the  last  year  of  the  last  century.  He  expired  on  Saturday 
night,  at  12  o'clock,  December  31,  1799. 


STATUE  OF  LIBERTY.  647 

p  ^oNDEi^PUii  Bell. 

"The  temples  at  Kioto,  Japan,"  says  a  correspondent  of  the 
Philadelphia  Press,  "are  mainly  of  interest  on  account  of  the 
great  bell,  which  swings  in  a  monster  wooden  belfry  away  up 
the  hill-side  back  of  the  buildings  proper.  This  bell  is  a  huge 
bronze  cup  with  nearly  perpendicular  sides,  a  flat  crown,  and, 
like  all  other  Japanese  bells,  is  sounded  by  means  of  a  huge 
beam  kept  in  place  by  ropes,  but,  when  occasion  requires,  can 
be  brought  against  the  rim  of  the  bell  with  great  force.  It  re- 
quires^ twelve  coolies  to  manipulate  the  beam.  Formerly  it  was 
only  rung  once  a  year,  but  now  it  may  be  heard  two  or  three 
times  a  month.  It  is  one  of  the  greatest  wonders  in  Japan.  It 
is  eighteen  feet  high,  nine  and  one-half  inches  thick,  nine  feet 
in  diameter,  and  weighs  nearly  seventy-four  tons.  It  was  cast 
in  a  monster  mold  in  the  year  1633.  As  the  bell  was  cast  with 
the  rim  up,  the  gold  entering  into  its  composition — computed  to 
be  about  fifteen  hundred  pounds — sunk  to  the  crown.  It  has  a 
magnificent  tone,  and  when  struck  by  the  open  palm  the  vibra- 
tions may  be  heard  at  a  distance  of  one  hundred- yards." 

Statue  op  Ixibei^jiiy. 

The  Bartholdi  statue  of  Liberty  for  the  Bay  of  New  York 
has  at  last  been  turned  over  to  the  United  States  Government, 
and  will  soon  be  transported  in  pieces  to  this  country.  The 
dimensions  of  this  colossus  are  almost  incredibly  large.  The 
figure  alone  stands  105  feet;  the  extreme  length,  from  the  sole 
of  the  foot  to  the  end  of  the  torch  in  the  outstretched  hand,  is 
137  feet  9  inches;  the  pedestal  of  granite  will  be  83  feet  high, 
and  the  two  together  will  give  a  grand  total  of  220  feet  for  the 
entire  work.  The  monument  on  Fish-street  Hill  is  only  202  feet 
high,  and  the  famous  Colossus  of  Rhodes  stood  only  140  feet 
without  his  stockings.  Some  people  predict  that  the  statue  will 
never  stand,  and  that  the  winds  and  waves  will  play  havoc  with 
it.  The  engineers,  however,  are  of  the  opinion  that  it  is  suf- 
ficiently substantial  to  hold  its  own.  The  artistic  merit  of  the 
figure  is  considerable.  The  pose  is  theatrical,  the  drapery  mass- 
ive and  fine,  and  the  general  eflfect  imposing.  It  is  certainly  a 
magnificent  gift,  worthy  of  France  and  worthy  of  America. 


548  HISTORICAL  SKETCHES. 

f^IGH   Bl^IDGES. 

The  highest- bridge  in  the  world  is  said  to  be  the  railway  via- 
duct at  Garabit,  in  France,  now  being  erected  over  i  river  in 
the  Department  of  Cantal.  The  bi'idge  has  a  total  length  of 
about  1, 880  feet,  and  near  the  middle  of  the  great  center  arch, 
which  is  one  of  the  noteworthy  features  of  the  structure,  the 
height  from  the  bed  of  the  river  to  the  rail  is  413  feet.  The 
viaduct  was  commenced  in  1881,  and  is  to  be  completed  next 
year.     The  cost  is  estimated  at  about  $600,000. 

The  Erie  Railway  bridge  at  Kinsua,  near  Bradford,  Pennsyl- 
vania, is  also  an  astonisher.  The  greatest  elevation  of  the 
bridge  (302  feet)  is  18  feet  higher  than  the  spire  of  Trinity 
Church,  24  feet  higher  than  the  summit  of  the  Brooklyn  bridge 
towers  above  high  water,  143  feet  higher  than  their  elevation 
above  the  roadway,  and  82  feet  higher  than  Bunker  Hill  Monu- 
ment. The  bridge  is  2,052  feet  long.  The  iron  in  the  bridge 
w^eighs  over  4,000,000  pounds;  the  stone  foundations  measure 
7,000  cubic  yards;  and  over  1,400  pounds  of  paint  were  used  to 
cover  the  work.  The  load  which  the  structure  is  proportioned 
to  carry  is  a  train  of  the  heaviest  consolidated  engines  covering 
it  from  end  to  end;  and  under  this  load  no  part  will  be  strained, 
it  is  said,  more  than  one-fifth  of  its  breaking  strength.  The 
cost  of  the  work  was  in  the  neighborhood  of  $300,000. 

Hew  '^0^l{  AND   Bl^OOI^LYN    Bl^IDGB. 

First  talked  of  by  Col.  Julius  W.  Adams  about  1855.  Act 
of  incorporation  passed  April,  1866.  Survey  begun  by  John 
A.  Roebling,  1869.  Construction  begun,  January  2,  1870.  First 
rope  thrown  across  the  river,  August  14, 1876.  Master-mechanic 
Farrington  crossed  in  a  boatswain's  chair,  August  25,  1876. 
Depth  of  the  New  York  foundation  below  high-water  mark, 
78  feet,  6  inches.  Depth  of  the  Brooklyn  foundation  below 
high-water  mark,  45  feet.  The  New  York  tower  contains 
46,945  cubic  yards  of  masonry;  the  Brooklyn  tower,  38,214. 
Weight  of  the  Brooklyn  tower,  about  93,079  tons.  Weight  of 
the  New  York  tower,  about  a  third  more.  Size  of  the  towers 
at  high-water  line,  140x59  feet;  at  roof  course,  136x53.  Height 
of  the  towers  above  high-water  mark,  276  feet  6  inches.  Height 
of  roadway  in  the  clear  in  the  middle  of  the  East  River,  135 
feet.    Grade  of  the  roadway,  3  feet  3  inches  to  100  feet.    Width 


MASON  AND  DIXON'S  LINE.  549 

of  the  promenade  in  the  center  of  bridge,  i6-  feet  7  inches. 
Width  for  railway  on  one  side  of  the  promenade,  12  feet  10 
inches.  Width  of  carriage-way,  on  the  other  side  of  the  prom- 
enade, 18  feet  9  irtches.  Width  of  bridge,  85  feet.  Length  of 
main  span,  1,595  feet  6  inches.  Length  of  each  land  span,  930 
feet.  Length  of  the  Brooklyn  approach,  971  feet.  Length  of 
the  New  York  approach,  1,560  feet.  Length  of  each  of  the 
four  great  cables,  3,578  feet  6  inches;  diameter,  15J  inches; 
number  of  steel  galvanized  wires  in  each  cable,  5,434;  weight 
of  each  cable,  about  800  tons.  Ultimate  strength  ofeach  cable, 
15,000  tons.  Weight  of  steel  in  the  suspended  superstructure, 
10,000  tons.    Total  cost,  $15,000,000.    Opened  for  traffic  in  1883. 

Suspension  Bi^idge,  I^iagai^a  Ralls. 

Engineer,  John  A.  Roebling.  Height  of  towers  on  Amer- 
ican side,  88  feet.  Height  of  towers  on  Canadian  side,  78  feet. 
Length  of  bridge,  800  feet.  Width  of  bridge,  24  feet.  Height 
above  the  river,  250  feet.  Number  of  cables,  4.  Diameter  of 
cables,  10  inches,  containing  about  4,000  miles  of  wire.  Ulti- 
mate capacity  of  the  four  cables,  12,400  tons.  Total  weight  of 
bridge,  800  tons.  Distance  between  railway  track  and  carriage 
road  below,  28  feet.  Cost  of  construction,  $500,000.  Bridge 
first  opened  for  railway  traffic,  March  8,  1855.  Estimated  depth 
of  water  in  the  channel  beneath  the  bridge,  250  feet.  Velocit)' 
of  current,  20  miles  per  hour.  Velocity  of  whirlpool  rapids, 
27  miles  per  hour.  Quantity  of  water  passing  through  the 
gorge  per  mi'nute,  1,500,000,000  cubic  feet. 

CQason  and  Dixon's  Lcine. 

A  name  given  to  the  southern  boundary-line  of  the  free  State 
of  Pennsylvania,  which  formerly  separated  it  from  the  slave 
States  of  Maryland  and  Virginia.  It  was  run — with  the  excep- 
tion of  about  twenty-two  miles — by  Charles  Mason  and  Jere- 
miah Dixon,  two  English  mathematicians  and  surveyors,  be- 
tween November  15,  1763,  and  December  26,  1767.  During 
the  excited  debates  in  Congress,  in  1820,  on  the  question  of 
excluding  slavery  from  Missouri,  the  eccentric  John  Randolph, 
of  Roanoke,  made  great  use  of  this  phrase,  which  was  caught 
up  and  re-echoed  by  every  newspaper  in  the  land,  and  thus 
gained  a  celebrity  which  it  still  retains. 


650  HISTORICAL  SKETCHES. 

(©HAI^AGJPBI^  OP    IPHB   IGBLANDEI^S. 


BY  EBENEZER  HENDERSON. 


The  early  settlers  of  Iceland,  like  those  of  New  England, 
were  a  race  well  fitted  to  leave  a  high  state  of  moral  feeling  and 
intelligence  to  their  descendants.  Many  of  them  were  distin- 
guished men  of  Norway,  who  jDreferrqd  exile  to  oppression  at 
home,  and  who  carried  to  their  adopted  country  the  germ  of  re- 
publican institutions  and  of  the  knowledge  that  can  best  uphold 
them. 

The  most  prominent  traits  in  the  Icelanders  are  a  love  of  their 
country,  hospitality,  intelligence,  simplicity,  and  piety.  Though 
social,  they  are  rather  disposed  to  be  serious.  It  would  almost 
seem  that  happiness  and  simplicity  of  character  had  deserted 
the  sunny  skies  and  fertile  fields  of  Southern  Europe  to  nestle 
among  the  icy  crags  and  volcanic  ruins  of  the  frozen  zone. 

It  is  not  so  much  the  literary  fame  of  a  few  select  individuals, 
who  have  enjoyed  superior  advantages,  which  strikes  our  atten- 
tion, as  the  universal  diffusion  of  the  general  principles  of 
knowledge  among  its  inhabitants.  Though  there  is  only  one 
school  in  Iceland,  and  that  solitary  school  is  exclusively  de-' 
signed  for  the  education  of  such  as  are  afterward  to  fill  offices 
in  the  Church  or  State,  yet  it  is  exceedingly  rare  to  meet  with  a 
boy  or  girl  who  has  attained  the  age  of  nine  or  ten  years  that 
cannot  read  and  write  with  ease. 

Domestic  education  is  most  rigidly  attended  to,  and  it  is  no 
uncommon  thing  to  hear  youths  repeat  passages  from  the  Greek 
and  Latin  authors  who  have  never  been  further  than  a  few 
miles  from  the  place  where  they  were  born.  On  many  occa- 
sions, indeed,  the  common  Icelanders  discover  an  acquaintance 
with  the  history  and  literature  of  other  nations  which  is  per- 
fectly astonishing. 

A  winter  evening  in  an  Icelandic  family  presents  a  scene  in 
the  highest  degree  interesting  and  pleasing.  Between  three 
and  four  o'clock  the  lamp  is  hung  up  in  the  principal  apart- 
ment, which  answers  the  double  purpose  of  a  bed-chamber  and 
sitting-room,  and  all  the  members  of  the  family  take  their  sta- 
tions, with  their  work  in  their  hands,  on  their  respective  beds, 
all  of  which  face  each  other. 


CHARACTER  OF  THE  ICELANDERS.  661 

The  master  and  mistress,  together  with  the  children  or  other 
relations,  occupy  the  beds  at  the  inner  end  of  the  room;  the 
rest  are  filled  by  the  servants.  The  work  is  no  sooner  begun 
than  one  of  the  family,  selected  on  purpose,  advances  to  a  scat 
near  the  lamp,  and  commences  the  evening  lecture,  which  gen- 
erally consists  of  such  histories  as  are  to  be  obtained  on  the 
island. 

Being  but  badly  supplied  with  printed  books,  the  Icelanders 
are  under  the  necessity  of  copying  such  as  they  can  get  the  loan 
of,  which  sufficiently  accounts  for  the  fact  that  most  of  them 
write  a  hand  equal  in  beauty  to  that  of  the  ablest  writing-mas- 
ters in  other  parts  of  Europe.  Some  specimens  of  their  Gothic 
writing  are  scarcely  inferior  to  copper-plate. 

The  reader  is  frequently  interrupted  either  by  the  head  or 
some  of  the  more  intelligent  members  of  the  family,  who  make 
remarks  on  various  parts  of  the  story,  and  propose  questions 
with  a  view  to  exercise  the  ingenuity  of  the  children  and  serv- 
ants. At  the  conclusion  of  the  evening  labors,  which  are  fre- 
quently continued  till  near  midnight,  the  family  join  in  singing 
a  psalm  or  two,  after  which  a  chaptei;  from  some  book  of  devo- 
tion is  read,  if  the  family  be  not  in  possession  of  a  Bible;  but 
where  this  Sacred  Book  exists  it  is  preferred  to  every  other.  A 
prayer  is  also  read  by  the  head  of  the  family,  and  the  exercise 
concludes  with  a  psalm.  Their  morning  devotions  are  con- 
ducted in  a  similar  manner. 

When  the  Icelander  awakes  he  does  not  salute  any  person 
that  may  have  slept  in  the  room  with  him.  but  hastens  to  the 
door,  and  lifting  up  his  eyes  toward  heaven,  adores  Him  who 
made  the  heavens  and  the  earth,  the  Author  and  Preserver  of 
his  being,  and  the  Source  of  every  blessing.  He  then  returns 
into  the  house  and  salutes  every  one  he  meets  with,. "  God  grant 
you  a  good  day." 

There  being  no  parish  schools,  nor,  indeed,  any  private  estab- 
lishments for  the  instruction  of  youth  in  Iceland,  their  mental 
culture  depends  entirely  on  the  disposition  and  abilities  of  the 
parents.  In  general,  however,  neither  of  these  is  wanting;  for 
the  natives  of  this  island  are  endowed  with  an  excellent  natural 
understanding,  and  their  sense  of  national  honor,  formed  by 
their  familiar  acquaintance  with  the  character  and  deeds  of  their 
forefathers,  spurs  them  to  emulation,  independent  of  the  still 


652  SISTORICAL  SKETCHES. 

more  powerful  inducement  arising  from  the  necessity  and  im- 
portance of  religious  knowledge. 

The  children  are  taught  their  letters,  either  by  the  mother  or 
some  other  female,  and  when  they  have  made  some  progress  in 
reading  they  are  taught  writing  and  arithmetic  by  the  father. 
Every  clergyman  is  bound  to  visit  the  different  families  in  his 
parish  twice  or  thrice  a  year,  on  which  occasion  he  catechises 
both  young  and  old;  but  the  exercise  is  attended  to  chiefly  with 
a  reference  to  the  former,  in  order  to  ascertain  what  degree  of 
knowledge  they  possess  of  the  fundamental  principles  of  Chris- 
tianity. 

These  are  all  the  means  of  instruction  which  the  great  bulk 
of  the  Icelandic  youth  enjoy;  nevertheless  the  love  of  knowl- 
edge, superinduced  by  the  domestic  habits  of  those  who  are 
their  superiors  in  point  of  age  and  mental  acquirements,  often 
prompts  them  to  build  of  their  own  accord  on  the  foundation 
that  has  thus  been  laid;  and  I  have  frequently  been  astonished 
at  the  familiarity  with  which  many  of  these  self-taught  peasants 
have  discoursed  on  subjects  which  in  other  countries  we  should 
expect  to  hear  started  by  those  only  who  fill  the  professor's 
chair,  or  who  have  otherwise  devoted  their  lives  to  the  study 
of  science. 

Beau  Bi^ummel. 

Beau  Brummel  was  the  leader  of  London  society  in  the  early 
part  of  this  century.  His  polished  manners  and  taste  in  dress 
made  him  a  social  favorite.  Young  men  imitated  him;  nobles 
sought  his  acquaintance,  and  he  was  an  honored  guest  in  the 
most  exclusive  drawing-rooms.  Thousands  admired  the  fasci- 
nating Beau,  and  envied  the  career  of  the  most  successful  "  so- 
ciety man"  among  the  gay  and  pleasure-loving  crowds  of 
London. 

But  he  became  one  of  the  most  unhappy  men  in  the  British 
Isles,  and  his  life  ended  as  a  disastrous  wreck.  A  fortune  had 
been  spent  in  dissipation;  debts  to  a  vast  amount  accumulated, 
and  his  word  of  honor  came  to  have  no  higher  value  than  his 
credit.  He  was  compelled  to  leave  England,  ruined  alike  in 
fortune  and  reputation,  and  to  lead  a  miserable  life  in  the  North 
of  France. 

This  man,  who  had  been  the  admiration  of  London,  writes 
to  a  friend:  "God  knows  my  existence  is  solitary  enough.     Of 


BE  A  U  BE  UMMEL.  553 

that,  however,  I  should  not  complain,  for  I  can  always  employ 
resources  within  myself,  were  there  not  a  worm  that  will  not 
sleep,  called  conscience,  which  all  my  endeavors  to  distract,  all 
the  strength  of  coffee  with  which  I  constantly  fumigate  my 
brains,  and  all- the  gayety  of  the  fellow  who  bears  it  to  me,  can- 
not lull  to  indifference  beyond  a  moment." 

No  wonder  that  conscience  was  busy.  He  had  wasted  life 
and  health  in  vicious  pleasures.  He  could  hardly  recall,  in  the 
years  in  which  he  had  been  a  social  leader,  one  generous  aspi- 
ration, one  noble  act.  He  had  not  only  ruined  himself,  but  his 
example  and  personal  influence  had  brought  sorrow  and  shame 
into  many  homes.  A  critic,  not  disposed  to  be  severe,  says  of 
him:  "Never  did  any  influence  create  such  wide  and  real  mis- 
chief in  society.  The  cry  of  indignation  that  was  raised  at  his 
departure,  when  he  left  so  many  of  his  friends,  who  had  be- 
come his  securities,  to  pay  the  means  of  his  past  extravagances, 
some  of  them  at  the  risk  of  their  own  ruin,  was  a  low  and  feeble 
whisper  when  compared  to  the  groans  of  entire  families,  who 
have  since  had  to  deplore  those  vices  and  misfortunes  which 
first  originated  in  his  wickedness.  What  a  long  list  of  ruin, 
desolation,  and  suicide  could  I  now  trace  to  this  very  source!" 

No  one  can  envy  such  a  career  who  follows  it  to  its  end.  It 
was  a  curse  to  society,  and  the  gayety  and  the  brilliant  reputa- 
tion he  enjoyed  were  as  nothing  when  set  over  against  the 
gnawing  remorse  of  his  later  years.  It  does  seem  that  even  a 
youth  whose  ambition  is  to  be  known  as  a  "  society  man  "  could 
not  envy  such  a  life,  should  he  have  sense  enough  to  pass  be- 
yond its  temporary  brilliancy  and  contemplate  its  bitter  end. 

The  life  of  the  insect  that  basks  in  the  noonday  sun  and 
dies  at  eventide  may  be  worth  living,  seeing  that  it  is  faithful 
to  the  purpose  of  its  being.  But  a  life  whose  thorough  selfish- 
ness says,  "Evil,  be  thou  my  good!"  recalls  the  words  of  the 
Master,  "  Good  were  it  for  that  man  if  he  had  never  been  born." 

The  Kalmucks  live  in  Southern  Russia.  They  are  small  in 
size.  The  men  have  beardless  faces,  thick,  colorless  lips,  and 
long,  coarse,  black  hair.  Their  food  is  for  the  most  part  a 
species  of  oatmeal,  with  pieces  of  cooked  horse-flesh.  Their 
religion  is  a  sort  of  paganism,  which  leads  them  to  believe  in 
various  incarnations  of  a  deity. 


554  HISTORICAL  SKETCHES. 

DESGI^IPTION  op  the  ^EI^SON  of  elESUS  ^HI^ISJF. 

The  following  description  is  alleged  to  be  derived  from  an 
ancient  manuscript  sent  by  Publius  Lentellus,  President  of  J{i- 
dea,  to  the  Senate  of  Rome: 

"There  lives  at  this  time  in  Judea  a  man  of  singular  charac- 
ter, w^hose  name  is  Jesus  Christ.  The  barbarians  esteem  him 
as  their  prophet,  but  his  followers  adore  him  as  the  immediate 
offspring  of  the' immortal  God.  He  is  endowed  with  such  un- 
paralleled virtue  as  to  call  back  the  dead  from  their  graves,  and 
to  heal  every  kind  of  disease  with  a  word  or  a  touch.  His  per- 
son is  tall  and  elegantly  shaped;  his  aspect  amiable  and  rever- 
end; his  l^air  flows  in  those  beauteous  shades  which  no  united 
colors  can  match,  falling  in  graceful  curls  below  his  ears,  agree- 
«  ably  couching  on  his  shoulders,  and  parting  on  the  crown  of 
his  head;, his  dress,  that  of  the  sect  of  Nazarites;  his  forehead 
is  smooth  and  large;  his  cheeks  without  blemish,  and  of  roseate 
hue;  his  nose  and  mouth  are  formed  with  exquisite  symmetry; 
his  beard  is  thick  and  suitable  to  the  hair  of  his  head,  reaching 
a  little  below  his  chin,  and  parting  in  the  middle  below;  his 
eyes  are  clear,  bright,  and  serene.  He  rebukes  with  mildness, 
and  invokes  with  the  most  tender  and  persuasive  language — his 
whole  address,  whether  in  word  or  deed,  being  elegantly  grave 
and  strictly  characteristic  of  so  exalted  a  being.  No  man  has 
seen  him  laugh,  but  the  whole  world  beholds  him  weep  fre- 
quently, and  so  persuasive  are  his  tears  that  the  whole  multi- 
tude cannot  withhold  their  tears  from  joining  in  sympathy  with 
him.  He  is  moderate,  temperate,  and  wise — in  short,  whatever 
the  phenomenon  may  turn  out  in  the  end,  he  seems  at  present 
to  be  a  man  of  excellent  beauty  and  divine  perfections,  every 
way  surpassing  man." 

€li  (Qahdi. 

About  the  middle  of  the  ninth  century  a  boy  four  years  old 
became  Imaum  in  Bagdad.  Six  years  afterward  he  disappeared, 
and  his  mother  and  servants  asserted  that  he  had  gone  down 
into  a  fountain  in  the  garden,  declaring  that  he  would  return 
when  he  had  learned  the  will  of  the  Lord. 

Since  then  the  Shiahs,  a  certain  sect  of  the  Mohammedans, 
have  taught  that  he  was  still  living,  and  would  reappear  with 


EL  MAHDI.  555 

the  prophet  Elijah,  and  establish  Islamism  as  a  universal  re* 

ligion. 

It  has  always  been  expected  and  predicted  that  the  "  Mahdi," 
or  "Guide,"  would  appear  in  Arabia.  But  the  man  whose  fol- 
lowers assert  him  to  be  this  lost  Imaum  and  the  Mahdi  is  an 
Egyptian  named  Ahmed  Suleiman. 

He  was  formerly  Accountant-general  of  the  Soudan.  He 
was  also  a  dealer  in  slaves,  ivory,  gum  arable,  and  other  goods, 
and  headed  the  slave-traders  in  their  rebellion  against  the  Khe- 
dive, when  an  attempt  was  made  to  check  their  traffic. 

Dr.  Tenny,  who  is  probably  the  only  American  who  has  seen 
the  Mahdi,  describes  him  as  a  spare,  tall  man,  with  dark  olive 
complexion  and  brilliant  eyes,  and  clad  in  a  white  robe  and  tur- 
ban. He  possesses  in  a  high  degree  that  peculiar  magnetism 
which  .controls  large  bodies  of  men.  He  protests  that  he  is 
not  the  lost  Imaum,  but  is  the  "Voice  of  Allah"  sent  to  "lead 
Islam  until  it  covers  the  face  of  the  earth."  His  followers,  how- 
ever, insist  that  he  is  the  boy*who  disappeared  in  the  fountain 
a  thousand  years  ago. 

Almost  every  nation  possesses  the  tradition  of  a  lost  hero 
who  still  lives,  and  will  return  to  lead  it  to  victory. 

In  Asia  it  is  Gautama,  or  Buddah;  in  England  King  Arthur 
was  believed  to  have  entered  into  a  ship  and  sailed  away  into 
the  fog  and  mist.  There  are  songs  and  traditions  yet  extant 
which  show  how  long  and  how  faithfully  the  Britons  clung  to 
the  hope  that  he  would  some  day  return  and  drive  out  both 
Saxon  and  Norman  invader. 

In  Spain  the  great  Saracenic  chief,  Boabdil,  was  believed  for 
centuries  by  the  lower  classes  of  the  people  to  be  lying  in  an 
enchanted  sleep  in  a  cave  with  his  knights,  some  day  to  awake 
and  sally  forth. 

Even  in  this  new  country  we  have  the  old  navigator,  Hendrik 
Hudson,  who,  according  to  Dutch  tradition,  only  sleeps  in  the 
Kaatskills,  and  bides  his  time  to  come  out  and  see  how  the 
world  has  grown  since  he  left  it. 

The  city  of  Atlanta,  Ga.,  was  first  called  Marthasville,  after 
the  daughter  of  Mr..Lumpkin,  who  donated  five  acres  of  ground 
at  that  point,  and  so  decided  the  terminus  of  the  Western  and 
Atlantic  Railroad.   The  name  was  afterward  changed  to  Atlanta. 


556  HISTOniCAL  SKETCHES. 

SinBWAi^jp's  CQai^yblous  CQemop^y. 

Stewart  was  the  typical  tradesman  of  modern  times.  He  was 
a  tradesman  every-where^at  church,  at  his  club,  at  home.  He 
never  forgot  the  most  trifling  details  of  his  business;  he  knew 
and  remembered  the  pattern  of  every  piece  of  goods  that  had 
ever  been  on  his  shelves.  Stewart  belonged  to  the  Century 
Club,  although  he  rarely  visited  its  rooms.  The  club  once 
bought  a  carpet  of  his  people,  and  when  it  had  been  down  for 
several  months  Stewart  happened  to  come  in.  He  seemed  to 
be  greatly  interested  in  the  carpet,  studying  it  attentively. 

"  Where  did  you  buy  that?"  he  demanded,  at  last,  of  one  of 
the  house  committee. 

"At  your  place,  I  believe." 

"Impossible!"  rejoined  the  millionaire.  "We  never  had  this 
pattern  in  stock.  We  have  had  a  pattern  exactly  similar,  ex- 
cept that  those  little  violet  flowers  were  white." 

The  committeeman  took  the  -trouble  to  hunt  through  his 
vouchers,  and  produced  a  receipted  bill  of  A.  T.  Stewart  &  Co. 
Mr.  Stewart  shook  his  head.  "  There  is  some  mistake,"  he  said; 
"the  little  flowers  on  our  carpeting  were  white." 

It  was  found  on  investigation  that  the  little  flowers  had  been 
white — so  offensively  white  and  spotty  to  the  eyes  of  some  of 
the  aesthetic  members  of  the  club  that  Louis  Laing  had  care- 
fully gone  over  them  all  with  a  stiff"  brush  dipped  in  violet  ink. 

5^  Famous  Dwai^p. 

About  the  time  Tom  Thumb  arrived  in  Paris  a  celebrated 
rival  dwarf  had  just  died  there.  He  was  a  scion  of  the  De 
Richebourg  family,  and  a  trifle  over  half  a  yard  in  height.  He 
lived  at  the  court  of  Philip  Egalite,  as  butler  to  the  Duchess, 
when  fifteen  years  old.  Afterward,  on  the  revolution,  he  was 
denounced,  but  escaped  dressed  as  a  baby,  with  his  head  wrap- 
ped in  a  bourrelet,  and  important  papers  concealed  in  his  swad- 
dling-clothes. For  thirty  years  De  Richebourg  lived  in  the 
Faubourg  St.  Germain,  and  never  went  beyond  the  court-yard. 
He  was  very  shy,  and  avoided  being  seen  in  public,  but  with 
his  friends  was  animated  and  witty.  He  had  a  pension  of  three 
thousand  francs  from  the  Orleans  family,  and  died  at  the  age  of 
ninety-two. 


HIS  LAST  SERMON.  667 

fl  Famous  FJunnbi^. 

Fifty  years  ago  his  renown  spread  all  over  Europe.  Thib 
was  Ernest  Mensen.  His  exploits  make  the  pedestrian  feats  of 
the  present  day  look  insignificant.  He  was  a  runner  who  first 
came  into  notice  by  running  from  Paris  to  Moscow,  a  distance 
of  1,760  miles,  in  thirteen  days  and  eighteen  hours. 

In  1836  he  ran  through  Central  Asia  from  Calcutta  to  Con- 
stantinople, bearing  dispatches  for  the  E^st  India  Company. 
The  distance  is  5,615  miles,  and  he  accomplished  it  in  fifty-nine 
days,  one-third  of  the  time  taken  by  the  swiftest  caravan.  A 
favorite  employment  for  him  was  as  the  messenger  extraor- 
dinary of  sovereigns.  He  ran  from  country  to  country,  bear- 
ing letters  and  dispatches  of  the  highest  import,  and  always 
beat  mounted  couriers  when  matched  against  them.  He  never 
walked,  but  always  ran.  Invariably  he  took  the  direct  route  to 
his  destination,  climbing  mountains,  swimming  rivers,  and  guid- 
ing himself  through  forests  in  a  way  known  only  to  himself. 
His  food  was  a  small  quantity  of  biscuit  and  raspberry  syrup. 
His  rests  he  took  twice  in  twenty-four  hours,  when  he  usually 
leaned  against  some  support,  covered  his  face  with  a  handker- 
chief, and  slept.  If  he  was  compelled  to  remain  quiet  any 
length  of  time,  he  complained  of  giddiness  and  rush  of  blood 
to  the  head. 

In  1842  he  was  employed  to  discover  the  source  of  the  Nile. 
Starting  from  Silesia  in  May,  1843,  he  ran  to  Jerusalem,  thence 
to  Cairo,  and  up  the  banks  of  the  Nile  into  upper  Egypt.  Just 
outside  the  village  of  Lyang  he  was  seen  to  stop  and  rest,  lean- 
ing against  a  palm-tree,  his  face  covered,  as  was  his  wont.  He 
rested  so  long  that  some  persons  tried  to  wake  him.  They  tried 
in  vain,  for  he  was  dead. 

Y}IS  LLftST  Sbi^mon. 

The  father  of  the  Rev.  S.  Irenaeus  Prime,  D.D.,  the  senior 
editor  of  the  New  York  Observer,  spoke  and  wrote  at  seventy 
years  of  age  with  the  same  energy  as  at  forty.  On  the  last 
evening  of  his  life,  he  was  writing  a  sermon  on  the  "  Love  of 
God."  He  had  advanced  into  the  middle  of  the  discourse,  and 
had  quoted  the  words  of  "  the  disciple  whom  Jesus  loved,"  as 
recorded  in  i  John  iv.  16:  "He  that  dwelleth  in  love  dwelleth 


558  BISTOBICAL  SKETCHES. 

in  God,  and  God  in  him."  He  laid  down  his  pen  and  went  to 
bed.  In  the  language  of  his  son,  "  the  angels  came  for  him, 
and  when  he  fell  asleep  they  bore  his  spirit  to  the  bosom  of 
him  whose  love  he  celebrated  with  the  last  effort  of  his  mind 
and  pen."  Like  Enoch,  he  "  walked  with  God;  and  he  was  not, 
for  God  took  him."  Twenty-five  years  have  passed  since  that 
night.  If  the  love  of  God  was  so  precious  on  earthj  what 
glorious  discoveries  of  God's  amazing  love  have  been  made  by 
him  while  "absent  flfom  the  body  and  present  with  the  Lord!" 

©HE  People  op  (©anton. 

I  wish  it  were  possible  in  this  short  sketch  of  Canton  to  con- 
vey some  adequate  idea  of  this  marvelous  place  to  the  reader — 
its  crowded  streets,  well-filled  shops,  swarming  .population, 
myriads  of  boats  on  the  river,  and  restless  energy.  But  no 
word-picture  can  give  a  notion  of  this  strange  city,  which  is 
supposed  now  to  have  nearly  2,000,000  of  inhabitants,  and  to 
be  built  on  less  space  than  an  English  town  of  200,000  people. 
Not  an  inch  of  space  seems  to  be  wasted.  The  streets,  too 
narrow  for  any  vehicle,  and  in  many  parts  only  just  wide 
enough  for  a  couple  of  sedan-chairs  to  pass  each  other  with 
difficult}^  have  on  either  side  of  them  houses  of  several  stories, 
all  crammed  with  human  beings,  who  live  Heaven  alone  knows 
how,  but  are  full  of  energy  and  perseverance,  and  appear  to  be 
perpetually  in  motion;  while  the  boats  on  the  river,  which  are 
estimated  to  contain  nearly  30,000  people,  many  of  whom  hardly 
ever  step  ashore,  are  tenanted  by  a  populace  that  rests  hardly 
night  nor  day,  and  exists  under  conditions  which  would  be  im- 
possible to  any  Europeans.  Yet  these  people  are  in  the  enjoy- 
ment of  health.  They  are  not  so  large  as  the  Chinamen  of  the 
North,  but  they  are  wiry  and  strong;  their  women  pull  the  boats 
all  over  the  river  with  a  force  that  would  shame  some  English- 
men, and  there  is  a  cheerfulness  every-where  which  can  but  be 
observed.  Strange  to  say,  too,  there  are  very  few  obnoxious 
smells  in  the  whole  of  this  thickly-populated  place,  and  the 
streets,  even  in  wet  weather,  are  extremely  clean.  I  know 
many  an  avenue  in  London  which  could  not  compare  with  these 
Chinese  thoroughfares  for  healthiness,  and  yet  there  can  be  na 
drainage.     The  fact  is  that  all  refuse  in  this  highly-cultivated 


BOW  THE  NORTH-WEST  WAS  SAVED.        559 

country  is  held  to  be  valuable,  and  is  carefully  carried  away 
every  morning  to  a  distance  from  the  town,  where  it  is  saved 
up  and  used  for  enriching  the  soil.  And  so  it  comes  about  that 
by  this  plan  of  utilizing  the  sewerage  of  the  city  the  place  is 
kept  sweet  and  epidemics  and  zymotic  diseases  are  almost  un- 
known. It  is  true  that  the  Cantonese  have  the  reputation  of 
being  dirty  feeders,  and  certainly  the  pressed  ducks,  fat  pork, 
strange  fish,  and,  worst  of  all,  the  cat  and  dog  stalls,  bear  out 
the  charge  to  a  great  extent.  But  I  think  I  detected  a  humor- 
ous twinkle  in  the  eye  of  the  Chinese  cook  whom  I  saw  frying 
a  cat  in  the  Chiu-hing  street,  and  my  guide  declared  that  none 
but  the  lowest  Cantonese  ever  thought  of  devouring  tabbies. 
That  the  little  "chow"  dog  was  regarded  as  a  delicacy  there 
was  every  evidence  to  show,  and  I  learnt  that  his  hams  were 
estimated  at  two  dollars  a  pound.  But,  after  all,  we  in  England 
eat  the  red  mullet  and  the  duck,  of  whose  habits  the  less  said 
the  better;  so  that  perhaps  the  consumption  of  "chow"  dog 
may  not  be  so  very  dreadful.  There  was,  on  the  other  hand,  a 
Chinese  restaurant  where  130  different  dishes  might  be  had, 
while  some  of  the  food  which  I  tasted  was  as  delicate  in  its  fla- 
vor and  as  clean  in  its  appearance  as  though  it  had  been  cooked 
in  a  cafe  on  the  Boulevard  des  Italiens. 

I5OW  IPHB   nOI^TH-WBST  WAS  SAYBD. 

Oregon  and  Washington  Territory  have  just  been  bound  to  the 
Union  by  iron  bands.  Forty  years  ago  a  statesman  came  near 
trading  them  off  to  Great  Britain.  The  foresight  of  a  home 
missionary.  Dr.  Marcus  Whitman,  saved  them  to  the  nation. 

Dr.  Whitman  had  crossed  the  plains  and  mountains  to  Ore- 
gon, and  knew  from  a  few  years'  residence  the  value  of  the 
country.  He  also  knew  that  the  Hudson  Bay  Company  were 
anxious  to  obtain  possession  of  the  whole  North-west,  and  had 
circulated  the  report  that  it  was  impossible  for  immigrants  to 
cross  the  mountains  in  wagons. 

At  a  dinner  given  in  1842,  where  the  doctor  and  several  of 
the  company's  chief  officers  were  present,  news  was  received 
that  a  band  of  British  immigrants  had  crossed  the  mountains. 
Toasts  were  drank  in  honor  of  the  event.  "Now  the  Ameri- 
cans may  whistle;  the  country  is  ours,"  said  one  of  the  English- 
men, boastingly. 


560  HISTORICAL  SKETCHES. 

"God  helping  me,  the  country  is  not  yours,"  said  the  Doctor 
to  himself,  as  he  left  the  table.  The  next  day  he  started  for 
Washington  on  horseback.  He  made  the  journey  in  winter, 
and  with  frozen  limbs  called  on  Daniel  Webster,  the  Secretary 
of  State.  On  presenting  his  case  he  was  bluffly  told  by  Mr. 
Webster  that  the  country  was  worthless. 

"  Wagons  cannot  cross  the  mountains,"  said  the  Secretary. 
"Sir  George  Simpson,  who  is  here,  affirms  that.  I  am  about 
trading  that  worthless  region  for  some  valuable  concessions  in 
relation  to  the  Newfoundland  fisheries." 

Finding  that  a  treaty  had  already  been  approved  by  the  Sen- 
ate, and  was  awaiting  formal  ratification  and  the  signature  of 
President  Tyler,  Dr.  Whitman  sought  the  President.  After 
listening  to  his  story,  Mr.  Tyler  said: 

"  Dr.  Whitman,  your  frozen  limbs  and  leather  breeches  attest 
your  sincerity.  Can  you  take  emigrants  across  the  mountains 
in  wagons?" 

"  Give  me  six  months  and  I  will  take  one  thousand  emigrants 
across,"  answered  the  Doctor. 

"Well,"  replied  the  President,  "  if  you  take  them  across  the 
treaty  shall  not  be  ratified." 

In  1843  ^  band  of  emigrants,  under  the  guidance  of  the  Doc- 
tor, started  from  Missouri  for  Oregon.  A  deputation  from  the 
Hudson  Bay  Company  met  them  on  the  plains,  who  affirmed 
that  it  was  impossible  to  cross  the  mountains  with  their  wagons. 
The  emigrants  almost  decided  to  leave  their  wagons  and  finish 
the  journey  on  horseback. 

As  this  course  would  have  ruined  Dr.  Whitman's  plan  of  sav- 
ing Oregon  to  the  United  States,  he  labored  with  the  leaders  of 
the  band  until  they  consented  to  follow  the  doctor's  advice  and 
guidance.  The  band  did  cross  the  mountains  in  their  wagons, 
the  treaty  was  not  ratified,  and  the  fertile  North-west  was  saved 
to  the  nation. 

The  oldest  and  largest  tree  in  the  world  is  a  chestnut  near 
the  foot  of  Mount  Etna.  It  is  hollow,  and  large  enough  to  ad- 
mit two  carriages  driving  abreast  through  it.  The  circumfer- 
ence of  the  main  trunk  is  212  feet.  The  Grizzly  Giant,  monarch 
of  the  Mariposa  Grove,  measures  ninety-two  feet  in  circumfer- 
ence. 


UNEJCPLOJiED  AND  UNKNOWN.  661 

fl   liAND  OP    SEAGHBS. 

We  arc  reminded  of  old  "Johnny  Appleseed,"  and  other 
tree-planters  and  scatterers  of  good  fruit-seeds  as  we  read  the 
following.  Such  benefactors  are  met  more  than  half-way  by 
Dame  Nature  in  soils  so  responsive  and  climate  so  kind  as  here 
described. 

In  the  neighborhood  of  Sydney,  Australia,  such  fruit  as  the 
peach,  nectarine,  apricot,  plum,  fig,  grape,  cherry,  and  orange 
are  as  plentiful  as  blackberries. 

The  orangeries  and  orchards  of  New  South  Wales  are  among 
its  sights,  and  in  the  neighborhood  of  Sydney  and  Port  Jackson 
there  are  beautiful  groves  of  orange-trees,  which  extend  in 
some  places  down  to  the  water's  edge.  Individual  settlers  have 
groves  which  yield  as  many  as  thirty  thousand  dozen  oranges 
per  annum.     One  may  "sit  under  his  own  vine  and  fig-tree." 

If  a  peach-stone  is  thrown  down  in  almost  any  part  of  Aus- 
tralia where  there  is  a  little  moisture,  a  tree  will  spring  up, 
which  in  a  few  years  will  yield  handsomely. 

A  well-known  botanist  used  formerly  to  carry  a  small  bag  of 
peach-stones  to  plant  in  suitable  places,  and  many  a  wandering 
settler  has  blessed  him  since. 

Pigs  were  formerly  often  fed  on  peaches,  as  was  done  in  Cal- 
fornia,  a  country  much  resembling  South  Australia.  It  is  only 
of  late  years  that  they  have  been  utilized  in  both  places  by  dry- 
ing and  otherwise  preserving. 

A  basket-load  may  be  obtained  in  the  Sydney  markets  during 
the  season  for  a  few  pence.  The  summer  heat  of  Sydney  is 
about  that  of  Naples,  while  the  winter  corresponds  with  that 
of  Sicily.  0 

Unbxploi^bd  and  Uni^nown. 

The  English  are  beginning  in  a  vague  way  to  realize  the 
liiagnitude  of  India,  and  to  comprehend  that  it  contains  some 
fifty  millions  more  people  than  all  Europe  west  of  the  Vistula. 
Few,  however,  are  quite  aware  of  the  number  of  its  cities,  or 
believe  that  it  includes  sixty-two  with  more  than  50,000  people 
and  twenty-two  with  more  than  100,000 — namely:  Bombay, 
Calcutta,  Madras,  Hyderabad,  Lucknow,  Benares,  Delhi,  Patna, 
Agra,  Bangalore,  Umritsur,  Cawnpore,  Lahore,  Allahabad, 
Jeypore,  Rangoon,  Poona,  Ahmedabad,  Bareilly,  Surat,  Howra, 
36 


562  HISTORICAL  SKETCHES. 

and  Baroda.  We  give  them  in  the  order  of  population,  but, 
properly  speaking,  in  the  English  way  of  counting,  Howra,  the 
Southwark  of  Calcutta,  should  be  included  in  the  capital,  which 
w^ith  it  contains  above  866,000  souls,  and  is  the  greatest,  as  it  is 
by  far  the  wealthiest,  city  in  the  empire.  Below  the  limit  of 
50,000  the  towns  become  more  numerous,  and  there  are  hun- 
dreds with  populations  above  20,000.  The  majority  of  the  latter 
are  quite  unknown  to  Europeans,  an  active  magistrate  or  two 
excepted,  and  so  far  as  we  are  aware  there  is  no  book  in  Eng- 
land which  gives  the  slightest  account  of  their  organization  or 
of  the  life  and  people  in  them.  Yet  many  of  them  have  histo- 
ries of  two  thousand  years,  and  in  all  flourish  families  which 
think  themselves  noble,  and  have  long  pedigrees  and  stirring 
tales  to  naiTate.  We  hear  much  every  now  and  then  of  Indian 
princes,  who  in  India  are  hardly  mentioned,  and  of  "educated 
natives,"  a  scarcely  perceptible  class;  but  of  the  true  "British 
India"  as  little  is  known  at  home  as  of  the  eastfern  provinces 
of  Peru. 

fl    ©OWEI^PUli   F^IYAIi. 

A  Washington  letter  to  the  Louisville  Post  says:  The  an- 
nouncement that  the  English  Government  is  going  to  put  $150,- 
000,000  into  railways  in  India,  provided  that  the  same  amount 
will  be  invested  by  private  enterprise  in  that  country,  is  looked 
upon  here  as  a  matter  of  very  grave  importance  to  the  agricult- 
ural interests  of  this  country.  Already  England  has  the  best 
facilities  for  the  transportation  of  wheat  between  India  and 
England,  and  indeed  between  India  and  all  other  grain-con- 
suming countries.  The  subsidies  granted  to  these  iron  steam- 
ship lines  by  England  have  been  already  so  great  that  the  mar- 
kets of  that  country  have  been  threatened  with  grain  at  very  low 
prices  from  India.  The  chief  obstacle  to  this  has  been  the  lack 
of  transportation  in  India.  With  $300,000,000  to  put  into  rail- 
ways this  obstacle  will  be  overcome,  and  with  "ryot"  labor  in 
India  at  fi'om  seven  to  ten  cents  a  day,  it  is  easy  to  see  how 
cheap  wheat  maybe  made.  The  "ryot"  or  agricultural  laborer 
of  India  is  very  numerous.  He  numbers  several  times  as  many 
as  the  entire  population  of  the  United  States.  His  methods  of 
cultivation  are  very  primitive,  but  with  hundreds  of  millions  of 
these  seven-cent  a  day  fellows  stirring  the  ground  with  sharp- 


CENTRAL  AFRICA.  IM3 

cned  sticks  drawn  by  lean  oxen,  which,  like  their  owners,  are 
not  overfed,  the  wheat  produced  is  something  marvelous.  One 
of  the  consular  officers,  writing  to  the  State  Department  re- 
cently, said  that  in  his  opinion  this  was  the  most  serious  obstacle 
that  the  agricultural  interests  of  this  country  have  to  contend 
with.  There  are  such  large  numbers  of  these  Indian  agricult- 
urists that  they  can  produce  wheat  for  almost  nothing.  In  his 
communication  he  stated  frankly  that  should  the  question  of 
cheap  transportation  be  solved  by  the  construction  of  railroads 
or  canals  in  connection  with  the  present  facilities,  the  result,  as 
to  its  effect  upon  the  wheat-growers  of  this  country,  might  be 
very  serious.  The  agriculturists  of  that  country,  he  says,  are 
unlike  our  growers.  These  people  are  w  illing  to  wait  until  the 
market  is  high  before  disposing  of  their  products.  They  have 
little  use  for  money,  so  far  as  their  habits  of  life  go,  and  as  they 
produce  every  thing  they  eat  they  can  afford  to  keep  their  grain 
until  they  can  get  their  prices.  He  says  they  have  a  habit  in 
that  country  of  storing  the  wheat  in  the  ground,  digging  pits 
and  lining  them  with  straw,  and  thus  keeping  the  grain  for 
years  if  necessary. 

^BNTI^AL  flPF^IGA. 

In  six  years  Henry  M.  Stanley  has  succeeded  in  establishing 
a  chain  of  international  stations  across  the  African  Continent. 
In  1880  he  founded  Viva,  the  first  of  the  series  of  stations  in 
Western  Africa.  Before  the  end  of  the  third  year  Leopoldville, 
a  station  on  Stanley  Pool  at  the  head  of  the  lower  cataracts,  and 
the  key  of  Upper  Congo,  was  founded,  and  four  steamers  were 
launched  on  the  great  river.  In  1883  the  station  of  Stanley 
Falls,  1,000  miles  up  the  river,  was  founded.  About  2,600  miles 
of  river  transit  of  the  Congo  and  its  tributaries  are  open  to 
commerce  by  this  chain  of  stations.  The  imports  to  the  west 
coast  of  Africa  last  year  were  over  $22,000,000,  while  the  ex- 
ports were  over  $27,000,000. 

There  are  thirty-eight  large  volcanoes  in  Java,  some  of  which 
are  more  than  10,000  feet  high.  It  is  a  peculiarity  of  the  vol- 
canoes of  that  region  that  they  seldom  eject  lava,  but  enormous 
masses  of  mud.  "Rivers  of  mud,"  as  they  have  been  called, 
flow  from  them. 


664  HISTORICAL  SKETCHES. 

^HILI— r^BF^  CQlNBS  AND  QlNBI^S. 

As  mining  was  pursued  before  the  Spanish  conquest,  so  it 
has  ever  since  been  the  chief  occupation  of  the  people.  The 
native  baretoris,  or  miner,  is  a  skillful  workman,  unsuri^assed  by 
the  miner  of  any  other  country  in  the  mere  handicraft  of  his 
calling;  more  enduring  and  more  expert  in  the  handling  of  his 
tools  than  a  Cornishman,  but  so  slow  in  acquiring  any  foreign 
methods  that  he  seldom  rises  to  the  position  of  a  superintendent 
of  a  mine  worked  on  European  systems,  and  can  rarely  be  en- 
trusted even  with  timbering,  which  is  therefore  done  by  Corn- 
ishmen.  Formerly  the  miners  composed  a  guild,  to  enter  which 
the  applicant  had  to  pass  through  a  long  apprenticeship  and 
then  proye  himself  efficient  in  his  art;  but  since  the  extraordi- 
nary demand  for  miners  that  the  enormous  extension  of  copper 
mining  has  of  late  years  occasioned,  they  by  no  means  form  as 
distinct  a  class  as  they  did. 

Children  enter  the  mines  at  eight  or  ten  years  of  age,  and  be- 
gin by  carrying  light  loads.  Some  ultimately  attain  the  position 
of  miners,  or  baretoris,  others  remain  as  carriers,  or  apirs.  The 
baretoris  is  certainly  an  expert  workman.  In  England,  the  cus- 
tom is  for  the  miner  to  hold  and  manipulate  the  drill,  while  a 
subordinate — the  striker — manages  the  hammer.  The  Chilian 
miner,  however,  handles  both  hammer  and  drill,  a  mode  of 
mining  known  as  single-hand  drilling,  which  is  growing  in 
favor  in  some  of  the  mining  districts  of  the  United  States. 
Though  guiding  the  drill  with  one  hand  only,  and  guiding  a 
heavy  hammer  with  the  other,  a  good  miner  will  strike  so  accu- 
rately as  to  perforate  the  hammer  to  the  depth  of  one  and  a 
half  inches  with  a  hole  into  which  the  drill-head  will  just  fit. 
As  he  woi'ks  he  accompanies  each  blow  with  a  grunt,  that  oc- 
casionally breaks  into  a  very  pretty  cadence. 

The  apir,  or  carrier,  must  also  be  educated  to  his  work.  The 
apir  wears  very  little  clothing,  and  bears  his  burden  on  his  back 
in  a  wide-mouthed  leather  basket.  The  average  load  is  200 
pounds,  and  this,  the  rule  is,  he  has  to  raise  600  feet  without 
stopping.  But  far  heavier  loads  have  been  carried  as  tests  of 
strength.  Darwin  mentions  as  an  extraordinary  feat  300  pounds 
being  brought  from  a  deep  mine  by  an  apir;  but  a  more  sur- 
prising instance  of  endurance  was  exhibited  when  Mr.  Urme- 


CHILI— HER  MINES  A^D  MINERS.  566 

neta  was  collecting  specimens  for  the  London  Exhibition  in 
185 1.  An  apir  is  said  to  liave  carried  to  surface  from  a  depth 
of  iSo  yards  (540  feet)  in  the  Pique  mine  a  mass  of  ore  weigh- 
ing 350  pounds.  In  the  native  mines  the  galleries  are  narrow, 
crooked,  and  often  low,  and  these  galleries  at  different  depths 
are  connected  with  others  as  narrow  and  low  (such  as  in  En- 
glish parlance  would  be  winzes),  and  which  are  vertical,  or  in- 
clined, as  the  dip  of  the  vein  is  steep  or  flat.  Instead  of  being 
provided  with  ladders,  the  notched  trunks  of  small  trees,  tied 
«nd  to  end  by  leather  thongs,  supply  the  means  of  passage  from 
one  level  to  another.  Up  these  notched  sticks  the  apir  drags 
his  heavy  load,  and  down  them  he  swings  himself  with  his 
empty  capacho,  at  the  rate  that  only  a  life-time  of  practice  can 
enable  him  to  attain.  On  reaching  the  surface  he  is  a  pitiable 
object — streaming  with  perspiration,  his  breast  heaving,  every 
muscle  quivering,  uttering  a  painful,  wheezing,  whistling  cry, 
^nd  apparently  about  to  drop  from  exhaustion.  He  leans  for  a 
few  seconds  against  the  nearest  support,  tilts  the  load  out  of  his 
basket,  and  rushes  back  down  the  ladders  and  through  the 
rough,  narrow  galleries  with  the  zest  of  a  school-boy  hunying 
from  his  tasks.  An  accident  seldom  occurs,  and  both  apirs 
and  miners  appear  healthy.  Their  occupations  are,  however, 
inimical  to  longevity,  and  their  habits  of  life  do  not  act  as  a 
•cprrective. 

They  are  a  reckless,  spendthrift  race.  Before  railroads  con- 
nected the  Chanaral  mines  with  the  coast  the  miners  were  paid 
but  once  a  year.  Pay-day  was  just  prior  to  the  Dischiocho,  the 
i8lh  of  September,  the  festival  of  the  declaration  of  national 
independence,  the  Chilian  Fourth  of  July,  but  which  Chilians 
keep  up  for  a  whole  week;  patriotism,  as  expressed  in  bells 
and  dissipation,  not  being  so  subservient  to  business  as  in  the 
United  States.  The  Chanaral  miners  then  left  their  desert 
mines  and  their  year's  work,  and  always  succeeded  in  spending 
their  year's  pay  in  a  week  of  debauchery  and  thoughtlessness. 
The  miner's  wife  would  buy  a  cashmere  shawl  and  a  silk  dress, 
in  which,  after  flaunting  in  them  for  a  week  in  the  post,  she 
would  sit  down  to  break  and  pick  ore;  and  her  husband,  to 
show  that  he  was  not  penurious,  would  order  at  the  tavern  a 
^20  punch;  that  is,  he  would  order  $3o  worth  of  spirits  to  be 
poured  into  a  glass  of  ordinary  size,  and  what  the  glass  did  not 


666  HISTORICAL  SKETCHES. 

hold  must  of  course  flow  upon  the  table,  and  from  thence  stream 
down  u^Don  the  floor.  In  his  ostentation,  a  miner  has  been 
known  to  oi'der  a  $ioo  punch.  What  escaped  the  tavern-keeper 
was  sure  to  be  lost  in  gambling, 

She  Dismal  Swamp. 

A  Virginia  paper  tells  some  things  which  are  not  generally 
known  about  the  Dismal  Swamp.  It  is  not  a  vast  bog,  sunk 
low  in  the  ground,  into  which  the  drainage  of  the  sun-ounding 
country  flows.  On  the  contrary,  it  is  above  the  level  ground 
some  fifteen  or  twenty  feet,  as  was  demonstrated  by  actual  sur- 
veys. Instead  of  being  a  receptacle  into  which  i-ivers  and 
streams  enter  and  flow,  it  is  in  reality  an  immense  reservoir 
that,  in  its  vast,  sponge-like  bulk,  gathers  the  waters  that  fall 
from  the  heavens  and  pours  them  into  the  five  different  rivers 
which  flow  onward  to  the  sea.  Any  one  would  imagine  that 
the  Dismal  Swamp  was  a  veritable  charnel-house  that  spreads 
its  miasmas  throughout  the  country.  On  the  contrary,  it  is  the 
healthiest  place  on  the  American  Continent.  The  swamp  is 
entirely  of  green  timber.  There  is  absolutely  no  decomposed 
wood;  one  sees  no  trees  lying  around  the  forests  and  swamps. 
The  two  principal  woods  that  grow  in  the  place  are  the  juniper 
and  the  cypress,  which  never  rot.  They  fall  prone  on  the 
ground  like  other  trees,  but,  instead  of  the  wood  decomposing, 
it  turns  into  peat,  and  lies  indissoluble  by  air  and  water  for 
ages  perfectly  sound.  There  is  nothing  in  the  swamp  to  create 
miasma — no  rising  of  the  tides  and  decomposition  of  rank  veg- 
etables, no  marshes  exposed  to  the  burning  rays  of  the  sun. 
All  is  fresh  and  sweet,  and  the  air  is  laden  with  as  sweet  odors 
as  the  fragrant  woods  in  May,  when  the  fragrance  of  the  flow- 
ers mingle  with  the  pungent  scent  of  the  pine  and  dogwood. 
In  the  ante-beUum  days  all  planters  were  anxious  to  hire  their 
slaves  to  shingle-makers  in  the  swamp,  on  account  of  its  health- 
fulness.  Mr.  Reddick,  a  well-known  contractor,  says  he  worked 
a  gang  of  fifty  hands  in  the  Dismal  Swamp,  getting  shingles, 
and  in  all  that  time  there  was  not  a  single  case  of  ague  and 
fever.  I  have  seen  numerous  affidavits  of  overseers  and  agents 
who  have  lived  in  the  swamp  their  whole  life-time,  and  they 
never  knew  of  a  death  caused  by  miasma,  or  a  solitai'y  instance 
of  ague  or  fever.     The  air  is  pure  and  sweet,  and  the  water. 


THE  OLDEST  CITY.  567 

tinged  to  a  faint  wine  hue  by  the  juniper,  is  as  potent  a  med- 
ical drink  as  is  to  be  found  in  the  famous  watering-places  of 
the  Virginia  mountain  spas.  It  is  often  used  by  vessels  going 
on  a  foreign  cruise,  on  account  of  its  healthful  properties,  and 
also  because  it  keeps  fresh  and  clear  for  years.  It  is  a  strong 
and  invigorating  tonic,  with  a  pleasant  taste.  . 

©HE   BLAGI^   r^OLB   OP   (sJaLGUTTA. 

This  celebrated  place  of  confinement  was  only  eighteen  feet 

by  eighteen,  containing,  therefore,  three  hundred  and  twenty- 
four  square  feet.  When  Fort  William  was  taken,  in  1756,  by 
Surajah  Dowla,  Nabob  of  Bengal,  one  hundred  and  forty-six 
persons  were  shut  up  in  the  Black  Hole.  The  room  allowed  to 
each  person  a  space  of  twenty-six  and  a-half  inches  by  twelve 
inches,  which  was  just  sufficient  to  hold  them  without  their 
pressing  violently  on  each  other.  To  this  dungeon  there  was 
but  one  small  grated  window,  and  the  weather  being  very  sul- 
try, the  air  within  could  neither  circulate  nor  be  changed.  In 
less  than  an  hour  many  of  the  prisoners  were  attacked  with 
extreme  difficulty  of  breathing;  several  were  delirious,  and  the 
place  was  filled  with  incoherent  ravings,  in  which  the  cry  for 
water  was  predominant.  This  was  handed  them  by  sentinels, 
but  without  the  effect  of  allaying  their  thirst.  In  less  than  four 
hours  many  were  sufToc.ited,  or  died  in  violent  delirium.  In 
five  hours  the  survivors,  except  those  at  the  grate,  were  frantic 
and  outrageous.  At  length  most  of  them  became  insensible. 
Eleven  hours  after  they  were  imprisoned  twenty-three  only  of 
the  one  hundred  and  forty-six  came  out  alive,  and  those  were 
in  a  highly  putrid  fever,  from  which,  however,  by  fresh  air  and 
proper  attention,  they  gradually  recovered. 

She  Oldesip  (sufy.. 

The  poetic  and  exalting  associations  which  naturally  gather 
around  the  places  we  find  mentioned  in  Holy  Writ  are  too  apt 
to  be  rudely  dispelled  on  nearer  view  and  closer  acquaintance; 
for  the  ravages  of  time  and  the  neglect  of  degenerate  govern- 
ments have  left  most  of  them  forlorn  and  repulsive,  and  inhab- 
ited by  forlorn  and"  repulsive  people — so  travelers  say.  The 
still  surviving  beauty  and  importance  of  Damascus,  however, 


568  RISTOBICAL  SKETCHES. 

in  spite  of  all  disadvantages,  make  it,  in  a  measure,  an  excep- 
tion in  the  long  roll  of  decay  and  departed  glory.  We  may 
well  venerate  and  admire  the  spectacle  of  the  first  city  in  his- 
tory outliving  so  many  younger  and  greater  ones.  Its  thousands 
of  years  are  a  kind  of  immortality. 

Damascus  is  the  oldest  city  in  the  world.  Tyre  and  Sidon 
have  crumbled  on  the  shore;  Baalbec  is  a  ruin;  Palmyra  is 
buried  in  a  desert;  Nineveh  and  Babylon  have  disappeared  from 
the  Tigris  and  the  Euphrates.  Damascus  remains  what  it  was 
before  the  days  of  Abraham — a  center  of  trade  and  travel — an 
island  of  verdure  in  the  desert — "  a  presidential  capital,"  with 
martial  and  sacred  associations  extending  through  thirty  cent- 
uries. 

It  was  near  Damascus  that  Saul  of  Tarsus  saw  the  light  above 
the  brightness  of  the  sun;  the  street  that  is  called  Straight,  in 
which  it  was  said  "he  prayed,"  still  runs  through  the  city.  The 
caravan  comes  and  goes  as  it  did  a  thousand  years  ago;  there  is 
still  the  sheik,  the  ass,  and  the  water-wheel;  the  merchants  of 
the  Euphrates  and  the  Mediterranean  still  "occupy"  these 
"  with  the  multitude  of  their  wares." 

The  city  which  Mohammed  surveyed  from  a  neighboring 
height,  and  was  afraid  to  enter  "because  it  was  given  to  man 
to  have  but  one  paradise — and  for  his  part  he  was  resolved  not 
to  have  it  in  this  world" — is  to-day  what  Julian  called  the 
"Eye  of  the  East,"  as  it  was  in  the  time  of  Isaiah  "  the  Head  of 
Syria." 

From  Damascus  came  the  damson  (our  blue  plum),  and  the 
delicious  apricot  of  Portugal,  called  damasco;  damask,  our 
beautiful  fabric  of  cotton  and  silk,  with  vines  and  flowers  raised 
upon  a  smooth,  bright  ground;  the  damask  rose,  introduced 
into  England  in  the  time  of  Henry  VIII.;  the  Damascus  blade, 
so  famous  the  world  over  for  its  keen  edge  and  wonderful  elas- 
ticity, the  secret  of  whose  manufacture  was  lost  when  Tamer- 
lane carried  the  artist  into  Persia;  and  that  beautiful  art  of 
inlaying  wood  and  steel  with  gold  and  silver — a  kind  of  mosaic, 
engraving,  and  sculpture  united,  called  damaskeening — with 
which  boxes,  bureaus,  and  swords  are  ornamented.  It  is  still 
a  city  of  flowers  and  bright  waters;  the  streams  of  Lebanon 
and  the  "  silk  of  gold  "  still  murmur  and  sparkle  in  the  wilder- 
ness of  the  Syrian  gardens. 


WESTMINSTER  ABBEY.  669 

OJESTMINSIPEI^  fiBBBY. 


BY  B08E  Q.  KIMGSLEY. 


Twelve  hundred  years  ago,  in  the  reign  of  King  Sigebert  the 
Saxon,  a  poor  fisherman  called  Edric  was  casting  his  nets  one 
Sunday  night  into  the  Thames.  He  lived  on  the  Isle  of  Thorns, 
a  dry  spot  in  the  marshes,  some  three  miles  up  the  river  from 
the  Roman  fortress  of  London.  The  silvery  Thames  washed 
against  the  island's  gravelly  shores.  It  was  covered  with  tan- 
gled thickets  of  thorns;  and  not  so  long  before,  the  red-deer 
and  elk  and  fierce  wild  ox  had  strayed  into  its  shades  from  the 
neighboring  forests. 

Upon  the  island  a  little  church  had  just  been  built,  which 
was  to  be  consecrated  on  the  morrow.  Suddenly  Edric  was 
hailed  from  the  further  bank  by  a  venerable  man  in  strange 
attire.  He  ferried  the  stranger  across  the  river,  who  entered 
the  church  and  consecrated  it  with  all  the  usual  rites — the  dark 
night  being  bright  with  celestial  splendor.  When  the  cere- 
mony was  over  the  stranger  revealed  to  the  awe-struck  fisher- 
man that  he  was  St.  Peter,  who  had  come  to  consecrate  his  own 
Church  of  Westminster.  "For  yourself,"  he  said,  "go  out  into 
the  river;  you  will  catch  a  plentiful  supply  of  fish  whereof  the 
greater  part  shall  be  salmon.  This  I  have  granted  on  two  con- 
ditions— first,  that  you  shall  never  again  fish  on  Sundays;  sec- 
ondly, that  you  shall  pay  a  tithe  of  them  to  the  Abbey." 

The  next  day,  when  bishops  and  king  came  with  a  great  train 
to  consecrate  the  church,  Edric  told  them  his  story,  presented  a 
salmon  "from  St.  Peter  in  a  gentle  manner  to  the  bishop,"  and 
showed  them  by  the  marks  of  consecration  that  their  pious 
work  was  already  done. 

So  runs  the  legend.  And  on  the  site  of  that  little  church 
dedicated  to  St.  Peter,  in  the  thorn-grown  island  in  the  marshes, 
grew  up  centuries  later  the  glorious  Abbey  that  all  English  and 
American  boys  and  girls  should  love.  For  that  Abbey  is  the 
record  of  the  growth  of  our  two  great  nations.  Within  its 
walls  we  are  on  common  ground.  We  are  "in  goodly  com- 
pany," among  those  who  by  their  words,  and  deeds,  and  ex- 
amples have  made  England  and  America  what  they  are. 
America  is  represented  just  as  much  as  England  "by  every 


570  HISTORICAL  SKETCHES. 

monument  in  the  Abbey  earlier  than  the  Civil  Wars."  And 
within  the  last  few  years  England  has  been  proud  to  enshrine 
in  her  Pantheon  the  memories  of  two  great  and  good  Ameri- 
cans— George  Peabody,  the  philanthropist,  and  Henry  Words- 
worth Longfellow,  the  poet. 

Hew  yoi^i^  IN  iFHB  Olden  Sime. 

1626.  The  Island  of  Manhattan  purchased  from  the  Indians 
for  twenty-four  dollars. 

1633.  The  first  schoolmaster,  church,  and  pastor. 

1643.  The  houses  in  the  city  at  this  period  were  naostly  one- 
story  cabins,  with  roofs  of  straw  and  chimneys  of  wood. 

1650.  The  first  lawyer  (Dirk  Van  Schellyne)  commenced 
practice  in  this  city. 

1656.  The  first  houses  built  in  Wall  street. 

1657.  The  "chest"  being  empty,  the  town  drummer's  salaiy 
could  not  be  paid.     Average  price  of  the  best  lots,  fifty  dollars. 

1658.  Rent  of  an  average  good  house,  fourteen  dollars  pet* 
annum. 

1659.  A  day  of  prayer  set  apart  in  New  Amsterdam  on  ac- 
count of  the  progress  of  Qiiaker  doctrines 

1664.  Population  of  the  city,  1,500. 

1684.  No  swine  permitted  to  run  in  the  streets.  The  ship- 
ping belonging  to  the  port  consisted  of  three  ships,  three  barks, 
twenty-three  sloops,  and  forty-six  small  boats. 

1685.  The  city  takes  upon  itself  the  support  of  public  joau- 
pers;  and,  in  the  first  place,  Top  Knot  Betty  to  have  three  shil- 
lings per  week,  and  Scarbank  to  have  a  new  suit. 

1691.  A  ducking-stool  (for  punishment  of  criminals)  erected 
on  the  wharf  in  front  of  the  City  Hall. 

1695.  The  streets  cleaned  by  contract,  at  thirty  pounds  per 
annum. 

1697.  Lamps  first  hung  out  from  every  seventh  house,  upon 
a  pole  extending  from  the  window. 

1705.  Population  of  the  city,  5,250. 

171 1.  A  purchase  made  of  eighteen  rush-bottom  chairs  and  an 
oval  table,  for  the  use  of  the  Common  Council. 

1714.  City  watch  increased  to  six  men. 

1725.  The  first  newspaper  published  by  William  Bradford. 


THE  CENTER  OF  POPULATION.  571 

1 73 1.  Rip  Van  Dam,  Lieutenant-governor. 

1740.  Snow  six  feet  on  a  level;  the  Hudson  frozen  over  at 
New  York. 

1752.  The  East  River  frozen  over  so  that  a  double-horse  sleigh 
passed  over  to  Long  Island. 

1 76 1.  The  Narrows  frozen  over. 

liAI^B  SUPBI^IOI^. 
Lake  Superior  is  140  miles  wide,  and  contains  32,000  square 
miles.  It  is  the  largest  body  of  fresh  water  on  the  globe.  The 
length  of  coast  line  is  1,500  miles,  and  the  average  depth  1,000 
feet.  It  is  630  feet  above  the  sea-level.  As  the  country  be- 
comes opened  up  by  the  railroads,  and  accommodations  in- 
crease, this  region  is  becoming  annually  more  popular  as  a  sum- 
mering place,  extensively  patronized  from  all  parts  of  the 
country,  but  more  especially  by  the  people  of  the  central  and 
southern  West.  Nowhere  on  the  inland  waters  of  North 
America  is  the  scenery  so  bold  and  grand  as  on  the  shores  of 
Lake  Superior.  The  "pictured  rocks"  have  been  famous  ever 
since  the  discovery  of  the  lake.  On  the  shores  are  numerous 
Indian  and  half-breed  settlements,  whose  inhabitants  find  con- 
genial occupation  in  fishing  and  hunting  in  the  yet  wild  regions 
surrounding.  The  lake  has  many  varieties  of  excellent  fish,  the 
most  valuable  being  whitefish,  sturgeon,  and  trout. 

©HE  (sENTBI^  OP   J^OPULATION. 

One  of  the  most  interesting  publications  of  the  Census  Bu- 
reau is  the  map  showing  the  movement  of  the  center  of  popula- 
tion from  the  East  to  the  West.  This  point,  as  determined  at 
the  close  of  each  decade  since  1790,  when  the  first  census  was 
taken,  has  moved  along  a  wavy  line  which  crosses  and  re- 
crosses  the  39th  parallel  of  latitude,  but  never  touches  another 
parallel  on  either  side. 

The  first  enumeration  located  the  center  of  population  on  the 
Eastern  Shore  of  Maryland,  about  twenty-three  miles  east  of 
Baltimore,  and  probably  twenty  miles  north  of  the  39th  parallel, 
which  passes  through  the  northern  outskirts  of  Washington 
City.  Cape  May  is  exactly  on  the  39th  parallel,  as  is  also  To- 
peka,  Kansas.  Cincinnati  is  two  or  three  miles  to  the  north  of 
the  line. 


572  HISTORICAL  SKETCHES. 

I^BI^OISM   AND  ^I^UBLTY. 

A  most  touching  instance  of  heroism,  and  one  of  the  most 
atrocious  acts  of  cruelty,  the  truth  of  which  is  vouched  for  by 
the  most  respectable  authority,  occurred  during  the  Colombian 
struggle  for  independence. 

The  Spanish  General  Morillo,  the  most  blood-thirsty  and 
treacherous  tool  of  the  Spanish  king,  was  created  Count  of 
Cartagena  and  Marquis  de  la  Poeria  for  services  which  rather 
•entitled  him  to  butcher  hangman.  While  seated  in  his  tent  one 
day  he  saw  a  young  boy  before  him  drowned  in  tears.  The 
<;bief  demanded  of  him  for  what  purpose  he  was  there. 

The  child  replied  that  he  had  come  to  beg  the  life  of  his 
father,  then  a  prisoner  in  Morillo's  camp. 

"What  can  you  do  to  save  your  father?"  asked  the  Gen- 
eral. 

"I  can  do  but  little,  but  what  I  can  do  shall  be  done." 

Morillo  seized  the  little  fellow's  ear  and  said: 

"  Would  you  suffer  your  ear  to  be  taken  off  to  procure  your 
fathers  life?" 

"  I  cei'tainly  would,"  was  the  undaunted  reply. 

A  soldier  was  accordingly  called,  and  ordered  to  cut  off  the 
ear  with  a  single  stroke  of  the  knife. 

The  boy  wept,  but  did  not  resist  while  the  barbarous  order 
was  executed. 

"  Would  you  lose  your  other  ear  rather  than  fail  of  your  pur- 
pose?" was  the  next  question. 

"  I  have  suffered  much,  but  for  my  father  I  can  suffer  still," 
was  the  answer  of  the  boy. 

The  other  ear  was  taken  off  piecemeal,  without  flinching  on 
the  part  of  the  noble  boy. 

"And  now  go!  "  exclaimed  Morillo,  untouched  by  his  sublime 
courage;  "the  father  of  such  a  son  must  die." 

In  the  presence  of  his  agonized  and  vainly-suffering  son,  the 
patriot  father  was  executed.  Never  did  a  life-picture  exhibit 
such  truthful  lights  and  shades  in  national  character,  such  deep, 
ti-eacherous  villainy,  such  lofty,  enthusiastic  heroism! 

Out  of  820  places  in  Palestine  west  of  the  Jordan  mentioned 
in  the  Bible,  430  have  been  identified,  133  of  which  were  found 
by  the  staff  of  the  Palestine  Exploration  Fund. 


THE  FIRST  CRUSADE.  57S 

She   FlF^SIl  (©I^USADB. 

To  go  to  Jerusalem,  to  visit  the  Mount  of  Olives,  Calvary,  and 
the  tomb  of  Jesus,  became  one  of  the  passions  of  the  Christians 
of  Europe  in  the  early  age  of  the  Church. 

Under  Constantine  Christianity  arose  from  the  cross  to  wear 
the  crown  of  the  world.  Temples  and  churches  covered  the 
holy  places  of  Jerusalem,  Bethlehem,  and  Nazareth.  The  pil- 
grims increased  in  number,  and  at  last  St.  Helena,  the  mother 
of  Constantine,  at  the  age  of  seventy-eight,  visited  the  holy 
places,  and  discovered  what  was  supposed  to  be  the  wood  of 
the  true  cross. 

St.  Jerome,  from  his  retreat  in  Bethlehem,  once  wrote  an 
account  of  the  coming  of  these  bands  of  pilgrims.  In  a 
letter  to  St.  Paulinus  he  uttered  these  truthful  and  sensible 
words:  "The  court  of  heaven  is  as  open  in  Britain  as  in  Jeru- 
salem." • 

It  would  seem  that  readers  of  the  Bible  would  have  learned 
this  truth  from  the  words  of  Christ  to  the  woman  of  Samaria. 
But  they  did  not. 

Palestine  became  conquered  by  the  Moslems,  who  mercilessly 
slaughtered  the  bands  of  Christian  pilgrims  wherever  they 
found  them.  Then  rose  Peter  the  Hermit,  of  Amiens,  France, 
and  preached  the  duty  of  all  Christians  uniting  in  a  crusade  to 
recover  Jerusalem. 

A  great  council  of  Christian  leaders  was  held  at  Clermont,  in 
France.  Pope  Urban  II.  was  there,  thirteen  archbishops,  and 
more  than  two  hundred  bishops.  People  flocked  to  the  place 
in  multitudes  —  princes,  grandees,  and  knights.  The  church 
could  not  hold  them.  A  pavilion  was  erected  out  of  doors  for 
the  speakers,  and  on  a  high  platform  Peter  and  the  Pope  took 
their  stand,  and  the  fiery-minded  Urban  addressed  the  multi- 
tude. He  appealed  to  the  national  pride  of  France,  and  alluded 
to  the  virtues  aiid  greatness  of  Charlemagne.  "  It  is  from  you," 
he  said,  "above  all  nations,  that  Jerusalem  awaits  the  help  she 
invokes.  Take  ye,  then,  the  road  to  Jerusalem,  assured  of  the 
imperishable  glory  which  awaits  you  in  the  kingdom  of 
heaven." 

''Deusvult!"  (God  willeth  it)  cried  the  multitude  on  every  hand. 

"If  the  Lord  were  not  in  your  souls,"  said  the  Pope,  "ye 


574  HISTORICAL  SKETCHES. 

would  not  have  uttered  the  same  words.  In  the  battle,  then, 
be  those  words  your  war-cry — those  words  that  came  from  God. 
In  the  army  of  the  Lord  let  naught  be  heard  but  that  one  shout, 
*God  willeth  it!  God  willeth  it!'" 

It  seems  strange  that  such  a  delusion  could  have  filled  the 
souls  of  students  of  the  New  Testament;  for  Christ  plainly 
taught  that  the  warfare  of  his  kingdom  was  to  be  a  spiritual 
contest  with  sin,  and  that  those  who  take  the  sword  shall  perish 
by  the  sword. 

Thousands  upon  thousands  of  people  hurried  to  the  call  of 
Urban,  to  engage  in  the  Holy  War.  The  first  division  of  the 
Crusaders  marched  through  Hungary,  and  were  cut -to  pieces  in 
Bulgaria.  The  second,  under  Peter  the  Hermit,  reached  Con- 
stantinople, crossed  the  Bosphorus,  and  were  defeated  by  the 
Turks  at  Nice,  the  capital  of  Bithynia.  Then  came  a  great  army, 
led  by  Christian  princes.  There  were  at  least  600,000  soldiers  in 
this  army,  and  a  great  retinue  of  followers  beside.  Thousands 
perished  of  sickness  ami  fatigue  on  the  long  and  perilous  way. 
After  a  seven-months'  siege,  the  princes  captured  Antioch,  in 
June,  1098.  Again  a  terrible  battle  was  fought,  and  another 
triumph  won.     The  way  to  Jerusalem  now  opened. 

On  a  bright  summer  morning  in  1099,  40,000  Crusaders — all 
that  were  left  of  the  vast  army  that  had  left  the  West  two  years 
before — marched  toward  Jerusalem.  Over  every  hill-top  as  they. 
w^ent  they  strained  their  eyes  to  catch  a  glimpse  of  the  Holy 
City.  At  last  the  city  appeared.  From  the  heights  of  Emmaus, 
on  June  10,  1099,  they  saw  it;  it  was  a  thrilling  moment,  and 
the  joy  was  so  great  that  the  army  of  men  wept  like  children. 
The  city  was  taken  after  a  siege,  and  Godfrey  of  Bouillon  was 
made  King  of  Jerusalem.  So  triumphantly  ended  the  First 
Crusade. 

Oj^IBNTALt    FANAIPIGS. 

Fanaticism  flourishes  in  the  Orient,  where  a  lunatic  is  rever- 
enced as  one  who  is  much  nearer  God  than  any  sane  person. 

During  the  Crimean  War  a  Mohammedan  ecclesiastic  from 
Bagdad  joined  the  Turkish  army  as  a  Gazi,  or  warrior  for  relig- 
ion. He  was  a  man  of  rare  mental  gifts  and  immense  learn- 
ing. Yet  bare-headed  and  bare-footed,  with  scanty  clothing, 
his  sword  girded  about  his  lean  loins,  his  lance  grasped  with 
clenched  fist,  this  fanatic  marched  through  snow  and  ice,  at  the 


ORIENTAL  FANATICS.  675 

head  of  his  division,  or  led  the  way  into  the  thickest  of  the 
fights.  Five  times  a  day,  when  he  said  his  prayers,  he  ungirdcd 
his  sword,  and  laid  his  lance  aside.  But  save  then,  either  by 
day  or  night,  sleeping  or  waking,  he  never  went  unarmed.  He 
was  a  scholar,  thoroughly  versed  in  Arabic  and  Persian  litera- 
ture. His  memory  was  almost  supernatural.  If  any  line  of  a 
Persian  or  Arabian  poet  was  quoted,  he  would  take  it  up  and 
recite  the  whole  poem.  Young  men  would  sit  at  his  feet  and 
listen  for  hours  while  he  declaimed  from  the  classics  of  Moslem 
literature. 

At  the  Persian  city  of  Tabreez  the  Oriental  traveler,  Vamelry, 
met  with  a  wonderful  dervish,  who  was  an  object  of  general 
admiration.  He  held  as  a  dogma  of  his  faith  that  the  caliphate, 
after  the  death  of  Mohammed,  ought  to  have  devolved  upon 
Ali,  the  prophet's  son-in-law,  and  not  upon  Abubekr,  Moham- 
med's brother-in-law. 

In  the  East  men  express  their  convictions  by  a  simple  deed 
as  well  as  by  words,  even  as  the  Hebrew  prophets  did  three 
thousand  years  ago.  This  dervish  vowed  before  Allah  that 
never  should  his  organs  of  speech  be  used  save  to  utter,  the 
name  of  All!  Day  and  night,  in  season  and  out  of  season,  so 
ran  the  solemn  vow,  would  he  cry,  ^^AU!  Ali!" 

For  more  than  thirty  years  that  fanatic  thus  symbolized  to  the 
world  that  he  was  the  devoted  partisan  of  that  Ali  who  had 
been  dead  more  than  a  thousand  years.  Even  in  his  own  house, 
though  speaking  to  wife,  children,  and  friends,  no  other  word 
but  "Ali!"  ever  passed  his  lips.  If  he  wanted  food  or  drink, 
if  he  begged  or  bought,  his  wants  were  expressed  by  "Alii " 
He  would  race  up  and  down  the  streets  of  the  city  for  a  day, 
shrieking  at  the  top  of  his  voice,  ''Ali!  Ali!" 

Everybody  venerated  the  fanatic  as  a  saint.  The  richest  man 
in  the  city  presented  him  with  a  magnificent  horse,  saddle,  and 
bridle.  Vaulting  into  the  saddle  as  soon  as  he  received  the  gift, 
he  galloped  through  the  town  shouting,  ''Ali!  Ali!"  Riding 
into  the  noisy  bazaar,  he  cried  "Ali!"  with  such  strength  of 
voice  as  to  be  heard  clearly  above  the  frightful  din  of  shouting 
buyers  and  pounding  mechanics. 

In  the  West  such  a  disturber  of  the  peace  would  speedily 
find  himself  in  a  lunatic  asylum;  but  in  the  East  he  was 
treated  with  the  greatest  consideration. 


576  ,  HISTORICAL  SKETCHES. 

(©osiPLY  Clothes. 

t 

The  knight  or  noble  who  should  now  appear  in  Hyde  Park 
in  a  cloak  rumored  to  be  worth  a  hundred  pounds  would  find 
himself,  says  the  London  Globe,  the  subject  of  very  general  ob- 
servation, and  would  certainly  come  in  for  the  lash  of  the  dem-  . 
ocratic  censor.  But  two  or  three  centuries  back  five  hundred 
pounds  for  a  cloak  for  a  man  of  fashion  was  by  no  means  an 
uncommon  outlay.  To  "  wrap  up  a  lady,"  as  some  American 
humorist  expresses  it,  is  undoubtedly  an  expensive  undertaking 
in  our  day;  but  Isaac  Disraeli  says  that  at  the  marriage  of  Eliz- 
abeth, daughter  of  James  I.,  Lady  Wootton  had  a  gown  of 
which  the  embroideiy  cost  £50  a  yard,  and  £50,  it  must  be  un- 
derstood, was  at  that  time  a  very  much  larger  sum  than  it  is- 
now.  "The  Lady  Arabella  made  four  gowns,  one  of  which 
cost  £1,500.  The  Lord  Montague  bestowed  £1,500  in  apparel 
for  his  two  daughters.  One  lady  under  the  rank  of  baroness 
was  furnished  with  jewels  exceeding  £100,000,  and  the  Lady 
Arabella  goes  beyond  her."  A  modern*  duke  in  an  overcoat  i& 
no  very  striking  embodiment  of  luxurious  extravagance.  Even 
a  French'duke  may  pass  in  a  crowd  without  attracting  any  great 
share  of  attention  from  the  sumptuousness  of  his  apparel.  It 
is  said,  however,  that  after  the  battle  of  Agincourt  the  Duke  de 
Bourbon,  in  order  to  ransom  King  John,  sold  his  overcoat  to  a 
London  Jew,  who  gave  no  more  than  its  value,  we  may  be 
pretty  sure,  but  nevertheless  gave  5,200  crowns  of  gold  for  it. 
It  seems  to  have  been  a  mass  of  the  most  precious  gems.  The 
Duke  of  Buckingham,  in  the  reign  of  James  I.,  had  his  cloak 
trimmed  with  diamond  buttons  and  his  hat  encircled  with  bands 
of  diamonds,  cockades  and  ear-rings  yoked  with  ropes  and 
knots  of  pearls.  "  He  had,"  says  one  biographer,  ""twenty- 
seven  suits  of  clothes  made,  the  richest  that  embroidery,  lace,^ 
silk,  velvet,  silver,  gold,  and  gems  could  contribute,  one  of 
which  was  a  white  uncut  velvet,  set  all  over,  both  suit  and  cloak, 
with  diamonds  valued  at  four-score  thousand  pounds,  besides  a 
great  feather  stuck  all  over  with  diamonds,  as  were  also  his 
sword,  girdle,  hat,  and  spurs."  Of  course  it  must  be  remem- 
bered that  Buckingham  was  the  great  man  of  his  day,  and  it 
would  be  misleading  to  assume  that  his  style  of  dress  was  com- 
mon at  that  or  any  other  period  of  English  history.     But  then 


COSTLY  CLOTHES.  577 

it  is  also  true  that  he  was  the  chief  leader  of  the  fashions  of  his 
time,  and  what  he  did  in  this  way  would  be  the  ambition  of  the 
aristocracy  at  large  to  imitate  as  far  as  they  could.  That  the 
upper  classes  did  their  best  in  this  direction  is  a  fact  testified  to 
in  many  ways,  especially  by  the  frequent  issue  of  proclamations 
intended  to  control  extravagance  in  dress. 

That  in  point  of  raiment  this  age  is  not  particularly  luxurious 
must,  we  imagine,  be  strikingly  apparent  to  any  one  who  will 
take  the  trouble  to  compare  it  with  many  former  periods.  In 
making  a  comparison,  it  is  necessary,  of  course,  to  take  into 
account  not  merely  the  style  of  dress,  but  the  cost  of  producing 
it.  The  old  chronicler  whose  description  of  Buckingham's  gar- 
ments has  been  just  quoted,  piles  up  his  magnificence  with  lace 
and  embroidery,  silk  and  velvet,  none  of  which  could  then  be 
had  except  of  the  most  costly  character.  They  were  real  ex- 
travagances then,  but  of  course  they  are  not  now.  Any  onfe 
who  chooses  to  walk  abroad  in  velvet  and  laces  nowadays  might 
do  so  as  cheaply  as  in  broadcloth  or  tweed.  It  may  be  thought, 
perhaps,  that  it  is  not  so  much  the  sumptuous  character  of  cloth- 
ing as  the  vagaries  of  fashion  which  renders  this  an  extravagant 
age.  Even  in  this  respect,  however,  the  ladies  themselves  can- 
not very  well  outdo  the  men  of  past  times.  One  of  the  most 
galling  misfortunes  that  ever  befell  an  embassador  was  that 
which  made  Lord  Hay  ridiculous  when  on  one  occasion  he  pre- 
pared to  set  out  for  twenty-one  days'  stay  at  the  court  of  France. 
"He  goes,"  says  a  contemporary  writer,  "with  twenty  special 
suits  of  apparel  for  so  many  days'  abode,  besides  his  traveling 
robes;  but  the  news  is  very  lately  come  that  the  French  have 
altered  their  fashion,  whereby  he  must  needs  be  out  of  counte- 
nance if  he  be  not  set  out  after  the  last  edition." 

During  .a  long  period  in  our  history,  as  well  as  in  the  history 
of  other  civilizations,  it  was  not  the  ladies  who  were  most  given 
to  extravagance  in  dress.  It  is  very  curious  to  observe  that  at 
one  period  of  the  Roman  Empire,  for  instance,  orators  were 
just  as  earnestly  pleading  for  the  privilege  of  the  ladies  to  adorn 
themselves  handsomely  as  if  it  were  a  grave  political  question. 
Cato  vehemently  urged  that  the  growing  extravagance  of  women 
should  be  curbed.  To  this  Valerius  replied  with  equal  vehe- 
mence: "What!  were  men  to  retain  the  right  to  appear  splen- 
didly clothed  in  purple,  while  the  Roman  matrons  were  reduced 
37 


578  HISTOEICAL  SKETCHES. 

to  the  simplest  attire,  and  show  themselves,  the  spouses  of  the 
masters  of  the  world,  more  meanly  dressed  than  the  women  of 
the  allied  or  conquered  provinces?  What  cruel  treatment  to 
inflict  upon  this  sex,  which  had  no  other  joy,  no  other  glory, 
than  the  toilet  and  the  care  of  self-adornment!"  In  all  coun- 
tries, however,  the  advancement  of  civilization  seems  to  have 
gradually  subdued  the  taste  of  the  male  sex  for  sumptuous  rai- 
ment, and  to  have  developed  that  of  the  ladies.  Cato  was  not 
very  successful  in  his  harangue  against  their  fondness  for  dress, 
and  from  that  time  forward  all  the  more  advanced  countries  of 
Europe  have  shown  pretty  much  the  same  course  of  things — 
the  ladies  slowly  coming  to  the  front  in  all  matters  of  showi- 
ness  of  apparel.  Charlemagne  did  his  best  to  arrest  the  pro- 
gress of  this  tendency,  but  his  own  wife  and  daughters  are  said 
to  have  appeared  in  the  hunting-field  wearing  purple  robes  and 
coronets,  all  glittering  with  gold  and  precious  stones,  while  the 
ladies  of  the  court  and  of  the  aristocracy  generally  showed  the 
utmost  ingenuity  and  persistence  in  evading  all  the  great  man's 
edicts.  • 

©HE    Bl^IDGB   OR   LiODI. 

The  battle  of  Lodi  was  fought  on  the  loth  of  May,  1796,  and 
resembled  rather  a  grand  storming  party  than  a  pitched  battle. 
It  was  Bonaparte's  purpose  to  cross  the  Adda  to  Lodi,  and  it 
was  Beaulieu's  purpose  to  prevent  such  crossing;  and,  had  the 
opposing  commander  destroyed  the  bridge  destined  to  become 
historical,  the  French  advance  upon  Milan  would,  to  speak 
moderately,  have  been  a  difficult  matter.  The  Austrians  did 
not  even  defend  the  town,  though  it  was  very  susceptible  of 
defense;  and  the  French  were  covered  from  the  Austrian  fire  by 
the  walls  of  the  town,  and  by  the  town  itself.  Beaulieu  de- 
fended the  place  on  the  left  bank  of  Adda,  where  he  had  many 
guns  placed,  supported  by  a  strong  body  of  infantry — only  that 
this  supporting  force  was  drawn  up  too  far  in  the  rear  of  the 
batteries  to  prove  a  support.  Covered  by  the  town,  three  thou- 
sand French  grenadiers  were  formed  in  a  column,  while  the 
cavalry  forded  the  Adda.  As  soon  as  the  cavalry  was  seen  on 
the  Austrian  flank,  against  which  it  had  been  directed  to  oper- 
ate, the  French  column  rushed  to  the  bridge,  and  the  Austrians 
turned  all  their  cannon  on  it,  pouring  into  it  showers  of  grape- 


LAST  DAY  OF  THE  YEAR  ONE  TIIO  US  AND.    579 

shot,  in  good  grapc-sprcading  distance;  and  Austrian  infantry 
in  the  houses  on  the  left  bank  of  the  river  added  a  tremcndouft 
fire  of  musketry.  The  bridge  was  several  hundred  feet  in 
length,  and  it  was  not  in  human  nature  to  stand  such  a  pitiless 
storm  of  pelting  shot  without  some  hesitation,  though  the  col- 
umn was  composed  of  the  best  soldiers  in  the  world.  But  Bon- 
aparte, Massena,  Berthier,  and  other  officers  hastened  to  the 
head  of  their  men,  rallied  them,  and  led  them  on;  and  the  Aus- 
trians  were  routed,  losing  their  position  and  their  guns  and  two 
thousand  men.  The  victory  was  as  complete  as  it  could  be 
made,  and  the  effect  was  to  establish  the  ascendency  of  the 
French.  Bonaparte  has  been  much  censured  for  the  daring 
manner  in  which  he  acted,  and  it  has  been  argued  that  he  might 
have  accomplished  his  purpose  without  running  so  immense  a 
risk.  Perhaps  the  critics  are  right;  the  best  answer  to  their 
criticism  is  the  success  that  crowned  the  dashing  operation. 
Besides,  it  was  so  very  brilliant  an  affair  that  it  established  Bon- 
aparte's character  for  heroic  courage  only  a  few  weeks  after  he 
had  assumed  command;  and,  of  all  things,  men  most  admire 
daring  bravery  in  war,  if  it  succeeds.  The  French  commander 
had  his  character  to  make,  and  he  made  it  at  Lodi. 

She  LiASJP  Day  op  jphb  yEAi^  One  Thousand. 

The  laborers  in  the  fields  and  the  artisans  in  the  towns  could 
not  be  induced  to  go  about  their  daily  tasks  with  any  regularity 
(notwithstanding  their  daily  bread  depended  upon  it)  for  think- 
ing of  the  outbreak  of  Divine  wrath  which  was  about  to  take 
place.  There  were  some  wise  and  sober  men,  even  in  that  age 
of  darkest  ignorance,  who  endeavored  to  persuade  the  people 
that  their  alarm  was  without  reasonable  foundation,  and  even 
if  this  had  been  otherwise,  that  it  would  still  befit  them  to  go 
about  the  duties  of  life  with  diligence  and  faithfulness  as  unto 
God,  so  that  the  Lord,  if  he  should  come,  as  they  expected, 
might  find  them  watching.  The  terrified  and  conscience- 
stricken  men  paid  no  heed  to  remonstrances  like  these,  but 
gathered  eagerly  round  fanatic  monks  or  half-crazed  pilgrims, 
who  poured  inft)  their  ears  their  tales  of  hoi'ror,  ever  growing 
more  wild  and  terrible  as  the  last  week  of  the  year  looo  went 
by.     When  the  last  day  of  that  week  dawned  the  madness  had 


580  HISTORICAL  SKETCHES. 

attained  its  heiglit.  All  work  of  whatever  kind  was  suspended. 
The  inarket-placcs  were  deserted;  the  shops  were  shut;  the 
tables  were  not  spread  'for  meals;  the  very  household  fires  re- 
mained unlighted.  Men,  when  they  met  in  the  streets,  scaixely 
saw  or  spoke  to  one  another.  Their  eyes  had  a  wild  stare  in 
them,  as  though  they  expected  every  moment  some  terrible 
manifestation  to  take  place.  A  strange,  unnatural  silence  pre- 
vailed every-where,  except  in  the  churches,  which  were  already 
thronged  with  eager  devotees,  who  prostrated  themselves  before 
the  shrines  of  their  favorite  saints,  imploring  their  protection 
during  the  fearful  scenes  which  were  on  the  point  of  being  dis- 
played. As  the  day  wore  on  the  number  of  those  who  sought 
admission  grew  greater  and  greater,  until  every  corner  of  the 
sacred  edifices,  large  as  these  were,  were  densely  crowded,  and 
it  became  impossible  to  find  room  for  more.  But  the  multitude 
outside  still  strove  and  clanlored  for  admission,  filling  the  door- 
ways and  porches,  and  climbing  up  the  buttresses  to  find  a 
refuge  on  the  roofs  which  they  could  not  obtain  inside.  It  was 
generally  believed  that  the  expected  loosing  of  Satan  would 
take  place  at  some  time  or  other  before  the  night  was  ended, 
but  at  what  jDrecise  moment  no  one  could  say.  A  strange  and 
solemn  commentary  on  the  text  which  binds  men  to  watch  be- 
cause "they  know  not  whether  the  master  of  the  house  will 
come  at  even,  or  at  midnight,  or  at  the  cock-crowing,  or  in  the 
morning,"  was  presented  by  the  multitudes  which  filled  the 
churches  that  night.  Watch  in  very  truth  they  did.  Not  an 
eye  was  closed  throughout  that  lengthened  vigil;  not  a  knee  but 
was  bent  in  humblest  supplication;  not  a  voice  but  joined  the 
penitential  chant,  or  put  up  a  fervent  entreaty  for  help  and  pro- 
tection. There  were  no  clocks  in  those  days,  but  the  flight  of 
the  hours  was  marked  by  great  waxen  tapers  with  metal  balls 
attached  at  intervals  to  them.  These  fell,  one  after  another,  as 
the  flame  reached  the  strings  by  which  they  were  secured,  into 
a  brazen  basin  beneath,  with  a  clang  which  resounded  through 
the  church.  At  the  recurrence  of  each  of  these  warning  sounds 
the  awe  of  the  vast  assembly  seemed  to  deepen  and  intensify, 
as  each  realized  the  terrible  fact  that  between  him  and  the  out- 
burst of  Divine  wrath  only  the  briefest  interval  could  now  re- 
^main.  At  last  the  night,  long  as  it  was,  began  to  draw  to  an 
«nd.     The  chill  which  precedes  daylight  pervaded  the  air,  and 


THE  GOOD  OLD  DAYS.  581 

in  the  eastern  sky  the  first  pale  gleam  of  morning  began,  to 
show  itself.  Satan  was  even  now  being  loosed  from  his  bond- 
age. But  no,  the  light  grew  stronger  in  the  heavens,  and  the 
flame  of  the  candles  paled  before  it,  and  at  last  the  rays  of  the 
rising  sun  streamed  through  the  windows,  and  fell  on  the  white 
and  anxious  faces  of  the  watchers.  The  night  had  passed  away. 
A  new  day,  a  new  year,  a  new  century  had  begun.  The  terror 
which  possessed  their  souls  was,  after  all,  God  be  thanked,  a 
delusion. 

©HE  Good  Old  Days. 

Half  a  century  ago  a  large  part  of  the  people  of  the  United 
States  lived  in  houses  unpainted,  unplastered,  and  utterly  de- 
void of  adornments.  A  well-fed  fire  in  the  yawning  chasm  of 
a  huge  chimney  gave  partial  warmth  to  a  single  room,  and  it 
was  a  common  remark  that  the  inmates  were  roasting  one  side 
while  freezing  the  other;  in  contrast,  a  majority  of  the  people 
of  the  older  States  now  live  in  houses  that  are  clap-boarded, 
painted,  blinded,  and  comfortably  warmed.  Then  the  house- 
hold furniture  consisted  of  a  few  plain  chairs,  a  plain  table,  a 
bedstead  made  by  the  village  carpenter.  Carpets  there  were 
none.  To-day  few  are  the  homes  in  city  or  country  that  do  not 
contain  a  carpet  of  some  sort,  while  the  average  laborer,  by  a 
week's  work,  may  earn  enough  to  enable  him  to  repose  at  night 
upon  a  spring-bed. 

Fifty  years  ago  the  kitchen  "  dressers  "  were  set  forth  with  a 
shining  row  of  pewter  plates.  The  farmer  ate  with  a  buck- 
handle  knife  and  an  iron  or  pewter  spoon,  but  the  advancing 
civilization  has  sent  the  plates  and  spoons  to  the  melting-pot, 
while  the  knives  and  forks  have  given  place  to  nickel  or  silver- 
jDlated  cutlery. 

In  those  days  the  utensils  for  cooking  were  a  dinner-pot,  tea- 
kettle, skillet,  Dutch  oven,  and  frying-pan;  to-day  there  is  no 
end  to  kitchen  furniture. 

The  people  of  1830  sat  in  the  evening  in  the  glowing  light 
of  a  pitch-knot  fire,  or  read  their  weekly  newspaper  by  the 
light  of  a  "tallow-dip;"  now,  in  city  and  village,  their  apart- 
ments  are  bright  with  the  flame  of  the  gas-jet,  or  the  softer 
radiance  of  kerosene.  Then  if  the  fire  went  out  on  the  hearth 
it  was  rekindled  by  a  coal  from  a  neighboring  hearth,  or  by 
flint,  steel,  and  tinder.    Those  who  indulged  in  pipes  and  cigars 


582  HISTORICAL  SKETCHES. 

could  light  them  only  by  some  hearth-stone.  To-day  we  light 
fires  and  pipes  by  the  dormant  fire-works  in  the  match-safe,  at 
the  cost  of  one-hundredth  of  a  cent. 

In  those  days  we  guessed  the  hour  of  noon,  or  ascertained  it 
by  the  creeping  of  the  sunlight  up  to  the  "noon-mark"  drawn 
upon  the  floor.  Only  the  well-to-do  could  afibrd  a  clock.  To- 
day, who  does  not  carry  a  watch.''  And  as  for  clocks,  you  can 
purchase  them  at  wholesale,  by  the  car-load,  at  sixty-two  cents 
apiece. 

Fifty  years  ago  how  many  dwellings  were  adorned  with  pict- 
ures? How  many  are  there  now  that  do  not  display  a  print, 
engraving,  chromo,  or  lithograph?  How  many  pianos  or  par- 
lor organs  were  there  then?  Reed  organs  were  not  invented 
until  1840,  and  now  they  are  in  every  village. 

Some  who  may  read  this  article  will  remember  that  in  1830 
the  Bible,  the  almanac,  and  a  few  text-books  used  in  school, 
were  almost  the  only  volumes  of  the  household.  The  dictionary 
was  a  volume  of  four  inches  square  and  an  inch  and  a-half  in 
thickness.  In  some  of  the  country  villages  a  few  public-spirited 
men  had  gathered  from  300  to  500  volumes;  in  contrast,  the 
public  libraries  of  the  present,  containing  more  than  10,000  vol- 
lunes,  have  an  aggregate  of  more  than  10,650,000  volumes,  not 
including  the  Sunday-school  and  private  libraries  of  the  coun- 
try. It  is  estimated  that  altogether  the  number  of  volumes  ac- 
cessible to  the  public  is  not  less  than  20,000,000!  Of  Webster's 
and  Worcester's  Dictionaries  it  may  be  said  that  enough  have 
been  published  to  supply  one  to  every  100  inhabitants  of  the 
United  States. 

The  little  city  of  Central,  Colorado,  perched  up  in  the  mount- 
ains, is  a  producer  of  national  celebrities  as  well  as  ore.  It  has 
given  fame  to  Pullman,  the  sleeping-car  millionaire;  Hill,  the 
pioneer  of  smelting,'and  United  States  Senator;  Teller,  ex-Sen- 
ator and  Secretary  of  the  Interior;  Chaffee,  ex-Senator  and 
Chairman  of  the  Executive  Committee  of  the  National  Repub- 
lican Committee;  and  Irving  Hale,  who  has  won  renown  as  the 
foremost  of  all  West  Point  students. 

Enoch  Pratt,  of  Baltimore,  is  thought  to  be  the  happiest  mill- 
ionaire in  America.  lie  is  hard  at  work  on  the  splendid  free 
library  that  he  has  presented  to  the  people  of  that  city. 


declaration  of  independence.       583 

CQegi^lenbui^g  Dbglai^ation  op  Indbpbndbngb 

Among  those  who  sympathized  most  deeply  with  the  op- 
pressed inhabitants  of  New  England,  and  who  were  earliest  to 
express  indignation  at  the  outrage  of  British  tyranny,  were  the 
militia  officers  of  North  Carolina,  most  of  whom  were  Presby- 
terians of  Scotch-Irish  nativity.  On  the  20th  of  May,  1775, 
thx:  delegates  of  the  Mecklenburg  Convention,  "after  sitting  in 
the  court-house  all  night,  neither  sleepy,  hungry,  nor  fatigued, 
and  after  discussing  every  paragraph,"  unanimously  passed  the 
following  resolutions.  It  will  be  observed  tliat  this  memorable 
Declaration  of  Independence  contains  many  of  the  ideas,  and 
some  of  the  very  phrases  and  forms  of  expression,  afterward 
employed  by  Mr.  Jeflerson,  and  incorporated  in  his  draft  of 
that  great  national  document  whose  adoption,  on  the  fourth  of 
July,  1776,  gave  birth  to  a  nation  of  freemen.  The  more  strik- 
ing similarities  are  here  shown  i^i  italics. 

'■'Resolved,  That  whosoever  directly  or  indirectly  abetted,  or  i^ 
any  way,  form,  or  manner  countenanced,  an  unchartered  and 
dangerous  invasion  of  our  rights,  as  claimed  by  Great  Britain, 
is  an  enemy  to  this  country,  to  America,  and  to  the  inherent  and 
inalienable  rights  of  man. 

"■Resolved,  That  we,  the  citizens  of  Mecklenburg  County,  do 
hereby  dissolve  the  political  bands  which  have  connected  us  to  the 
mother  country,  and  hereby  absolve  ourselves  from  all  allegiance 
to  the  British  Crown,  and  abjure  all  political  connection,  contract, 
or  association  with  that  nation,  who  have  wantonly  trampled 
on  our  rights  and  liberties,  and  inhumanly  shed  the  blood  of 
American  patriots  at  Lexington. 

"■Resolved.  That  we  do  hereby  declare  ourselves  a  free  and  inde- 
pendent people;  are,  and  of  right  ought  to  be,  a  sovereign  and  self- 
governing  association,  under  the  control  of  no  power  other  than 
that  of  our  God  and  the  general  government  of  the  Congress; 
to  the  maintenance  of  which  independence  we  solemnly  pledge  to  each 
other  our  mutual  co-operation,  our  lives,  our  fortunes,  and  our  most 
sacred  honor. 

Resolved,  That,  as  we  now  acknowledge  the  existence  and 
control  of  no  law  or  legal  officer,  civil  or  military,  within  this 
country,  we  do  hereby  ordain  and.  adopt  as  a  rule  of  life  all, 
each,  and  every  one  of  our  former  laws;  wherein,  nevertheless, 


584  HISTORICAL  SKETCHES. 

the  Crown  of  Great  Britain  never  can  be  considered  as  holding 
rights,  privileges,  immunities,  or  authorities  therein. 

'■'■Itesolved,  That  it  is  further  decreed  that  all,  each,  and  every 
inilitary  officer  in  this  country  is  hereby  reinstated  in  his  former 
command  and  authority,  he  acting  conformably  to  these  regula- 
tions, and  that  every  member  present  of  'this  delegation  shall 
henceforth  be  a  civil  officer,  viz:  a  Justice  of  the  Peace  in  the 
character  of  a  "  Committeeman,"  to  issue  process  here  and  de- 
termine all  matters  of  controversy,  according  to  said  adopted 
laws,  and  to  preserve  peace,  union,  and  harmony  in  said  county, 
and  to  use  every  exertion  to  spread  the  love  of  country  and  fire 
of  freedom  throughout  America,  until  a  more  general  and  or- 
ganized government  be  established  in  the  Province." 

After  discussing  the'  foregoing  resolves,  and  arranging  by- 
laws and  regulations  for  the  government  of  a  standing  Com- 
mittee of  Public  Safety,  who  were  selected  from  their  delegates, 
the  whole  proceedings  were  unanimously  adopted  and  signed. 
A  selsct  committee  was  then  appointed  to  draw  up  a  more  full 
and  definite  statement  of  grievances,  and  a  more  formal  Decla- 
ration of  Independence.  The  delegation  then  adjourned  about 
two  o'clock  A.M. 

INDEPENDBNGB    DAY. 

On  the  fourth  of  July,  1776,  at  two  o'clock  in  the  afternoon, 
one  hundred  and  nine  years  ago,  the  Colonial  Congress  in  Phil- 
adelphia agreed  upon  and  signed  the  Declaration  of  Independ- 
ence. The  building  on  Chestnut  street  where  this  was  done  is 
now  called  Independence  Hall,  and  is  kept  as  much  unchanged 
as  possible.  The  vote  was  taken  by  Colonies,  and  every  dele- 
gate from  every  Colony  voted  in  favor  of  independence.  Fifty- 
six  persons  signed  their  names,  the  first  being  John  Hancock, 
President  of  the  Convention. 

There  were  then  thirteen  Colonies — New  Hampshire,  Mas- 
sachusetts, Rhode  Island,  Connecticut,  New  York,  New  Jer- 
sey, Pennsylvania,  Delaware,  Maryland,  Virginia,  North  Caro- 
lina, South  Carolina,  and  Georgia — and  their  population  was 
about  three  millions.  .Now  we  have  thirty-eight  States  and  nine 
Territories,  with  a  population  of  fifty-three  millions. 

The  Declaration  of  Independence  was  written  by  Thomas 
Jefferson,  a  few  additions  only  being  made  by  John  Adams  and 


HISTORY  OF  THE  PEACH.  68ft 

Benjamin  Franklin.  It  took  seven  years  of  war  to  win  our 
independence  of  Great  Britain,  and  then  wc  became  a  free  and 
independent  republic.  The  place  where  Washington  City  now 
stands  was  fixed  upon  as  the  capital  of  the  country,  and  the 
magnificent  building  in  which  our  Congress  meets  is  called  the 
Capitol. 

^ISTOI^Y    OP    THE   ^EAGH. 

The  peach  is  supposed  to  be  a  native  of  Persia,  and  its  botan- 
ical name  refers  to  that  origin.  It  is  known  to  have  flourished 
in  both  Persia  and  China  at  a  very  early  period,  and  was  highly 
valued  in  both  countries.  It  has  often  been  found  growing 
spontaneously  in  Asiatic  Turkey.  It  is  mentioned  by  Pliny 
and  several  o.ther  classical  writers,  and  many  anecdotes  are  re- 
lated of  the  veneration  and  even  superstition  with  which  it  was 
regarded  by  the  Asiatics.  There  is  no  doubt  but  it  was  one  of 
the  "Trees  of  the  Garden"  which  God  planted  in  Eden,  and 
which  were  to  nourish  and  cheer  our  first  parents  in  their  pris- 
tine purity  and  happiness.  It  is  not  mentioned  in  the  Bible,  but 
its  congcnei",  the  almond,  is  mentioned  several  times,  and  as 
early  as  the  days  of  Jacob;  and  we  find,  when  he  was  pre- 
paring his  presents  for  the  governor  of  Egypt,  he  comjjianded 
his  sons  to  take  "  myrrh,  nuts,  and  almonds,"  as  a  gift,  showing 
the  esteem  in  which  it  was  then  held.  Again,  in  the  directions 
for  making  the  golden  candlestick,  among  the  ornaments,  the 
myrtle  and  almond  are  mentioned  as  the  chief. 

The  peach,  like  civilization  itself,  traveled  from  this  center 
westward  into  Europe,  and  we  find  it  mentioned  in  Roman  his- 
tory in  the  reign  of  the  Emperor  Claudius.  It  was  highly 
valued  by  the  patricians  of  Rome,  and  was  cultivated  by  them 
as  one  of  their  choicest  luxuries.  It  is  still  a  standard  tree  in 
Italy. 

It  was  introduced  into  England  from  Italy  about  the  middle 
of  the  sixteenth  century,  and  has  been  cultivated  there  as  an 
exotic  ever  since.  Her  cool,  moist  climate,  however,  prevents 
its  general  cultivation,  and  it  is  only  grown  on  walls  or  under 
glass,  and  the  fruit  is  seldom  seen  except  on  the  table  of  the 
aristocracy. 

Even  in  France,  where  the  climate  is  much  milder,  it  is  not 
always  reared  without  protection,  and  the  fruit  has  never  gone 


586  HISTORICAL  SKETCHES.     * 

into  general  use,  but  is  a  delicacy  confined  to  the  wealthy  alone, 
the  cultivation  being  confined  principally  to  gardens. 

In  China  it  is  extensively  cultivated  in  the  gardens  of  the 
rich,  and  has  attained  an  extraordinary  size.  But  of  their  man- 
ner of  propagation  and  culture  but  little  is  yet  known,  owing 
to  the  exclusive  policy  heretofore  pursed  by  that  ancient  em- 
pire. Now,  since  its  amelioration,  among  the  many  benefits 
hoped  for  a  more  accurate  and  complete  knowledge  of  the 
peach  is  one.  Chinese  are  great  gardeners,  and  much  aff'ect  the 
curious  in  horticultural  as  in  other  arts,  and  we  may  expect  to 
learn  much  that  is  interesting,  if  not  useful.  We  know  already 
that  they  produce  peaches  of  a  very  large  size,  and  two  at  least 
of  rare  shape — the  Chinese  Flat  and  Crooked  Peach.  With 
this  beginning  we  will  not  be  surprised  at  still  more  curious  de- 
velopments. The  curiosity,  ingenuity,  and  enterprise  of  our 
countrymen  will  soon  discover  whatever  may  be  known. 

It  is  to  our  credit  that  the  United  States  is  the  only  country 
in  the  world  that,  either  in  ancient  or  modern  times,  has  pro- 
duced peaches  in  sufficient  quantities  to  allow  them  to  become 
a  common  marketable  commodity;  so  cheap  that  the  poor  as 
well  as  the  rich  may  regale  themselves  and  their  families  with 
one  of  the  most  wholesome  and  delicious  fruits  at  very  small 
expense,  and  with  every  prospect  that  they  will  be  still  more 
abundant  and  cheap. 

Fi^UiT  Pi^OM  A  Small  Seed. 

Fifty  years  ago  a  child  dropped  into  a  missionary  box  one 
cent.  He  was  sowing  a  seed  that  was  "  less  than  all  the  seeds." 
But  it  became  a  tree.  A  little  tract  that  cost  just  that  single 
cent  fell  into  the  hands  of  a  young  man,  the  son  of  a  Burman 
chief,  who  was  so  anxious  to  know  what  it  was  about  that  he 
traveled  two  hundred  and  fifty  miles  on  purpose  to  learn  it. 
The  Christian  teachers  taught  him;  and  from  the  reading  of 
that  tract  he  arose  with  a  new  heart  in  his  bosom,  and  went 
home  with  a  basketful  of  similar  tracts  to  distribute  among  his 
people.  He  was  a  man  of  influence,  and  crowds  came  to  hear 
him  talk  and  explain  the  gospel  as  he  had  learned  it.  In  one 
year  one  thousand  five  hundred  natives  were  baptized,  as  the 
result  of  his  labors. 


MODERN  DISCOVERT.  M7 

fflODBI^N    DlSGOYBI^Y. 


BY  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 


A  history  of  mechanical  philosophy,  however,  would  not  be- 
gin with  Greece.  There  is  a  wonder  beyond  Greece.  Uighcr 
up  in  the  annals  of  mankind,  nearer,  far  nearer,  to  the  origin  of 
our  race,  out  of  all  reach  of  letters,  beyond  the  sources  of  tra- 
dition, beyond  all  history,  except  what  remains  in  the  monu- 
ments of  her  own  art,  stands  Egypt,  the  mother  of  nations! 
Egypt!  Thebes!  the  Labyrinth!  the  Pyramids!  Who  shall  ex- 
plain the  mysteries  which  these  names  suggest?  The  Pyramids! 
Who  can  inform  us  whether  it  was  by  numbers,  and  patience, 
and  labor,  aided,  perhaps,  by  the  simple  lever,  or,  if  not,  by 
what  forgotten  combination  of  powers,  by  what  now  unknown 
machines,  mass  thus  aggregated  to  mass,  and  quarry  piled  on 
quarry,  till  solid  granite  seemed  to  cover  the  earth  and  reach 
the  skies? 

The  ancients  discovered  many  things, 'but  they  left  many 
things  also  to  be  discovered;  and  this,  as  a  general  truth,  is  what 
our  posterity  a  thousand  years  hence  will  be  able  to  say,  doubt- 
less, when  we  and  our  generation  shall  be  recorded  also  among 
the  ancients.  For,  indeed,  God  seems  to  have  proposed  his 
material  universe  as  a  standing,  perpetual  study  to  his  intelligent 
creatures;  where,  ever  learning,  they  can  yet  never  learn  all; 
and  if  that  material  universe  shall  last  till  man  shall  have  dis- 
covered all  that  is  now  unknown,  but  which,  by  the  progressive 
improvement  of  his  faculties,  he  is  capable  of  knowing,  it  will 
remain  through  a  duration  beyond  human  measurement  and  be- 
yond human  comprehension.  The  ancients  knew  nothing  of 
our  present  system  of  arithmetical  notation;  nothing  of  algebra, 
and,  of  course,  nothing  of  the  important  application  of  algebra 
to  geometry.  They  had  not  learned  the  use  of  logarithms,  and 
were  ignorant  of  fluxions.  They  had  not  attained  to  any  just 
mode  for  the  mensuration  of  the  earth,  a  matter  of  great  mo- 
ment to  astronomy,  navigation,  and  other  branches  of  useful 
knowledge.  It  is  scarcely  necessary  to  add  that  they  were 
ignorant  of  the  great  results  which  have  followed  the  develop- 
ment of  the  principle  of  gravitation. 

In  the  useful  and  practical  arts,  many  inventions  and  con- 


588  HISTORICAL  SKETCHES.     ' 

trivances,  to  the  production  of  which  the  degree  of  knowledge 
possessed  by  the  ancients  would  appear  to  us  to  have  been  ade- 
quate, and  which  seem  quite  obvious,  are  yet  of  late  origin. 
The  application  6f  water,  for  example,  to  turn  a  mill  is  a  thing 
not  known  to  have  been  accomplished  at  all  in  Greece,  and  is 
not  supposed  to  have  been  attempted  at  Rome  till  in  or  near  the 
age  of  Augustus.  The  production  of  the  same  effect  by  wind 
is  a  still  greater  invention.  It  dates  only  in  the  seventh  century 
of  our  era.  The  propulsion  of  the  saw  by  any  other  power 
than  that  of  the  arm  was  treated  as  a  novelty  in  England  so 
late  as  the  middle  of  the  sixteenth  century. 

The  Bishop  of  Ely,  at  that  time  Embassador  from  the  Queen 
of  England  to  the  Pope,  says:  "I  saw  at  Lyons  a  saw-mill 
driven  with  an  upright  wheel,  and  the  water  that  maketh  it  go 
is  gathered  whole  into  a  narrow  trough,  which  delivereth  the 
same  water  to  the  wheel.  This  wheel  hath  a  piece  of  timber 
put  to  the  axle-tree  end,  like  the  handle  of  a  hroch  (a  hand-organ), 
and  fastened  to  the  end  of  the  saw,  which,  being  turned  with 
the  force  of  water,  hoisteth  up  and  down  the  saw;  that  it  con- 
tinually eateth  in,  and  the  handle  of  the  same  is  kept  in  a  regal 
of  wood  from  swerving.  Also  the  timber  lieth,  as  it  were, 
upon  a  ladder,  which  is  brought  by  little  and  little  to  the  saw 
with  another  vice." 

From  this  description  of  the  primitive  power-saw  it  would 
seem  that  it  was  probably  fast  only  at  one  end,  and  that  the 
hroch  and  jegal  performed  the  part  of  the  arm  in  the  common 
use  of  the  hand-saw. 

It  must  always  have  been  a  very  considerable  object  for  men 
to  possess  or  obtain  the  power  of  raising  water  otherwise  than 
by  mere  manual  labor.  Yet  nothing  like  the  common  suction- 
pump  has  been  found  among  rude  nations.  It  has  arrived  at 
its  present  state  only  by  slow  and  cautious  steps  of  improve- 
ment, and,  indeed,  in  that  present  state,  however  obvious  and 
unattractive,  it  is  something  of  an  abstruse  and  refined  inven- 
tion. It  was  unknown  in  China  until  Europeans  visited  the 
"Central  Empire;"  and  it  is  still  unknown  in  other  parts  of 
Asia,  beyond  the  pale  of  European  settlements  or  the  reach  of 
European  communication.  The  Greeks  and  Romans  are  sup- 
posed to  have  been  ignorant  of  it  in  the  early  times  of  their 
history,  and  it  is  usually  said  to  have  come  from  Alexandria, 


MODERN  DISCOVERY.  ft89 

where  physical  science  was  much  cultivated  by  the  Greek  phi- 
losophers, under  the  patronage  of  the  Ptolemies. 

These  few  and  scattered  historical  notices  of  important  inven- 
tions have  been  introduced  only  for  the  purpose  of  su^gcstinp; 
that  there  is  much  which  is  both  curious  and  instructive  in  the 
history  of  mechanics,  and  that  many  things  which  to  us,  in  our 
state  of  knowledge,  seem  so  obvious  that  we  should  think 
they  would  at  once  force  themselves  on  men's  adoption,  have 
nevertheless  been  accomplished  slowly  and  by  painful  efforts. 

But  if  the  history  of  the  progress  of  the  mechanical  arts  be 
interesting,  still  more  so,  doubtless,  would  be  the  exhibition  of 
their  present  state,  and  a  full  display  of  the  extent  to  which  they 
are  now  carried.  This  field  is  much  too  wide  to  be  entered  on 
this  occasion.  The  briefest  outline,  even,  would  exceed  its 
limits,  and  the  whole  subject  will  regularly  fall  to  hands  much 
more  able  to  sustain  it.  The  slightest  glance,  however,  must 
convince  us  that  mechanical  power  and  mechanical  skill,  as  they 
are  now  exhibited  in  Europe  and  America,  mark  an  epoch  in 
human  history  worthy  of  all  admiration.  Machinery  is  made 
to  perform  what  has  formerly  been  the  toil  of  human  hands  to 
an  extent  that  astonishes  the  most  sanguine,  with  a  degree  of 
power  to  which  no  number  of  human  arms  is  equal,  and  with 
such  precision,  and  exactness  as  almost  to  suggest  the  notion  of 
reason  and  intelligence  in  the  machines  themselves.  Every 
natural  agent  is  put  unrelentingly  to  the  task.  The  winds  work, 
the  waters  work,  the  elasticity  of  metals  work;  gravity  is  solicited 
into  a  thousand  new  forms  of  action;  levers  are  multiplied  upon 
levers;  wheels  revolve  on  the  peripheries  of  other  wheels;  the 
saw  and  the  plane  are  tortured  into  an  accomodation  to  new 
uses,  and,  last  of  all,  with  inimitable  power,  and  "  with  whirl- 
wind sound,"  comes  the  potent  agency  of  steam. 

In  comparison  with  the  past,  what  centuries  of  improvement 
has  this  single  agent  comprisecf  in  the  short  compass  of  ftfty 
years!  Every- where  practicable,  every- where  efficient,  it  has 
an  arm  a  thousand  times  stronger  than  that  of  Hercules,  and  to 
which  human  ingenuity  is  capable  of  fitting  a  thousand  times 
as  many  hands  as  belonged  to  Briareus.  Steam  is  found  in 
triumphant  operation  on  the  seas,  and  under  the  intiuence  of  its 
strong  propulsion  the  gallant  ship, 


590  HISTORICAL  SKETCHES. 

"Against  the  wind,  against  the  tide, 
Still  steadies  with  an  upright  keel." 

It  is  on  the  rivers,  and  the  boatman  may  repose  on  his  oars; 
it  is  on  highways,  and  begins  to  exert  itself  along  the  courses 
of  land  conveyance;  it  is  at  the  bottom  of  mines,  a  thousand 
feet  below  the  earth's  surface;  it  is  in  the  mills,  and  in  the 
workshops  of  the  trades.  It  rows,  it  pumps,  it  excavates,  it 
carries,  it  seems  to  say  to  men,  at  least  to  the  class  of  artisans: 
"Leave  off  your  manual  labor;  give  over  your  bodily  toil; 
bestow  but  your  skill  and  reason  to  the  directing  of  my  power, 
and  I  will  ask  no  breast  to  feel  faintness." 

What  further  improvements  may  still  be  made  in  the  use  of 
this  astonishing  power  it  is  impossible  to  know,  and  it  wei^e 
vail)  to  conjecture.  What  we  do  know  is,  that  it  has  most  es- 
sentially altered  the  face  of  affairs,  and  that  no  visible  limit  yet 
appears  beyond  which  its  progress  is  seen  to  be  impossible.  If 
its  power  were  now  to  be  annihilated,  if  we  were  to  miss  it  on 
the  water  and  in  the  mills,  it  would  seem  as  if  we  were  going 
back  to  rude  ages. 

"^I^OPHBTIG"  (JEWELS. 

The  present  furore  for  every  thing  connected  with  the  history 
of  gems  brings  up  the  following  singular  circumstances,  which 
have  not  yet  appeared  in  any  consecutive  form  connecting  them 
with  traditions  of  gems,  although  they  form — at  least  a  part  of 
them — a  portion  of  the  private  history  of  celebrated  individuals. 

The  first  "prophetic"  gem  to  which  we  call  attention  is  an 
agate  formerly  in  the  possession  of  Napoleon  the  First.  It 
served  as  a  paper-weight  upon  his  writing-desk.  One  day  the 
giddy  Pauline,  Princess  Borghese  —  his  beautiful,  world-re- 
nowned sister — took  up  the  agate,  and,  turning  it  round  in  her 
matchless  hands,  exclaimed:  ""See,  Napoleone,  there  is  the  word 
Esilio.     See,  how  curious!" 

Now,  the  word  Esilio  is  the  Italian  for  exile.  A  lady,  quite  a 
venerable  woman  and  a  friend  of  Letitia,  the  mother  of  Napo- 
leon, took  the  agate  from  the  hand  of  Pauline,  and,  seeing,  as 
indeed  was  easy,  the  word  traced  in  the  veining  of  the  stone, 
attempted  to  turn  it  into  jest  by  declaring  that  some  one  had 
tampered  with  it.     As  the  discussion  of  the  possibility  of  this 


''PROPHETIC"  JEWELS.  591 

grew  louder,  Napoleon  drew  ncarj  and,  always  a  superstitious 
man,  grew  pale  as  he  deciphered  the  fatal  word.  Without  com- 
ment, however,  he  dropped  the  agate  into  the  pocket  of  his 
loose  morning-coat.  Nothing  more  was  said  at  the  time,  hut 
gossip  declares  that  Napoleon  afterward  attempted  to  break  the 
agate  and  so  to  discover  whether  any  audacious  hand  had  suc- 
ceeded in  tracing  the  terrible  word.  He  merely  discovered  that 
it  was  a  natural,  not  an  artificial  tracing. 

The  great  tenor,  Nourrit,  the  rival  of  Duprez,  was  given  by 
his  aged  nurse  a  stone  amulet  containing  three  pearls  and  what 
is  called  a  tourmaline — a  gem  ot  which  the  hue  is  that  of  the 
sea.  The  old  bonne,  in  moving  accents,  entreated  her  foster-son 
not  to  .part  with  the  amulet,  assuring  him  that  its  loss  would  be 
the  end  of  his  good-luck;  of  which  she  declared  that  he  would 
have  an  unusual  share.  So  he  had  for  a  time.  His  personal 
beauty,  his  enchnnting  voice,  and  his  merit  as  an  actor  brought 
him  to  the  pinnacle  of  musical  fame.  One  unfortunate  night, 
however,  in  the  singing  of  the  grand  aria  of  William  Tell,  Du- 
prez, always  No'urrit's  bitter  rival,  surpassed  him  utterly.  Going 
to  his  dressing-room,  pale  with  rage,  Nourrit  discovered  that  he 
had  lost  from  his  neck  the  tourmaline  amulet  from  which  he 
had  never  parted  since  it  had  been  bestowed  upon  him.  This 
loss,  and  the  being  for  the  first  and  only  time  subjected  to  the 
disapprobation  of  the  public,  turned  a  brain  ever  morbidly  sen- 
sitive. Without  a  word  he  broke  from  the  grasp  of  another 
singer,  a  friend  who  had  sought  the  coulisses  to  console  him,  and 
rushing  to  the  top  of  the  oi^era-house — La  Scala,  Milan — he 
precipitated  himself  into  the  street,  where  his  disfigured  corpse 
met  the  eye  of  the  crowd  leaving  the  building. 

Madame  Dubarry,  the  frail  and  fair  Marquise  whose  lovely 
head  fell  into  the  basket  beneath  the  guillotine  in  expiation  of 
her  levity,  extravagance,  and  folly,  had  in  her  possession  a  stone 
of  which  the  Paris  jewelers  were  unable  to  tell  the  precise  nat- 
ui'e.  It  had  been  found  at  the  establishment  of  an  old  Israel- 
itish  lapidar}',  and  in  the  whim  of  the  moment  was  purchased 
by  one  of  Madame  Dubarry's  host  of  admirers  and  by  him  pre- 
sented to  her.  There  appeared  upon  it  below  the  surface,  and 
as  if  under  water — thus  is  the  jewel  described  by  the  chroniques 
of  the  time — an  outline  as  of  a  picture  containing  human  fig- 
ures.    Strange  to  relate,  when  first  the  gem  was  given  to  its 


592  HISTORICAL  SKETCHES. 

afterward  so  unfortunate  possessor,  this  outline  was  not  clear, 
but  after  it  had  been  some  months  in  her  possession  it  grew 
more  vivid.  This  was  possibly  the  result  of  the  many  jDolish- 
ings  to  which  it  was  subjected  by  various  hands  in  the  hope  of 
ascertaining  the  nature  of  the  gem.  One  day  the  negro  boy 
Lamor — who  was  afterward  instrumental,  from  revenge,  in  the 
downfall  of  the  favorite — declared,  looking  at  the  jewel,  that 
he  could  decipher  the  figure  of  a  woman  with  disheveled  hair 
kneeling  before  a  scaflbld  and  surrounded  by  a  crowd,  while 
beside  her  stood  the  executioner.  A  strange  but  well-authen- 
ticated circumstance  is  that  the  negro  servant-boy  precisely  de- 
scribed the  guillotine.  Dr.  Guillotin  had  not  then  invented  his 
celebrated  death-instrument,  nor  had  the  horrors  of  the' Revo- 
lution begun.  Snatching  the  gem  from  the  hand  of  the  serv- 
ant, Madame  Dubarry  examined  it,  saw,  indeed,  the  kneeling 
woman,  the  angry  crowd,  the  death-knife  falling,  and,  with  a 
cry  of  agony,  fell  senseless  to  the  floor. 

Every  one  will  remember  a  certain  wedding  in  New  York, 
some  fifteen  years  ago,  followed,  despite  its  almost  regal  splen- 
dor, by  much  and  undeserved  disaster  to  the  lovely  bride — a 
beautiful  blonde — whose  likeness  to  the  Empress  Eugenie  was  a 
matter  of  general  comment.  Among  the  gifts  of  the  bride- 
groom was  a  superb  ring  of  diamonds  surrounding  an  opal  of 
unusual  size  and  luster.  Needless  to  quote  here  the  superstition 
that  change  of  color  in  the  opal  bodes  disaster  to  its  owner.  But 
— I  have  this  from  the  lips  of  a  friend  of  the  bride  who  accom- 
panied Mrs.  to  Havana — as  the  vessel  neared  that  island 

where  every  hope  of  happiness,  honor,  and  peace  was  to  find 
its  grave  in  the  fatal  discovery  of  the  seraglio — so  to  speak — of 
the   husband,  the   opal   entirely  changed   color  and   darkened, 

which,  as  she  observed  it,  led  Mrs. to  remark  upon  it  to  the 

lady,  who,  struck  by  the  singular  occurrence,  endeavored  to 
persuade  her  that  it  was  due  to  the  difference  of  atmosphere 
from  that  of  the  port  they  had  left.  If  an  omen,  it  was  des- 
tined, alas!  to  jDrove  only  too  prophetic  a  one. 

The  Rev.  David  N.  Bentley,  who  died  recently  in  Connecti- 
cut at  the  ripe  age  of  lOO  years,  began  preaching  when  but 
15  years  old.  The  pioneer  of  Methodism  in  that  part  of  Con- 
necticut, he  devoted  seventy-five  years  of  his  life  to  its  work. 


■■,  Vi  •.VnfdPirr/: 


THE  ILAST  TOILKT  OF  CHARI.OTTE  CORDAY. 


FOR  THE  CORNUCOPIA" 


Md 


The  m- 
born  nea: 
in  historv 

r*s  estali 
stry,  "bin  . 
other  girls  of  hi:r  country 


She  remained  the 

•■   "•    '     the   f  .. 

ii\t  this 


ars,  and  went  away  thor 

...  .,■.  l,..^    .  I     .1...     o 


impion 

■A  de.il.  L:'..a'     Ci..' 
jv,i\  bliiulcd  by  fa., 

r  to  the  French  people. 
01  her  beloved  one.     '•"! 
deed  lay  in  the  death  " 
ler  victim,  l)ut  lime  afi 

at  last  .shf   '  •  '■' 

the  langn  • 
occurren:^ 

.as  lala. 
;ged  ii  : 

■  I-?-  I /■ 

her   ' 

her  I.. 

tion,  prot 

formed  in! 

saw  Div' 

science  fc>  d  appei; 


in  ber  ri 

■,  pi  i\  .if.  .ipartrr    ■  ' 
has  written  -«»» 
was  wri; 

..,  and  his  ^.^. 

..s  the  tub."     : 
;u:  hilt  in  his  heart.    Tl 

narv  tribunal  on  the 


FOK  THE  CORNUCOPIA- 


THE  GREEN 'VAULT.  596 

©HE   Gl^BBN   UAULJP. 


BY  W.  F.  MAIXALIEU. 


Of  all  the  places  in  Dresden  where  ladies  enjoy  going,  prob- 
ably there  is  none  like  this,  and  there  are  some  men  who  are 
almost  as  much  interested.  It  is  the  place  where  the  royal 
family  keep  their  little  knick-knacks — in  fact,  it  is  a  sort  of 
"  what-not "  on  a  large  scale,  set  up  in  a  suite  of  rooms  con- 
nected with  the  royal  palace,  as  some  people  put  a  "what-not" 
in  a  corner  of  the  parlor,  and  then  adorn  it  with  all  sorts  of  nice 
and  pretty  things  which  they  like  to  look  at  themselves,  and 
every  caller  also  finds  pleasure  in  doing  the  same.  The  royal 
family  of  Saxony  has  had  undisputed  possession  of  the  country 
for  a  good  while,  and  have  not  been  much  troubled  with  revo- 
lutions, and  hence  they  have  not  had  their  precious  things 
stolen  or  destroyed,  neither  have  they  been  obliged  to  sell  them 
to  raise  funds  to  carry  on  the  government,  the  result  being  that 
they  have  collected  a  good  many  curious  and  precious  things. 
One  room  abounds  in  all  kinds  of  bronzes;  another  in  articles 
of  ivory,  carved  with  the  utmost  skill  and  taste,  and  some  of 
them  extremely  elegant;  the  next  room  is  filled  with  all  manner 
of  vessels  and  ornaments  made  of  various  precious  stones — such 
as  jasper,  and  agate,  and  chalcedony,  and  rock  crystal,  some 
vaSes  of  the  latter  being  of  the  most  exquisite  workmanship, 
and  so  perfectly  pure  and  clear  that  the  best  of  glass  cannot 
compare  with  it,  and  the  words  of  the  Revelator,  where  he'uses 
the  expression  "  clear  as  crystal,"  gain  a  new  significance  while 
looking  upon  such  specimens;  then  there  is  the  room  of 'the 
mosaics,  pictures  made  of  the  least  bit  of  stones,  arranged  with 
infinite  care  and  taste,  with  many  shells  of  birds  and  of  the  sea, 
wonderfully  mounted  and  designed  for  use  as  well  as  ornament; 
then  there  is  a  room  with  cases  filled  with  vessels  of  silver  and 
gold,  and  of  the  most  curious  patterns,  and  some  of  them  of 
great  antiquity;  and  last  of  all  that  need  be  mentioned  is  the 
room  where  the  crown  jewels  are  kept,  and  they  are  genuine 
jewels.  People  go  into  the  Tower  of  London  thinking  to  see 
the  great  Kohinoor,  and  a  great  many  leave  thinking  they  have 
seen  it,  without  finding  out  that  they  have  simply  been  looking 
at  a  bit  of  glass,  while  the  real  article  is  kept  in  another  place 


596  EISTOBICAL  ISKETCHES. 

altogether,  and  not  within  reach  of  the  gaze  of  ordinary  mor- 
tals. But  at  Dresden  one  sees  in  a  single  case  diamonds  to  the 
value  of  eighteen  million  dollars,  and  the  pile  is  not  very  large 
— a  good-sized  pocket  would  hold  the  whole  of  them.  And 
then  they  are  so  temptingly  spread  out  on  the  dark  velvet-lined 
shelves  that  their  brilliancy  is  all  the  more  enhanced,  and  they 
glitter  and  glow  like  so  many  imprisoned  sunbeams  struggling 
to  get  free.  It  is  not  to  be  wondered  at  that  people  with  a  fine 
sense  of  the  beautiful  linger  long  before  this  case,  and  some  will 
wonder  at  the  skill  of  the  Almighty  Creator  who  has  fashioned 
the  dust  of  earth — for  these  diamonds  are  nought  but  carbon — 
into  forms  of  such  exceeding  beauty;  and  since  he  has  done 
this,  why,  in  the  ages  to  come,  may  he  not  transform  these  vile 
bodies  of  ours  into  bodies  like  that  of  Christ,  all  glorious  and 
immortal?  And  well  may  the  question  be  asked,  in  the  pres- 
ence of  these  works  of  God,  Why  should  it  be  thought  a  thing 
impossible  that  God  should  raise  the  dead.''  It  is  not,  however, 
a  very  good  place  to  moralize  before  such  a  display  of  wealth 
and  beauty.  I  would  not  like  to  say  that  every  woman  who 
has  looked  into  that  case  for  the  last  ten  years  has  broken  the 
tenth  commandment,  but  at  the  same  time  I  am  inclined  to  think 
that  at  least  ninety-nine  out  of  every  hundred  have  given  it  a 
pretty  severe  strain.  It  is  certainly  one  of  those  places  where 
a  person  never  ought  to  go  who  does  not  want  to  be  severely 
tempted. 

Old  ©imes. 

Tdlk  of  the  good  old  times  of  1848  and  1849.  Plank  roads 
were  then  being  built  as  the  cheapest  and  most  valuable  means 
of  communication  between  cities  of  larger  size  near  together. 
The  telegraph  would  soon  be  completed  to  St.  Louis,  while  an 
extension  to  New  Orleans  was  seriously  contemplated.  By  the 
end  of  1849  it  was  expected  that  5,000  miles  would  be  in  opera- 
tion. 

The  Supreme  Court  of  Texas  held  its  sessions  in  a  "  grocery," 
which  in  those  days  meant  a  saloon. 

The  population  of  the  United  States  was  20,748,400. 

The  bank  question  was  a  great  problem  in  those  days,  and 
the  system,  or  lack  of  it,  one  of  utter  confusion  and  continual 
loss. 

The  issue  of  the  Delphi  Republican  of  May  30,   1848,  con- 


THE  PY0MIE8,  W7 

tains  a  letter  from  General  Zachary  Taylor  defending  his  official 
report  that  the  Second  Indiana  regiment  had  fled  the  field  at 
Buena  Vista.  It  also  alludes  to  the  rising  in  Ireland  and  the 
Polish  insurrection. 

The  Grand  United  States  Circus  proudly  advertised  150  men 
and  horses,  and  its  chief  attraction  was  the  wonderful  feat  of 
riding  two  horses  at  one  time. 

It  was  decided,  upon  the  authority  of  officers  of  the  army 
serving  in  Mexico,  that  Mexican  whisky  was  inferior  to  Bour- 
bon, which  had  already  established  a  reputation. 

Merchants  were  even  then  selling  goods  below  cost,  and  ev- 
ery thing  fine  was  of  foreign  brand. 

Gen.  Taylor  favored  the  employment  of  blood-hounds  to  trail 
hostile  Indians  in  Florida,  and  approved  their  employment  by 
the  army. 

John  Mitchell,  the  Irish  patriot,  was  transported  to  the  Ber- 
mudas in  1848.  His  wife  died  a  few  days  later  at  her  home  in 
Ireland. 

Many  things  quaint  and  curious  are  to  be  seen  in  these  old 
papers,  but  to  attempt  an  enumeration  of  them  would  take  too 
much  space.  The  general  impression,  after  going  through  them, 
is  that  the  good  old  times  were  not  so  very  good  after  all. 

She  Pygmies. 

Dr.  Emin  Bey  gives  in  a  recent  number  of  Petermann's  Mit- 
theilungen  some  later  notices  of  the  Akkas,  the  pygmy  race  dis- 
covered in  Africa,  and  first  discovered  by  Schweinfurth.  They 
are  a  hunting  people,  divided  up  into  numerous  tribes  that  do  not 
mingle  with  one  another.  They  have  no  fixed  abodes,  but 
wander  around  in  the  countries  of  the  Monbutt  and  the  Amadi. 
When  a  small  society  sojourns  temporarily  around  the  settle- 
ment of  some  chief  they  build  little  huts  for  the  married  ones, 
while  the  unmarried  satisfy  themselves  with  mere  shelters  from 
the  sun.  Usually  they  live  in  the  groves  that  line  the  streams, 
which  afford  them  game  and  good  hiding-places.  The  chiefs 
provide  them  with  grain  and  roots  and  take  their  pay  in  the  pro- 
ceeds of  the  hunt.  The  Akkas  are  vengeful  and  dangerous 
when  offended,  and  are  skilled  in  the  use  of  the  bow  and  arrow. 
Emin  Bey's  measurements  gave  heights  of  between  four  and 
four  and  a-half  feet  for  full-grown  Akkas.     The  color  of  their 


598  HISTORICAL  SKETCHES. 

skin  varies  from  a  clear  yellow  to  glistening  red.  The  whole 
body  is  covered  with  a  thick,  stiff,  filthy  growth  of  hair.  A 
disposition  of  the  skin  to  wrinkle,  peculiarly  observable  in  the 
eyelids,  makes  them  look  much  older  than  they  are. 

SlI^   CQOSBS  QONJPBPIOI^B. 

On  October  26,  1884,  a  celebration  took  place  throughout  the 
civilized  world,  which  in  many  respects  was  the  most  remarka- 
ble of  the  present  age,  if  not  of  all  ages.  With  one  accord, 
without  respect  to  religious  creeds  or  former  conditions,  the 
whole  world  united  in  honoring  upon  that  day  the  birth  of  a 
man  born  one  hundred  years  previous  to  this  date,  and  still  liv- 
ing in  the  enjoyment  of  vigorous  health.  He  came  from  a 
wealthy  Jewish  family  of  bankers;  was  born  in  London,  and 
married,  in  1810,  a  connection  of  the  Rothschilds.  In  1829  he 
visited  Palestine,  became  interested  in  the  Jews  of  that  country, 
and  devoted  himself  largely  in  their  behalf.  He  also  has  taken 
great  interest  in  aiding  the  Jews  in  Poland  and  Russia,  succeed- 
ing, in  1846,  in  influencing  the  Czar  Nicholas  to  pass  laws  for 
their  protection. 

In  1863  he  obtained  a  firman  from  the  Emperor  of  Morocco, 
which  afforded  protection  to  the  Jews  in  his  domains.  He  en- 
dowed a  Jewish  college  at  Ramsgate,  England,  in  1867,  in 
memory  of  his  wife,  who  had  died  five  years  before.  He  has 
shown  great  liberality  and  kindness  to  the  poor  and  suffering 
of  all  nations,  without  respect  to  their  religious  belief,  and  may 
truly  be  considered,  as  one  of  the  foremost  philanthropists  of 
this  age. 

We  quote  the  following  from  an  eloquent  address  delivered 
in  the  Jewish  synagogue  at  Nashville  by  an  American  citizen, 
not  of  the  Jewish  faith,  upon  the  occasion  above  referred  to: 

"  It  is  not  a  mere  intellectual  sense  of  right  urging  him  to  be- 
stow money  upon  the  deserving  and  in  aid  of  public  charity, 
but  it  is  the  large  heart,  glowing  with  generous  and  sympa- 
thetic impulse,  driving  him  to  the  scene  of  distress  and  making 
him  the  personal  harbinger  of  brighter  days,  which  commands 
our  ardent  admiration.  We  pay  our  tribute  to  the  feeling 
heart,  to  the  simple  virtues,  of  the  man.  We  bow  in  homage  to 
the  man  who  has  endured  the  perils  of  the  sea,  the  pangs  of 
hunger  and  thirst,  and  the  dangers  of  travel  through  semi-bar- 


A  MOTHER  OF  A  FAMILY  OF  SEVENTY.      699 

barian  countries  to  heal  the  bleeding  hearts  of  suffering  human* 
ity.  We  laud  him  for  his  universal  charity.  We  extol  him  for 
a  philanthropy  untranimeled  by  illiberal  thought,  which  holds 
out  its  hand  to  man  as  man,  regardless  of  race,  creed,  or  nation- 
ality. We  honor  him  for  his  sacrifices;  we  revere  him  for  his 
goodness. 

"  Moses  Montefiore  ha§  reaped  some  reward  for  his  labors. 
In  all  enlightened  governments  of  the  earth  his  people  have 
been  emancipated  from  the  fetters  of  an  ignominious  thralldom. 
He  has  survived  the  civil  disabilities  of  the  Jews  in  his  own 
country,  and  has  seen  the  ghettos  of  Europe  torn  down  and 
trampled  beneath  the  steady  march  of  human  progress.  He 
has  built  for  himself  a  monument  of  good  deeds,  which  the 
lapse  of  time  will  crystallize  into  adamant.  He  has  achieved  a 
fame  as  lasting  as  it  is  splendid.  Antiquity  has  had  her  Moses, 
crowned  with  the  laurels  of  a  divine  legislation;  the  middle 
ages  her  Moses  Maimonides,  supreme  in  the  realms  of  philo- 
sophic lore;  the  eighteenth  century  her  Mendelssohn,  illustrious 
in  thought;  the  nineteenth  her  Montefiore,  illustrious  in  action. 
His  eyes  are  not  dim  nor  his  natural  force  abated. 

"To-day  a  second  century  dawns  upon  his  existence,  and  the 
civilized  world  with  one  acclaim  sends  him  joyous  greetings. 
Every  temple  in  the  land  reverberates  with  his  praises.  The 
grateful  prayers  of  the  myriads  who  have  received  the  benefi- 
cence of  his  charity  ascend  to  Him  who  is  the  Dispenser  of 
happiness  and  invoke  His  blessing  upon  the  head  of  the  phi- 
lanthropist." 

fl  CQoiPHBi^  OP  A  Family  op  Seyenty. 

Every  body  in  Pittsfield  knows  the  Tatro  tribe,  but  few  know 
their  remarkable  history.  High  up  on  Washington  Mountain, 
in  a  small  old  farm-house,  Isaac  Tatro  has  his  home.  Isaac  is 
sixty-three  years  old,  and,  while  neither  a  model  farmer  nor  a 
model  man,  has  a  model  wife.  Born  in  Canada  and  reare.l  by 
prudent  parents,  Isaac  wisely  remained  unmarried  until  he  was 
thirty-two  years  old.  Then  he  took  to  wife  a  widow  eight 
years  his  junior,  a  Mrs.  Lydia  Doras,  one  of  a  family  of  sixteen 
children  by  the  name  of  Shepherd.  Lydia  had  three  Doras 
children,  and  Isaac  groaned  not  a  little  because  of  the  size  of 
his  family.     But  the  poor  man  dreamed  not  of  what  was  in 


600  HISTORICAL  SKETCHES. 

store  for  him.  Thirty-one  years  have  passed  since  then,  and 
up  to  the  present  time  Mrs.  Tatro  has  presented  her  husband 
with  twenty-two  children,  making  twenty-five  by  including  the 
offspring  of  her  first  marriage.  Of  these  there  was  one  pair 
of  twins;  two  died  in  infancy;  seven  died  after  attaining  their 
growth,  and  sixteen  are  living,  the  oldest  about  forty  and  the 
youngest  a  babe.  Mrs.  Tatro  is  said  to  be  fifty-eight  years  old. 
Of  her  children  ten  were  boys  and  fifteen  girls.  All  have 
thriving  families.  The  grandchildren  and  great-grandchildren 
at  present  number  about  fifty.  This  mother  of  more  than  sev- 
enty souls  is  a  stalwart  Frenchwoman,  who  peddles  berries 
and  mats  from  house  to  house  at  Pittsfield,  and  looks  as  hearty 
and  strong  as  do  any  of  her  numerous  daughters. 

fl    OJONDBI^PUL    rjO^SE. 

In  the  year  1609  an  Englishman  named  Banks  had  a  horse 
which  he  had  trained  to  follow  him  wherever  he  went,  even 
over  fences  and  to  the  roofs  of  buildings.  He  and  his  horse 
went  to  the  top  of  that  immensely  high  structure,  St.  Paul's 
Church.  After  many  extraordinary  performances  at  home  the 
horse  and  his  master  went  to  Rome,  whei'e  they  performed  feats 
equally  astonishing.  But  the  result  was  that  both  Banks  and 
his  horse  were  burned  by  order  of  the  Pope  as  enchanters. 
Sir  Walter  Raleigh  observes  that,  had  Banks  lived  in  olden 
times,  he  would  have  shamed  all  the  enchanters  of  the  world, 
for  no  beast  ever  performed  such  wonders  as  his.  Fortunately 
for  men  like  Thorne,  Rice,  and  Franconi,  who  have  been  so 
successful  in  training  the  noblest  animal  in  creation  for  the 
stage-representations  of  Mazeppa,  Putnam's  Leap,  etc.,  and  for 
the  various  and  fantastic  tricks  which  have  won  so  much  admi- 
ration and  applause,  the  present  age  is  not  disgraced  by  such 
besotted  ignorance  and  superstition. 

The  Island  of  Cos,  in  the  Mediterranean,  contains  a  gigantic 
plane-tree,  in  whose  shades  Hippocrates,  the  Father  of  Medi- 
cine, is  said  by  tradition  to  have  been  consulted  by  his  patients. 
The  branches  overspread  nearly  the  whole  of  the  market-place 
of  the  town  of  Cos,  and  are  supported  by  marble  pillars. 
Photographs  of  this  ancient  tree  were  recently  exhibited  to  the 
Berlin  Medical  Society  by  Prof.  Virchow. 


A  CBIGAQO  ECONf^MT^T.  601 

P   <i)HI6AG0  GGONOMIST. 

In  an  interview  Joseph  Greenhut,  City  Inspector  of  Tene- 
ment Houses  and  Factories,  in  Chicago,  gives  some  interesting 
statements  on  the  labor  question.  Being  asked  what  were  the 
chief  causes  tending  to  keep  people  out  of  employment,  he 
said: 

"To  begin  with,  there  is  always  a  large  floating  population 
which  comes  here  to  secure  work.  This  is  demonstrated  by 
the  fact  that  there  are  twenty-five  thousand  more  males  than 
females  in  this  city.  Especially  during  the  winter,  after  the 
close  of  navigation  and  the  stopping  of  work  on  the  large  farms 
and  on  the  railroads,  tens  of  thousands  flock  to  Chicago,  where 
they  can  live  as  cheaply  as  anywhere  else,  and  enjoy  the  pleas- 
ures of  a  large  city. 

"A  large  number  of  persons  of  both  sexes  and  of  diflferent 
ages  have  for  years  been  accustomed  to  be  out  of  employment 
for  weeks  and  months  beause  the  productiveness  of  labor,  aided 
by  machinery,  and  steam  power,  and  foreign  competition,  fill 
the  markets  periodically  to  such  a  degree  that  a  stoppage  of 
further  production  for  considerable  intervals  is  necessary  now 
and  then.  Vast  numbers  of  immigrants  persist  in  the  habit  of 
cheaj:)  living,  and  thereby  withhold  employment  from  skilled 
and  intellectual  labor.  Many  varieties  of  handicraft  and  com- 
mercial employments  are  underpaid,  and  in  consequence  of  the 
inability  of  those  engaged  in  them  to  consume  the  articles  of 
trade  and  commerce,  the  markets  become  glutted  and  factories 
reduced  in  working  forces  and  hours  of  labor." 

"  What  are  some  of  the  causes  which  reduce  the  price  of 
labor? " 

"The  unit  of  wages  is  the  actual  cost  of  human  living,  but 
the  standard  of  living  varies  according  to  the  race  and  nation- 
ality. The  Anglo-American  rises  to  the  highest,  and  the  Italian 
falls  to  the  lowest.  Colored  people  have,  in  many  cases,  a  less 
costly  style  of  living  than  whites,  and,  therefore,  work  for  less 
wages  than  whites.  They  have  taken  the  places  of  Anglo- 
American  waiters  in  hotels  and  restaurants  and  on  steamboats. 
Italians,  Poles,  Bohemians,  Slavs,  and  Hungarians  have  dis- 
placed Anglo-Americans  in  out-door  hard  work,  because  they 
are  ready  to  submit  to  greater  exertions  for  much  less  pay 


602  HISTORICAL  SKETCHES. 

"Anglo-Americans  would  starve  and  die  out  if  compelled  to 
accept  the  low  rate  of  wages  on  which  poor  immigrants  thrive 
and  perpetuate  their  race.  A  trade  affording  employment  all 
the  year,  and  requiring  no  particular  skill  or  experience,  will 
bring  in  the  local  labor  market,  on  an  average,  $1.20  a  day.  But 
large  employers  of  labor  often  attempt  to  displace  high-priced 
help  by  cheap  immigrant  labor,  and  often  succeed  in  perma- 
nently reducing  wages  by  ousting  native  labor  and  replacing  it 
by  Canadian  and  European  immigrants.  As  a  matter  of  fact, 
the  bulk  of  unskilled  labor  and  a  large  proportion  of  skilled 
manual  labor  in  Chicago  is  un-American,  while  the  Americans 
are  overcrowding  the  commercial  and  intellectual  occupations. 
Manual  training  schools  are  one  of  the  most  pi'essing  demands 
as  an  extension  of  the  system  of  free  schools,  in  order  to  teach 
the  rudiments  of  mechanical  labor  to  the  whole  people,  and 
enable  persons  to  change  their  avocations." 

Mr.  Greenhut  holds  that  public  policy  should  require  high 
wages  and  low  profits,  because  the  vast  mass  of  the  people  will 
always  remain  wage-workers,  or  small,  self-employed  shop- 
keepers, or  farmers.  The  I'ich  employers  and  corporations  are 
comparatively  few,  and  are  abundantly  able  to  take  care  of  them- 
selves. But  the  proletarians,  who  live  from  hand  to  mouth,  com- 
prise a  large  proportion  of  the  whole  population,  and  if  their 
purchasing  and  consuming  ability  is  reduced  by  low  wages,  they 
cannot  buy  manufactured  goods  and  other  products  in  very 
large  quantities. 

SGOTLAND   and    r^BI^   ©HISTIiE. 

Once  durmg  an  invasion  of  Scotland  by  the  Danes  they  ar- 
ranged to  surprise  the  Scottish  army.  It  was  not  considered 
fair  or  warlike  to  attack  an  enemy  in  the  darkness  of  the  night. 
So  they  resolved  to  march  barefooted,  that  their  tramp  might 
not  be  heard.  Silently,  slowly,  but  steadily,  they  drew  nearer 
and  nearer  to  the  Scottish  camp.  In  a  few  minutes  the  surprise 
would  have  been  complete.  Suddenly  a  loud  cry  of  pain  rang 
through  the  air,  startling  both  invader  and  invaded.  The  Scots 
sprang  to  their  feet,  seized  their  weapons,  charged  upon  the 
foe,  and  defeated  them  with  great  slaughter.  The  cry  that 
saved  them  came  from  one  of  the  Danish  soldiers,  who  with  his 
bare  foot  had  trod  on  a  thistle. 


ANECDOTE  OF  GARFIELD.  603 

pNEGDOTB   OP   GaI^PIBLD. 

When  Gen.  Garfield  was  on  his  way  to  Washington  to  be 

inaugurated  as  President  of  the  United  States,  John  B ,  a 

well-known  public  man  from  Ashtabula,  boarded  the  train. 
He  had  been  one  of  Garfield's  pupils  when  the  latter  taught  in 
a   littte  log  school-house  in  the  backwoods.     As  the  teacher 

boarded  with  Mr.  B 's  mother,  Jhey  had  been  more  intimate 

than  was  usual  with  master  and  scholar. 

Many  significant  stories  were  told  when  they  met,  which 
illustrated  the  hard  struggles  of  the  future  President  in  his 
youth.  One  was  that  on  some  occasion  he  was  invited  to  a 
country  party,  but  on  the  very  day  it  was  to  take  place  he  split 
at  the  knee  one  leg  of  his  trousers.  He  had  but  one  pair  of 
very  coarse  jeans,  and  no  money  to  buy  another.  Garfield  had 
set  his  heart  on  going  to  the  merry-making,  and  was  bitterly 
disappointed. 

"You  go  to  bed,"  said  his  hostess,  "and  let  me  see  what  I 
can  do." 

The  teacher  obeyed,  and  in  an  hour  received  his  trousers  so 
neatly  darned  that  it  was  impossible  to  find  where  they  had 
been  broken.  He  thanked  her  so  earnestly  that  the  good  woman 
cried  out: 

"Never  mind,  Mr.  Garfield!  When  you're  a  great  man  in 
the  Ohio  Legislature  nobody'll  ask  how  many  pairs  of  trousers 
you  had  when  you  taught  up  here  in  the  Reserve!" 

This  little  incident  recalls  a  story  told  of  our  other  martyred 
President.  In  1830  a  traveling  peddler  came  one  evening  to  a 
cabin  in  Illinois,  and  asked  the  farmer's  wife  if  he  could  stay  at 
the  house  all  night. 

"We  can  feed  your  beast,"  was  the  answer,  "but  we  cannot 
lodge  you  unless  you  are  willing  to  sleep  with  the  hired  man." 

"  Let's  have  a  look  at  him  first,"  said  the  peddler. 

The  woman  pointed  to  the  side  of  the  house,  where  a  lank, 
six-foot  man,  in  ragged  but  clean  clothes,  was  stretched  on  the 
grass  reading  a  book.     "  He'll  do,"  said  the  stranger. 

The  "  hired  man  "  was  Abraham  Lincoln. 

When  this  poor  teacher  and  farm-hand  died  the  whole  civil- 
ized world  acknowledged  their  intellectual  force  and  the  noble 
sei"vice  they  had  rendered  mankind.     We  all  know  that  in  no 


604  HISTORICAL  SKETCHES. 

country  but  this  could  such  men  have  reached  a  height  suffi- 
ciently lofty  to  command  the  notice  of  the  world."  But  it  is  a 
fact  not  so  often  recognized  that  the  leading  men  in  this  country 
and  the  most  influential  of  her  rulers,  have  been,  like  Garfield 
and  Lincoln,  "  country  boys." 

Original  force  is  sometimes  diminished  by  the  friction  of  city 
life,  v\^hich  in  other  respects  is  an  advantage  to  the  growling 
mind.  « 

Boys  flGAin. 

It  is  related  of  the  late  Judge  Black  that  in  1857,  just  after  he 
was  appointed  Attorney-general  of  the  United  States,  he  was 
staying  at  the  Astor  House  in  New^  York.  Scores  of  leading 
politicians  called  upon  him.  One  day  a  small,  gray-haired  inan 
arrived  at  the  hotel  and  registered  himself  as  Judge  J.  Williams, 
Iowa.  On  seeing  the  name  of  Judge  Black  on  the  book,  he 
took  a  card  and  wrote: 

"The  Supreme  Judge  of  Iowa  presents  his  compliments  to 
the  Attorney-general  of  the  United  States." 

He  sent  this  up  to  Judge  Black's  room,  together  with  a  half- 
sheet  of  paper  on  which  he  had  written: 

"O  Jerry,  dear  Jerry,  I've  found  you  at  last. 
And  memory,  burdened  with  scenes  of  the  past, 
Returns  to  old  Somerset's  mountains  of  snow. 
When  you  was  but  Jerry  and  I  was  but  Joe." 

In  less  than  three  ininutes  the  great,  dignified  Judge  Black 
was  coming  down  the  stairs,  two  steps  at  a  time,  with  the  little 
bell-boy  in  close  pursuit. 

Two  old  school-mates  and  law  students  were  together  after  fi 
separation  of  some  thirty  years.  Two  old  men  embraced  each 
other,  and  neither  was  able  to  utter  a  word.  Both  have  passed 
away,  and  no  better  representatives  of  the  American  bar  that 
have  sprung  from  humble  origin  can  be  found  in  American 
history. 

When  President  Harrison  was  leaving  home  for  Washing- 
ton he  was  advised  to  get  a  big  dog  to  keep  the  boys  from 
stealing  his  fruit.  The  President  replied:  "  I  would  sooner  get 
a  Sunday-school  teacher  to  tell  the  boys  not  to  steal.  Find  the 
boys  a  teacher,  and  I  will  give  them  apples  enough." 


HISTOR  Y  OF  AMERICAN  LABOR  AND  WAGES.  605 

f^ISTOI^Y   OP   f^MBF^IGAN    liABOI^  AND  OJAGBS. 


BY  PROF.  e.  T.  McCAY, 


The  high  prices  of  labor  in  our  country,  and  the  large  profit* 
of  capital,  have  been  remarked  from  the  earliest  period  of  our 
history.  Adam  Smith,  in  his  "  Wealth  of  Nations,"  proposed 
an  explanation  of  these  two  peculiarities,  and  there  is  no  doubt 
that  his  keen  insight  discovered  their  true  cause  in  the  abun- 
dance and  cheapness  of  good  land.  The  large  products  of  our 
rich  virgin  soil,  purchased  from  the  Indians  at  a  mere  nominal 
price,  enabled  the  farmer  to  offer  high  wages  to  the  laborer,  and 
large  interest  to  the  capitalist.  The  owner  of  the  land,  who  was 
generally  a  laborer  himself,  paid  no  rent,  and  had  made  but  a 
small  outlay  to  purchase  his  farm,  so  that  nearly  the  whole  of 
his  product  was  the  reward  of  his  labor.  If  he  could  find  a  poor 
man  who  had  not  means  enough  to  purchase  and  stock  a  farm, 
he  could  afford  to  offer  him  high  wages,  because  he  would  be 
himself  more  than  paid  by  his  increased  products.  These  high 
wages  soon  enabled  the  hired  laborer  to  become  a  land-propri- 
etor himself,  and  both  were  then  competitors  in  the  market  for 
all  the  labor  that  could  be  hired.  This  competition  forced  the 
rate  of  wages  as  high  as  their  abundant  crops  authorized  them 
to  pay.  The  artisans  of  the  towns  were  tempted  from  their 
shops  by  the  large  reward  offered  for  their  labor  in  the  country; 
and  the  few  who  remained  at  their  trades  asked  high  prices  for 
their  work.  This  they  readily  obtained,  for  their  only  compet- 
itors were  across  the  sea,  three  thousand  miles  distant,  with  slow 
and  irregular  communication,  so  that  the  foreign  mechanics 
could  not  force  those  who  were  here  to  reduce  their  prices  to 
the  standard  of  the  Old  World.  Thus,  in  the  town  and  the 
country,  in  mechanical  as  well  as  agricultural  labor,  a  high  rate 
of  wages  was  kept  up  by  the  abundance  and  cheapness  of 
good  land. 

As  capital  is  an  aid  to  labor,  by  enlarging  its  products,  the 
rate  of  interest  is  high  where  labor  is  productive.  The  distrust 
of  capitalists  who  were  separated  from  us  by  the  wide  Atlantic, 
and  their  ignorance  of  our  pursuits,  and  means,  and  credit,  pre- 
vented them  from  entering  into  competition  with  the  capitalists 
here,  so  that  they  easily  obtained  all  the  borrower  was  able  to 


606  HISTORICAL  SKETCHES. 

pay.  This  was  a  very  high  rate,  because  the  money  was  of 
great  advantage.  Whether  the  farmer  borrowed  it  to  buy  more 
lands,  or  plows,  or  stock,  or  the  mechanic  to  enlarge  his  pow- 
ers of  production  by  new  machines,  or  tools,  or  materials,  both 
were' able  to  pay  a  \a.YgQ  percentage,  on  account  of  the  profits  of 
their  increased  business.  Thus  cheap,  rich  lands  not  only  ad- 
vanced the  rate  of  wages,  but  of  interest  also. 

This  explanation  was  satisfactory  during  all  the  period  of  our 
colonial  history.  It  was  still  plausible  after  the  war  of  Inde- 
pendence; for,  although  our  population  had  advanced  into  the 
interior,  and  the  price  of  lands  along  the  sea-board  had  risen  so 
that  the  products  of  the  soil  were  charged  before  they  could 
be  exported,  with  rent  or  with  the  cost  of  inland  transporta- 
tion, leaving  a  smaller  portion  of  the  proceeds  for  the  share  of 
the  laborer,  the  wars  in  Europe  connected  with  the  French 
Revolution  increased  the  demand  for  breadstufFs,  and  main- 
tained them  at  high  prices.  Our  neutral  position  gave  us  the 
carrying  trade  between  the  belligerents,  and  this  required  a 
large  number  of  American  ships.  These  being  built  of  timber 
procured  from  our  abundant  forests,  brought  large  returns  to 
the  laborer.  The  trees  that  were  felled  and  converted  into 
ship-timber  cost  nothing,  or  but  a  trifle;  so  that  the  whole  value 
of  the  timber  consiste'd  of  wages  only,  and  the  cost  of  trans- 
portation to  the  sea-port.  As  this  distance  was  short,  nearly 
the  whole  was  wages. 

Thus,  even  to  the  war  of  1812,  our  rich,  cheap  lands  were  the 
source  of  our  prosperity,  and  the  explanation  proposed  by  Dr. 
Smith  for  the  high  rate  of  wages  and  of  interest  prevailing 
here  was  still  satisfactory.  But  when  peace  was  restoi'ed,  in 
1815,  and  the  immense  armies  of  the  different  States  of  Europe 
were  returned  to  their  homes  to  become  producers  instead  of 
consumers;  when  the  several  countries  encouraged  their  own 
shipping  and  their  own  farmers  by  restoring  their  usual  prohi- 
bitions and  restrictions,  the  advantages  we  possessed  before  the 
war  were  very  much  lessened.  Our  country  had  by  this  time 
become  more  populous.  Lands  along  the  sea-board  had  risen 
in  price;  the  people  had  penetrated  the  interior;  the  distant 
transportation  had  become  a  heavy  burden  to  the  producer; 
and  thus,  at  the  very  same  time  that  the  European  demand  was 
lessened,  and  the  price  depressed,  our  ability  to  supply  the  de- 


HISTORY  OF  AMERICAN  LABO  It  AS  D  WAG  EH.  607 

mand  with  profit  was  decreased.  The  money  value  of  our 
products  was  diminished,  and  the  laborer's  share  in  this  vahic 
was  at  the  same  time  lessened.  The  usefulness  of  our  cheap 
lands  was  decreased,  and  their  advantages  were  less  experienced. 

If  we  come  down  to  recent  times,  our  advantages  have  not 
improved.  Our  country  has  become  larger.  The  region  of 
cheap  land  is  beyond  the  AUeghanies.  We  must  take  a  journey 
a  thousand  miles  from  New  York,  crossing  the  Ohio  and  the 
Wabash,  passing  Indiana  and  Illinois,  befoic  we  reach  the 
country  of  cheap  lands.  The  grain  that  is  brought  down  the 
Hudson  from  Albany  has  been  carried  more  than  three  hundred 
miles,  in  the  Erie  Canal,  from  Buffalo,  and  more  than  a  thousand, 
by  vessels  on  the  lakes,  from  Chicago,  and  thither  from  the  in- 
terior of  Illinois  by  railroad.  There  the  land  on  which  it  was 
produced  is  worth  ten,  twenty,  and  fifty  dollars  per  acre.  Now, 
however  cheap  the  transportation  by  railroad  and  on  the  lakes, 
the  canal,  and  the  river,  the  freight  must  be  a  large  percentage 
of  the  sales  at  New  York.  The  rent  of  land  in  Illinois  is  also 
to  be  deducted,  leaving  but  a  small  balance  to  be  finally  paid 
the  laborer  who  has  produced  it.  We  must  go  hundreds  of 
miles  further  to  reach  the  region  of  cheap  land,  and  then  the 
increased  cost  of  transportation  will  neutralize  the  advantage 
of  procuring  land  at  a  dollar  and  a  quarter  per  acre. 

Now,  will  the  cheap  lands  of  Iowa,  and  Wisconsin,  and  Ne- 
braska, explain  our  high  rates  of  wages?  In  colonial  times  the 
product  was  made  along  the  Atlantic,  and  nearly  the  whole 
price  at  Philadelphia  went  to  the  laborer.  Now,  a  large  per- 
centage must  be  deducted  for  the  two  thousand  miles'  carriage 
by  land,  lake,  canal,  and  river,  and  the  laborer's  share  is  small. 
The  truth  is,  the  pioneer  is  poorly  paid;  he  is  struggling  hard 
for  a  mere  pittance.  His  receipts  are  small,  and  he  can  give 
but  a  small  price  for  the  hireling  he  employs  to  assist  him  on 
his  farm.  He  is  no  longer  the  cause  of  high  wages  through  the 
whole  breadth  of  the  land;  his  influence  and  empire  have  ceased. 

And  history, 
A  mournful  follower  in  the  track  of  man, 
Whose  path  is  over  ruin  and  the  grave. 
May  linger  for  a  moment  in  the  place 
Beside  a  worn  inscription,  and  be  sad. 


608  HISTORICAL  SKETCHES. 

rjisiPoi^Y. 


BY  JOHN  L.  MOTLEY. 


There  is  no  such  thing  as  human  history.  Nothing  can  be 
more  profoundly,  sadly  true.  The  annals  of  mankind  have 
never  been  written,  never  can  be  written;  nor  would  it  be  with- 
in human  capacity  to  read  them  if  they  were  written.  We 
have  a  leaf  or  two  torn  from  the  great  book  of  human  fate  as 
it  flutters  in  the  storm-winds  ever  sweeping  across  the  earth. 
We  decipher  them  as  we  best  can  with  purblind  eyes,  and  en- 
deavor to  learn  their  mystery  as  we  float  along  the  abyss;  but 
it  is  all  confused  babble — hieroglyphics  of  which  the  key  is 
lost. 

©HE   SnjINGING   Sr^BB. 

Though  the  tropical  scrubs  of  Queensland  are  very  luxuriant 
and  beautiful,  they  are  not  without  their  dangerous  drawbacks, 
for  there  is  one  plant  growing  in  them  that  is  real  deadly  in  its 
effects — that  is  to  say,  deadly  in  the  same  way  that  one  would 
apply  the  term  to  fire;  as,  if  a  certain  portion  of  one's  body  is 
burnt  by  the  stinging-tree,  death  will  be  the  result.  It  would  be 
as  safe  to  pass  through  fires  as  to  fall  into  one  of  these  trees. 
They  are  found  growing  from  two  and  three  inches  high  to  ten 
and  fifteen  feet.  In  the  old  ones  the  stem  is  whitish,  and  red 
berries  grow  on  the  top.  It  emits  a  peculiar,  disagreeable  smell, 
but  is  best  known  by  its  leaf,  which  is  nearly  round,  having  a 
point  on  the  top,  and  is  jagged  all  around  the  edge  like  the  net- 
tle.    All  the  leaves  are  large — some  larger  than  a  saucer. 

"  Sometimes,"  says  a  traveler,  "  while  shooting  turkeys  in  the 
scrubs,  I  have  entirely  forgotten  the  stinging-tree  till  warned 
of  its  close  proximity  by  its  smell,  and  I  have  then  found  my- 
self in  a  little  forest  of  them.  I  was  only  stung  once,  and  that 
was  very  lightly.  Its  effects  are  curious.  It  leaves  no  mark, 
but  the  pain  is  maddening,  and  for  months  afterward  the  part, 
when  touched,  is  tender  in  rainy  weather  or  when  it  gets  wet 
in  washing,  etc.  I  have  seen  a  man  who  treats  ordinary  pain 
lightly  roll  on  the  ground  in  agony  after  being  stung;  and  I 
have  known  a  horse  so  completely  mad  after  getting  into  a 
grove  of  the  trees  that  he  rushed  open-mouthed  at  every  one 


LAKE  WILLQUQHBY.  609 

who  approached  him,  and  had  to  be  shot  in  the  scrub.  Dogs 
when  stung  will  rush  about,  whining  piteously,  biting  piece* 
from  the  affected  part."  The  small  stinging-trees  a  few  inches 
high  are  as  dangerous  as  any,  being  so  hard  to  see,  and  seriously 
imperiling  one's  ankles.  The  scrub  is  uhually  found  growing 
among  palm-trees. 

LXAI^B  ^ILLOUGHBY. 

A  curious  freak  of  nature  is  found  at  Willoughby  Lake,  in 
the  northern  part  of  Vermont,  where  Mounts  Pisgah  and  Hor 
rise  over  2,5cx)  feet  from  the  water  and  4,000  feet  above  the  sea, 
and  are  less  than  a  mile  apart,  while  the  lake  below  is  of  un- 
known depth — all  efforts  to  sound  it  having  failed — and  is  sup- 
posed to  rest  at  the  level  of  the  sea,  A  few  years  ago  an  im- 
mense rock,  weighing  over  300  tons,  was  started  from  its  bed  at 
the  top  of  Mount  Pisgah,  and  fell  down  the  almost  perpendic- 
ular face  of  the  mountain  into  the  lake,  tearing  away  the  car- 
riage-road and  every  thing  that  opposed  it,  shaking  the  whole 
region  round,  and  being  heai'd  ten  or  fifteen  miles  away.  The 
lake  is  an  immense  natural  spring,  as  hardly  a  brook  flows  into 
it,  but  a  river  flows  out  large  enough  to  carry  extensive  mills. 
A  winding  foot-path  conducts  you  to  the  summit  of  Mount 
Pisgah,  which  is  abruptly  cut  off  on  the  side  nearest  the  lake, 
forming  a  perpendicular  precipice  nearly  3,000  feet  high,  below 
which  lies  water  of  such  singular  transparency  that  one  can 
see  more  than  100  feet  below  the  surface.  The  temptation  to 
leap  from  such  a  height  is  almost  irresistable,  and  no  one  has  yet 
visited  the  place  of  strong  enough  nerve  to  stand  erect  and  look 
over  the  brink,  but  visitors  crawl  up  on  hands  and  knees  to 
satisfy  their  curiosity.  The  view  from  this  height  is  grand. 
To  the  east  can  be  seen  the  White  Mountains  and  the  Connec- 
ticut river,  winding  down  eighty  miles  of  its  course;  to  the 
north  and  north-west  are  Monadnock,  fifty  miles  away,  and  the 
entire  length  of  Lake  Memphremagog,  and  to  the  west  is  seen 
the  western  range  of  the  Green  Mountains.  The  scenery  is  un- 
surpassed in  New  England,  and  the  drive  over  the  carriage- 
road  which  skirts  the  lake  and  connects  Orleans  and  Caledonia 
counties  is  the  most  picturesque  of  any  in  the  State. 

It  is  a  mistake  to  suppose  that  history  ever  repeats  itself. 
39 


610  HmTOBICAL  SKETCHES. 

no   LiAW  IN    P^ISJTOI^Y. 


BY  JOHN  STUART  MILL, 


From  this  time  any  political  thinker  who  fancies  himself  able 
to  dispense  with  a  connected  view  of  the  great  facts  pf  history, 
as  a  chain  of  causes  and  effects,  must  be  regarded  as  below  the 
level  of  the  ages;  while  the  vulgar  mode  of  using  history,  by 
looking  in  it  for  parallel  cases,  as  if  any  cases  were  parallel,  or 
as  if  a  single  instance  or  even  many  instances  not  compai'ed 
and  analyzed  could  reveal  a  law,  will  be  more  than  ever  and 
irrevocably  discredited. 

Over  530,000  copies  of  one  of  the  London  Graphic  special 
season  numbers  were  issued,  and  the  number  was  out  of  print 
in  a  few  days.  More  than  160  tons  of  paper  were  consumed, 
and  the  total  cost  of  production  was  $85,000.  The  pages,  if 
put  end  to  end,  would  have  made  an  unbroken  line  of  paper 
reaching  from  London  to  New  York.  The  whole  of  the  illus- 
trations being  printed  in  inany  colors,  and  each  sheet  having  to 
go  through  the  press  separately  for  each  color,  represents  a  total 
pf  over  15,000,000  impressions. 

Land's  End  is  a  remarkable  headland,  the  most  western  point 
of  Great  Britain,  projecting  into  the  Atlantic  at  the  western  ex- 
tremity of  Cornwall.  It  is  formed  of  granite  oliffs,  whose 
summits  are  sixty  feet  above  the  level  of  the  sea.  About  a 
mile  from  it  are  the  dangerous  rocks  called  Longships,  0:1  which 
is  a  light-house  with  a  fixed  light  88  feet  above  high  water. 
On  a  peninsula  near  by  is  one  of  those  natural  curiosities  called 
"Logging"  or  "Logan"  stones,  so  poised  that  they  can  be  made 
to  rock  easily. 

A  few  years  ago  what  is  now  the  great  onion  tract,  Chester, 
Orange  County,  N.  Y.,  was  a  worthless  piece  of  land.  To-day 
it  would  bring  $1,000  per  acre.  Last  season  on  these  meadows 
120,000  bushels  of  onions  were  grown,  which  were  sold  for 
more  than  $125,000.  This  season's  crop  will  be  even  largei*. 
There  are  no  other  equally  large  onion  tracts  in  the  country. 

•  There  is  an  oak  tree  near  Raleigh,  N.  C,  which,  at  the  sun's 
meridian,  covers  with  a  shade  a  space  of  9,000  feet. 


^^^V^^^-^^^Sr^^^ 


flNIMAL  IniJIELLIGBNGB. 


BY  W.  W.  BREESE. 


ONCERNING  the  amount  of  intelligence 
possessed  b}^  various  animals,  there  has 
been  a  large  fund  of  information  gathered, 
and  it  is  hard  for  us  to  realize  that  created 
beings,  with  so  much  sense  and  power  of  understand- 
ing, can  be  soulless  and  mortal.  The  old  theory, 
taught  universally  but  a  few  years  since,  and  still 
largely  held  by  intelligent  men,  that  all  animals,  aside 
from  man,  were  without  intellect  or  mind,  has  failed 
to  satisfy  the  candid  man,  who  has  thought  upon  the 
phenomena  recorded  by  the  natural  historian  in  his 
patient  investigations.  Mere  "  instinct,"  as  once 
taught  and  defined,  cannot  account  for  the  reason- 
ing and  thinking  powers  displayed  by  the  lower 
orders  of  animated  creation. 

Wonderful  are  the  fidelity  and  attachments  of  dogs. 
Have  we  not  the  famous  Bedgelert  of  Wales?  the  St. 
Bernards,  who  have  saved  so  many  lives  from  the 
snow  of  the  Alps?  the  famous  dogs  Rab  and  Nipper, 
so  wonderfully  described  by  Dr.  John  Brown?  the  dog 
of  Montargis,  who  vainly  defended  his  master,  Aubri- 

(611) 


612  NATURAL  HISTORY. 

de  Montdldier,  when  set  upon  by  his  deadly  foe  Ma- 
caire,  and  afterward  led  to  the  discovery  of  the  mur- 
derer? and  the  Duke  of  Richmond's  dog,  commem- 
orated by  Vandyke,  whose  sagacity  and  courage 
saved  his  master  from  assassination? 

It  has  been  expressed  as  a  firm  conviction  by  one 
celebrated  naturalist,  after  careful  and  painstaking  in- 
vestigation, that  the  dog  is  man's  best  friend.  He 
certainly  has  exhibited  the  highest  order  of  intellect 
in  all  the  realm  of  lower  animated  creation,  and  were 
it  not  for  the  dreadful  scourge  of  hydrophobia,  which^ 
like  the  monster  of  alcoholism  in  man,  infests  the 
canine  world,  we  should  not  fear  to  associate  freely 
with  him  upon  all  occasions.  Then,  too,  his  propen- 
sity to  kill  sheep,  like  the  scourge  of  kleptomania  in 
man,  ever  renders  the  dog  an  expensive  and  uncer-^ 
tain  factor  in  civilized  communities. 

The  dog  is  the  only  animal  able  to  follow  man  as 
far  and  as'  high  as  he  can  go,  but  the  finer  breeds  of 
dogs  cannot  long  endure  the  conditions  of  a  height 
of  more  than  12,500  feet,  and  there  are  towns  in  the 
Andes  at  as  great  a  height  as  13,500  or  14,000  feet. 

The  following  anecdote  illustrates  the  capacity  of 
dogs  to  be  educated,  and  certainly  exhibits  the  power 
of  reasoning  in  a  marked  degree: 

A  trio  of  puppies  kept  up  such  a  barking  that  the 
neighbors  threatened  to  have  the  owner  arrested  for 
causing  a  nuisance.  He  took  a  club,  and  when  one 
of  them  barked  he  chastised  the  one  he  thought  made 
the  noise.  But  he  soon  hit  on  the  plan  of  making 
the  trio  responsible  for  one  another,  and  on  hearing  a 
bark  he  chastised  all.  The  mother  was  with  them,, 
and  finally  the  barking  was  followed  by  a  squeal — the 


ANIMAL  INTELLIGENCE.  618 

mother  had  one  of  the  pups  by  the  neck.  The  mas- 
ter went  out  and  patted  her,  signifying  that  she  had 
done  well.  She  wagged  her  tail  in  satisfaction,  and 
the  dogs  never  barked  again,  except  on  the  most  pro- 
voking occasions. 

Here  is  another  anecdote  of  faithfulness  and  obedi- 
ence on  the  part  of  an  intelligent  dog  that  should  put 
to  the  blush  of  shame  many  men  who  call  themselves 
faithful  in  the  performance  of  duty,  and  yet  excuse 
themselves  for  neglect  and  idleness  from  the  most 
trifling  cause,  as  compared  with  this  dog: 

Out  on  a  Western  ranch  there  is  a  little  shepherd- 
dog  which  the  herder  would  not  sell  for  five  hundred 
dollars.  Dr.  Dio  Lewis  tells  a  stoty  which  shows 
why  she  is  so  highly  valued.  It  also  illustrates  the 
hard-heartedness  of  the  herder.     The  doctor  says: 

"  She  had  at  that  time  four  young  puppies.  The 
night  we  arrived  we  visited  his  camp,  and  were  greatly 
interested  in  the  little  mother  and  her  nursing  babies. 
Amid  those  wild,  vast  mountains  this  little  nest  of 
motherly  devotion  and  baby  trust  was  very  beautiful. 

"While  we  were  exclaiming,  the  assistant-herder 
came  to  say  that  there  were  more  than  twenty  sheep 
missing.  Two  male  dogs,  both  larger  than  the  little 
mother,  were  standing  about,  with  their  hands  in  their 
pockets,  doing  nothing.  But  the  herder  said  neither 
Tom  nor  Dick  would  find  them.  Flora  must  go.  It 
was  urged  by  the  assistant  that  her  foot  was  sore,  she 
had  been  hard  at  work  all  day,  was  nearly  worn  out, 
and  must  suckle  her  puppies. 

"  The  boss  insisted  that  she  must  go.  The  sun  was 
setting.  There  was  no  time  to  lose.  Flora  was  called 
and  told   to   hunt  for  lost  sheep,  while   her  master 


614  NATURAL  HISTORY. 

pointed  to  a  great  forest,  through  the  edge  of  which 
they  had  passed  on  their  way  up.  She  raised  her 
head,  but  seemed  very  loth  to  leave  her  babies.  The 
boss  called  sharply  to  her.  She  rose,  looking  tired 
and  low-spirited,  with  head  and  tail  down,  and  trotted 
off  towards  the  forest.     I  said,  '  That  is  too  bad.' 

"  '  O  she'll  be  right  back!  She's  lightning  on  stray 
sheep.' 

"The^next  morning  I  went  over  to  learn  whether 
Flora  found  the  strays.  While  we  were  speaking 
the  sheep  were  returning,  driven  by  the  little  dog^ 
w^ho  did  not  raise  her  head  or  wag  her  tail  even  when 
spoken  to,  but  crawled  to  her  puppies  and  lay  down 
by  them,  offering  the  little  empty  breasts.  She  had 
been  out  all  night,  and,  while  her  hungry  babies  were 
tugging  away,  fell  asleep.  I  have  never  seen  any- 
thing so  touching.  So  far  as  I  was  concerned, '  there 
was  not  a  dry  eye  in  the  house.' 

"  How  often  the  scene  comes  back  to  me — the  vast, 
gloomy  forest,  and  that  little  creature,  with  her  sore 
foot,  and  her  heart  crying  for  her  babies,  limping  and 
creeping  about  in  the  wild  canyons  all  through  the 
long,  dark  hours,  finding  and  gathering  in  the  lost 
sheep!" 

Where  is  the  man  who  would  perform  such  duties 
under  such  circumstances?  There  may  be  one  in  a 
thousand,  but  not  above  that  number. 

But  let  us  look  at.  another  friend  of  man  who  pos- 
sesses a  most  remarkable  degree  of  intelligence! 
How  much  do  we  owe  to  the  horse?  He  is  the 
source  of  joy  and  pleasure  to  many.  In  his  youth  and 
beauty  he  is  the  pet  of  his  owner.  Men,  women, 
and  boys  love  the  horse;  his  trot,  his  canter,  or  gallop 


ANIMAL  INTELLIGENCE.  615 

show  him  at  his  best.  The  horse  carries  us  long  and 
faithfully;  he  draws  our  burdens;  he  relieves  man  of 
a  great  load  of  labor. 

Still  another  animal  who  contributes  largely  to  the 
domestic  happiness  of  man,  adding  to  his  comfort  in 
many  ways,  is  the  cat.  The  cat  possesses  great  ca- 
pacity for  development  as  a  thinker.  We  give  the 
following  anecdotes  in  detail,  as  they  show  most  re- 
markable intellectual  power  in  that  species  of  ani- 
mated creation: 

Dahlonega,  Ga.,  boasts  of  a  cat  that  drinks  milk 
from  a  pitcher  by  inserting  its  foot  and  then  drawing 
it  through  its  mouth. 

The  following  is  related  in  the  Worcester  Gazette:  "A 
householder  is  the  possessor  of  two  Thomas  cats,  the 
elder  of  which  has  never  shown  anything  but  a  self- 
ish, grasping  disposition,  while  the  younger  is  the 
possessor  of  a  generous,  happy  spirit.  At  meal-time 
the  elder  of  these  two  feline  brothers  has  an  unpleas- 
ant habit  of  forcing  his  junior  to  sit  at  second  table, 
in  fact,  showing  a  selfish  and  catty  disposition.  His 
greediness  has  often  excited  the  indignation  of  mem- 
bers of  the  family,  and  when,  one  day,  the  daughter 
of  the  house  went  to  feed  them,  she  took  Master  Self- 
ishness by  the  nape  of  his  neck,  and  intimated  to  him 
that  he  should  wait  a  Jfew  minutes,  until  the  other  had 
had  his  dinner.  The  younger,  astonished  at  the  sud- 
den turn  affairs  had  taken,  gazed  as  if  paralyzed  at 
the  feast  thus  spread  before  him.  His  astonishment, 
however,  speedily  gave  place  to  pity;  he  could  not 
appreciate  the  justice  of  this  unusual  division  of  food. 
Grasping  in  his  jaws  the  largest  piece  of  liver  on  the 
plate,  he  hastened  to  deposit  it  beneath  the  nose  of 


616  NATURAL  HISTORY. 

his  captive  brother,  who  made  short  work  of  it,  while 
the  Samaritan  betook  himself  to  the  remainder  of  the 
food." 

The  eminent  lexicographer,  Dr.  Johnson,  had  a  cat 
of  which  he  was  so  fond  that  he  daily  went-  to  the 
market  and  purchased  a  piece  of  meat  for  it,  a  thing 
which  his  servant  considered  it  "  beneath  his  dignity  " 
to  do.  Indeed,  at  one  time,  the  doctor  was  unable  to 
write  if  puss  were  not  lying  on  his  table. 

Now,  if  such  "  weakness  "  was  pardonable  in  a  man 
like  Dr.  Johnson,  it  certainly  is  excusable  when  mani- 
fested by  ordinary  mortals. 

We  frankly  confess  to  an  especial  fondness  for  fe- 
lines, though  they  are  said  to  be  treacherous  and  des- 
titute of  any  affection  for  human  kind — which  we  will 
not  believe,  and  we  are  always  pleased  to  hear  a  "  cat 
story." 

A  lady  in  Manchester,  N.  H.,  owned  a  cat  and  a 
canary.  Entering  her  sitting-room  one  afternoon,  the 
cat  ran  to  her,  put  its  paws  upon  her  dress,  and 
mewed  loudly.  What  the  animal — usually  very  quiet 
— meant  by  such  demonstrations,  she  did  not  under- 
stand. Presently,  noticing  that  the  bird  —  a  great 
singer — was  silent,  she  looked  up  to  the  cage,  to  find 
its  door  open,  its  former  tenant  gone. 

"Kitty,  have  you  killed  Dick?"  she  asked,  in  an 
angry  tone. 

Again  puss  put  its  paws  on  her  dress  and  mewed, 
at  the  same  time  glancing  at  the  top  of  a  window. 
The  upper  sash  had  been  lowered,  for  ventilation,  and 
it  at  once  flashed  through  the  lady's  mind  that  the 
opening  thus  made  had  furnished  the  canary's  means 
of  escape. 


ANIMAL  INTELLIGENCE.  617 

Soon  the  cat  manifested  a  desire  to  leave  the  room, 
and  was  let  out.  Nothing  was  seen  of  it  for  three 
days,  when  it  returned,  bearing  in  its  mouth  the  fugi- 
tive bird,  which  it  laid  at  its  mistress's  feet  unhurt. 

A  cat  in  Weare,  N.  H.,  during  the  absence  from 
home  of  the  family  to  which  it  belonged,  was,  last 
autumn,  slightly  wounded;  how,  it  was  not  known, 
but  presumably  by  a  dog.  Previously  jet-black,  it 
immediately  began  to  grow  white,  and  by  mid-winter 
its  every  hair  had  become  white. 

Numerous  instances  are  on  record  of  people  having 
been  so  frightened  as  to  blanch  their  heads;  and  the 
owners  of  this  cat  think,  as  do  we,  that  fear  effected 
the  change  above  noted,  and  indirectly  caused  the  an- 
imal's death — for  poor  puss  has  gone  the  way  of  the 
world.     So  far  as  we  know,  it  is  a  unique  case. 

Nor  is  the  possession  of  what  we  call  the  power  of 
thought,  or  intelligence,  confined  to  domestic  animals 
altogether.  Coming  in  contact  with  the-more  refined 
and  sharper  intelligence  of  man  causes  a  development 
of  intellect  in  animals  that  cannot  be  found  in  the 
wild  condition  of  the  same  species.  But  this  is  also 
true  of  man  in  his  undeveloped  and  savage  state,  as 
compared  with  the  condition  of  man  who  has  been 
subject  to  the  refining  and  guiding  influences  of  Deity 
himself,  as  expressed  in  his  Holy  Word,  and  found 
only  in  civilized  races  upon  earth.  The  following 
beautifully  expressed  thoughts  upon  the  occupation 
of  the  various  orders  of  natural  history  commends 
itself  in  this  connection  to  every  earnest  and  thought- 
ful person: 

"Did  you  ever  read  about  the. different  kinds  of 
trades  the  many  outside  dwellers  are  plying?     They 


618  NATURAL  HISTORY. 

get  about  their  work  by  daybreak,  when  most  of  the 
children  are  sleeping  sweetly  and  soundly  on  their 
snowy  pillows.  Wilson  Flagg,  in  his  book  of  birds, 
speaks  of  them  as  musicians.  He  calls  the  robin  the 
clarionet-player,  the  blue-bird  the  flageolet,  the  hair- 
bird  the  octave  flute,  and  the  golden  robin  the  bugle. 
The  birds  are  the  musical  characters.  What  are  the 
wasps?  They  are  paper-makers.  They  make  paper 
out  of  the  materiitls  the  paper-mills  could  not  use  at 
all.  Their  nests  are  made  of  paper.  If  3^ou  examine 
one,  you  will  see  how  they  are  made;  but  look  out  for 
the  wasps  inside.  The  caterpillar  is  a  silk-spinner. 
The  mole  is  an  engineer;  he  can  form  a  tunnel  quite 
as  well  as  if  he  had  taken  an  engineering-course  in 
one  of  our  colleges.  The  bee,  we  are  told,  is  a  pro- 
fessor of  geometry.  He  constructs  his  cells  scientif- 
ically. All  the  great  mathematicians  in  the  world 
could  not  make  them  as  the  bee  does.  The  nautilus 
is  a  navigator,  hoisting  and  taking  in  his  sails  as  he 
floats  along  the  water,  and  casting  anchor  at  pleasure. 
The  kingfisher  and  heron  are  fishermen.  When  you 
go  to  the  ocean  beach,  watch  them,  and  see  how  skill- 
fully they  fish.  They  don't  often  go  away  without 
any  fish,  as  I  have  many  times  seen  the  boys  and  girls 
go,  with  disappointed  faces.  One  secret  of  success 
may  be  that  they  keep  very  still  and  do  not  chatter  to 
each  other.  The  beetle  is  a  grave-digger.  He  goes 
about  his  work  very  solemnly,  and  it  would  be  well 
worth  while  for  you  to  watch  him  at  his  work.  In 
the  evening,  the  lamp-lighters  come  out  and  light  up 
the  woods  and  gardens.  They  are  the* firefly  and  the 
glow-worm.  The  J^eavers  are  carpenters  and  masons. 
We  might  keep  on  enumerating  the  diflerent  trades 


ANIMAL  INTELLIGENCE.  C19 

of  these  busy  little  workers;  but  every  boy  and  girl 
who  has  an  opportunity^  of  watching  the  busy  life  of 
the  outside  world  of  nature  will  be  surprised  to  find 
how  much  there  is  of  importance  going  on,  and  how 
much  these  little  creatures  God  has  made  are  capable 
of  doing." 

Even  the  lowest  orders,  such  as  the  ant,  the  bee, 
the  spider,  and  other  insects,  exhibit  wonderful  capac- 
ity and  intelligence  at  times.  We  shall  close  this  arti- 
cle, however,  with  the  following -anecdote  of  an  intel- 
ligent toad,  and  refer  the  reader  to  the  various  sketches 
under  this  department  in  the  following  pages  for  a 
further  study  of  this  subject: 

"  Mr.  Charles  White,  of  Newcastle,  has  a  brood  of 
chickens  which  have  the  run  of  a  portion  of  the  yard, 
the  old  hen  being  kept  shut  up.  The  chickens  are 
fed  with  moistened  meal  in  saucers,  and  when  the 
dough  gets  a  little  sour  it  attracts  a  large  number  of 
flies.  An  observant  toad  has  evidently  noticed  this, 
and  every  day,  along  towaM  evening,  he  makes  his 
appearance  in  the  yard,  hops  to  a  saucer,  climbs  in, 
and  rolls  over  and  over  until  he  is  covered  with  meal; 
having  done  which,  he  awaits  developments.  The 
flies,  enticed  by  the  smell,  soon  swarm  around  the 
scheming  batrachian,  and  whenever  one  passes  with- 
in two  inches  or  so  of  his  nose  his  tongue  darts  out 
and  the  fly  disappears;  and  this  plan  works  so  well 
that  the  toad  has  taken  it  up  as  a  regular  business. 
The  chickens  do  not  manifest  the  least  alarm  at  their 
clumsy  and  big-mouthed  playmate,  but  seem  to  con- 
sider it  quite  a  lark  to  gather  around  him  and  peck 
off  his  stolen  coat  of  meal,  even  when  they  have 
plenty  more  of  the  same  sort  in  the  saucers." 


620  NATURAL  HISTORY. 

INTBLLIGBNGB    OP   fiNIMALS. 

Borlase  says  he  saw  a  lobster  httack  an  oyster,  which  per- 
sisted in  closing  its  shell  as  often  as  the  lobster  attempted  to  in- 
trude within  it.  After  many  failures  the  lobster  took  a  small 
stone  and  placed  it  between  the  shells  as  soon  as  they  were  sep- 
arated, and  then  devoured  the  fish. 

Mr.  Gardener,  in  his  "Curiosities  of  Natural  History,"  states 
that  he  once  watched  a  crab  enlarging  his  burrow  in  the  sand, 
and  about  every  two  minutes  it  came  up  to  the  surface  with  a 
quantity  of  sand  in  its  left  claw,  and  by  a  sudden  jerk  threw  it 
to  the  distance  of  about  six  inches.  Having  a  few  shells  in  his 
pocket,  he  endeavoi-ed  to  throw  one  of  them  into  the  hole. 
Three  of  them  fell  near,  and  the  fourth  rolled  into  it.  Five 
minutes  afterward  the  animal  made  its  appearance,  bringing 
with  it  the  shell  which  had  gone  down,  and  carrying  it  to  the 
distance  of  a  foot  from  its  burrow,  there  deposited  it.  See- 
ing the  others  lying  near  the  mouth  of  the  hole,  it  immediately 
carried  them,  one  by  one,  to  the  place  where  the  first  had  been 
deposited,  and  then  resumed  its  original  labor. 

Dudges  saw  a  spider  which  had  seized  a  bee  by  the  back  and 
eflTectually  prevented  it  from  taking  flight,  but  its  legs  being  at 
liberty  the  bee  dragged  the  spider  along,  which  presently  sus- 
pended it  by  a  thread  from  its'  web,  leaving  it  to  dangle  in  the 
air  till  it  was  dead,  and  then  it  was  drawn  up  and  devoured. 

An  individual  living  in  the  square  at  St.  Mark's,  Venicej  has 
been  in  the  habit  of  scattering  grain  every  day  at  two  o'clock, 
previous  to  which  hour  the  birds  assembled  in  one  place  on  the 
cathedral,  and  as  the  clock  strikes  they  take  wing  and  hover 
round  his  window  in  small  circles  till  he  appears  and  disti^ibutes 
a  few  handfuls  of  food.  This,  at  all  events,  indicates  the  facility 
of  noting  time,  and  may  be  placed  on  a  parallel  with  the  story 
of  the  dog  which  went  to  church  regularly  every  Sunday,  at 
the  proper  hour,  to  meet  his  master. 

Animals  are  prompt  in  using  their  experience  in  reference  to 
things  from  which  they  have  suffered  pain  or  annoyance.  Grant 
mentions  an  orang-outang,  which  having  had,  when  ill,  some 
medicine  administered  to  him  in  an  egg,  could  never  be  induced 
to  take  one  afterward.  Le  Vaillant's  monkey  was  extremely 
fond  of  brandy,  but  could  never  be  j^revailed  upon  to  touch  it 


FELINE  CLOCKS.  621 

again  after  a  lighted  match  had  been  applied  to  some  it  Was 
drinking.  A  dog,  having  great  antipathy  to  the  sound  of  the 
violin,  always  tried  to  get  the  bow  and  conceal  it.  Plutarcii 
tells  a  strange  story  of  a  mule,  which,  when  laden  with  salt,  fell 
into  a  stream,  and  finding  its  load  thereby  lightened,  adopted 
the  experiment  afterward,  and  whenever  it  crossed  a  stream 
slipped  into  the  water  with  its  panniers.  To  cure  it  of  the  trick  * 
the  panniers  were  filled  with  sponge,  under  which,  when  fully 
saturated,  it  could  barely  stagger.  • 

Rblinb  (slogi^s. 

M.  Hue,  in  his  recent  work  on  the  Chinese  Empire,  tells  us 
that  "  one  day,  when  he  went  to  pay  a  visit  to  some  families  of 
Chinese  Christian  peasants,  we  met  near  a  farm  a  young  lad, 
who  was  taking  a  buffalo  to  graze  along  our  path.  We  asked 
him  carelessly,  as  we  passed,  whether  it  was  yet  noon.  The 
child  raised  his  head  to  look  at  the  sun,  but  it  was  hidden  be- 
hind thick  clouds,  and  he  could  read  no  answer  there.  'The 
sky  is  so  cloudy,'  said  he;  'but  wait  a  moment,'  and  with  these 
words  he  ran  towards  the  farm  and  came  back  a  few  moments 
afterward  with  a  cat  in  his  arms.  'Look  here,'  said  he;  'it  is 
not  noon  yet,'  and  he  showed  us  the  cat's  eyes  by  pushing  up 
the  lids  with  his  hands.  We  looked  at  the  child  with  surprise, 
but  he  was  evidently  in  earnest,  and  the  cat,  though  astonished 
and  not  much  pleased  with  the  experiment  made  on  her  eyes, 
behaved  with  the  most  exemplary  complaisance.  'Very  well,' 
said  we;  'thank  you,'  and  he  then  let  go  the  cat,  who  made  her 
escape  pretty  quickly,  and  we  continued  our  route.  To  say  the 
truth,  we  had  not  at  all  understood  the  proceeding,  but  we  did 
not  wish  to  question  the  little  pagan,  lest  he  should  find  out  that 
we  weie  Europeans  by  our  ignorance.  As  soon  as  we  reached 
the  farm,  however,  we  made  haste  to  ask  our  Christian  friends 
whether  they  could  tell  the  time  by  looking  into  a  cat's  eye. 
They  seemed  surprised  at  the  question,  but  as  there  was  no  dan- 
ger in  confessing  to  them  our  ignorance  of  the  properties  of  the 
cat's  eyes,  we  related  what  had  just  taken  place.  That  was  all 
that  was  necessary,  Our  complaisant  neophytes  immediately 
gave  chase  to  all  the  cats  in  the  neighborhood.  They  brought 
us  three  or  four,  and  explained  in  what  manner  they  might  be 
made  use  of  for  watches.     They  pointed  out  that  the  pupil  of 


622  NATURAL  HISTORY. 

tlieir  eyes  went  on  constantly  growing  narrower  until  twelve 
o'clock,  when  they  became  like  a  fine  line,  as  thin  as  a  hair, 
drawn  perpendicularly  across  the  eye,  and  that  after  twelve  the 
dilation  recommenced.  When  we  had  attentively  examined  the 
eyes  of  all  the  cats  at  our  disposal  we  came  to  the  conclusion 
that  it  was  past  noon,  as  all  the  eyes  perfectly  agreed  upon  the 
point." 

©HE   flliBAiPI^OSS. 

Albatrosses,  says  the  New  Orleans  T imes- Democrat^  are  gen- 
erally seen  more  abundant  in  the  wake  of  ships  when  the  wind 
is  ahead.  This  may  be  caused  by  the  slow  rate  at  such  times  the 
vessel  is  progressing;  but  the  most  likely  explanation  is  that  the 
wings  of  the  bird  are  so  shaped  and  placed  that  they  act  more 
like  sails  than  wings,  and  are  calculated  to  sail  close  to  the  wind. 
Added  to  the  port  and  starboard  tacks  that  the  bird  can  make, 
as  well  as  the  ship  it  is  in  company  with,  the  albatross  has  the 
power  to  tack  obliquely  upward  and  downward  in  the  air, 
which  allows  a  double  zigzag  progression.  It  appears  very  sel- 
dom on  the  coasts  of  our  States.  Only  four  instances  are  shown 
by  reliable  authors,  and  only  two  specimens  were  known  to 
build  nests  and  breed  in  Louisiana.  The  eggs  are  of  a  beauti- 
fully clear  white,  with  conspicuous  silvery  reflections,  of  a  con- 
vex form,  and  about  as  large  as  those  of  the  ostrich.  They  are 
usually  three,  and  the  nest  is  built  with  calcareous  productions, 
chiefly 'corals;  and  as  coral-reefs  are  nowhere  else  found  but  on 
the  eastern  coast  of  oceans,  neither  on  the  Pacific  nor  the  west 
coast  of  Africa,  it  is  certain  that  it  will  not  bre^d  in  those  re- 
gions. The  nest  is  of  the  size  and  shape  of  the  largest  clothes- 
basket,  and  kept  close  or  secret,  in  being  entii'ely  submerged  in 
sea- water  between  impenetrable  reefs  or  hardened  marine-heaps 
secreted  by  polyps.  The  nest  on  the  outer  side  becomes  often 
covered  with  a  thick  salt-crust,  which  the  sharpest  knife  cannot 
remove.  The  bottom  of  the  nest  is  filled  up  with  large  white 
feathers,  bosom-down  of  some^  unknown  sea-birds — perhaps 
from  the  East  India  Archipelago — and  is  laid,  like  in  a  bed,  with 
pillows  and  quilts  of  soft,  white  feathers  and  down.  The  open- 
ing of  the  nest  is  provided  with  an  elastic  trap,  constructed  of 
some  glutinous  marine  m,atter,  to  open  or  close  suddenly,  when 
heavy   ocean-storms   occur,  or  other  dangers  approach.     The 


THE  CONDOR.  823 

albatrosses  follow  vessels,  and  are  sure  to  appear  soon  after  din- 
ner-time to  pick  up  the  scraps  thrown  overboard.  Their  fli^^ht 
is  very  rapid  and  graceful,  performed  apparently  without  effort, 
while  .their  very  narrow  and  extremely  long  wings  give  them  a 
peculiar  appearance.  They  often  alight  and  rest  themselves  on 
the  water  in  mid-ocean,  but  easily  overtake  steamers  going 
twelve  miles  an  hour. 

©HE   GJONDOI^. 

The  announcement  that  the  Chilian  Government  has  declared 

a  war  of  extermination  against  the  monarch  of  vultures — the 
condor — and  offers  five  dollars  for  every  condor  killed,  justifies 
some  remarks  as  to  the  possibility  of  the  Chilian  Government 
realizing  its  purpose.  The  condor  has,  indeed,  been  declared 
"an  enemy  to  the  republic,"  and  condor-hunting  has  become  a 
highly  lucrative  business;  but  when  one  takes  into  considera- 
tion the  astounding  powers  of  the  bird,  and  its  wonderful  hab- 
its, one  finds  it  hard  to  believe  that  the  Government  can  ever 
succeed  in  destroying  the  species  at  any  price.  Shooting  it  on 
the  wing  is  almost  out  of  the  question,  for  ft  sails  at  altitudes 
far  beyond  the  reach  of  the  human  eye,  and  roosts  on  peaks 
immeasurably  above  the  clouds.  It  has  been  seen  at  altitudes 
of  twenty  thousand  feet.  It  can  withstand  variations  of  tem- 
perature beyond  human  endurance,  and  hatches  its  young  above 
the  snow-line — nevertheless,  it  rests  quite  comfortably  on  the 
burning  sands  of  the  Southern  sea-coast.  It  haunts  the  whole 
western  slope  of  the  Andes — not  only  Chili,  but  Peru,  Bolivia, 
and  Patagonia.  With  the  vast  spread  of  its  wings — often  ex- 
ceeding twelve  feet — it  can  perform  prodigious  journeys  in  a 
few  hours.  Its  eye  is  miraculously  keen;  for  \yhen  no  bird  is 
visible  in  the  sky,  even  with  the  aid  of  a  powerful  glass,  if  a 
mule  or  other,  animal  in  a  convoy  fall  or  die,  the  condors  in- 
stantly drop  upon  it  like  lightning  from  heaven.  Latterly  the 
birds  have  so  increased  as  to  form  a  veritable  scourge — notwith- 
standing the  fact  that  the  female  lays  but  two  eggs  at  a  time, 
and  that  condor-hunting  has  been  a  regular  and  lucrative  call- 
ing for  more  than  a  century.  Traps  are  the  only  reliable  means 
of  catching  them;  but  the  day  will  certainly  come  when  traps 
sh^ll  be  of  no  avail  whatever.  Condors  have  already  learned 
to  fear  a  gun;  and  with  their  wonderful  sight  it  is  absolutely 


624  NATURAL  HISTORY. 

impossible  to  get  even  within  rifle-range  of  them.  Birds  soon 
learn  to  avoid  danger,  as  has  been  proved  since  the  erection  of 
telegraph  lines  in  the  United  States;  few  are  now  killed  by  fly- 
ing against  the  wires.  It  will  be  strange  if  the  condor  does  not 
learn  to  avoid  snares  instinctively.  When  the  birds  find  life  in 
Chili  or  in  Peru  unusually  difficult,  they  have  only  to  migrate 
further  south  or  north,  and  propagate  their  species  in  other  lati- 
tudes, until  they  become  so  numerous  as  to  migrate  again  to 
those  regions  which  outlawed  them.  Then  the  work  of  de- 
struction would  have  to  be  all  done  again.  All  things  consid- 
ered, it  seems  impossible  to  exterminate  such  a  race  of  vultures 
unless  means  of  destroying  their  eggs  can  be  devised;  but  no- 
body—  not  even  Mr.  Graham  —  would  undertake  to  scale  icy 
peaks  19,000  or  20,000  feet  high  for  such  a  purpose.  The  con- 
dor is  certainly  gifted  with  rare  powers  of  self-preservation; 
and  it  is  not  unlikely  his  huge  shadow  may  float  above  the 
corpse  of  the  last  South  American  in  that  lurid  twilight  pre- 
ceding the  world's  final  dissolution. 

•fl    "^ENGUINNEI^Y." 

In  each  nest  sits  one  young,  half-fledged  bird,  as  the  "jack- 
ass" penguin  lays  and  hatches  but  a  single  Qg^.  Many  of  the 
nests  have  old  birds  standing  beside  them,  each  occupied  in 
feeding  its  solitary  chick,  duckling,  gosling,  or  whatever  the 
penguin  offspring  may  be  jyoperly  called.  This  being  of  itself 
a  curious  spectacle,  the  disappointed  egg-hunters  stop  awhile  to 
witness  it;  for  they  are  still  outside  the  bounds  of  the  "pen- 
guinnery,"  and  the  birds  have  as  yet  taken  no  notice  of  them. 
By  each  nest  is  a  little  mound,  on  which  the  mother  stands 
perched,  from  time  to  time  projecting  her  head  outward  and 
upward,  at  the  same  time  giving  forth  a  queer,  chattering  noise, 
half  quack  and  half  bray,  with  the  air  of  a  stump-orator  ha- 
ranguing an  open-air  audience.  Meanwhile,  the  youngster 
stands  patiently  waiting  below,  evidently  with  a  foreknowledge 
of  what  is  to  come.  Then,  after  a  few  seconds  of  the  quack- 
ing and  braying,  the  mother-bird  suddenly  ducks  her  head,  with 
the  mandibles  of  her  beak  wide  agape,  between  which  the 
fledgling  thrusts  its  head,  almost  out  of  sight,  and  so  keeps  it 
for  more  than  a  minute.  Finally  withdrawing  it,  up  again  goes 
the  head  of  the  mother,  with  neck  craned  out,  and  oscillating 


BIRDS  CANNOT  SMELL.  625 

from  side  to  side  in  a  second  spell  of  speech-making.  These 
curious  actions  are  repeated  several  times,  the  entire  perform- 
ance lasting  for  a  period  of  nearly  a  quarter  of  an  hour.  When 
it  ends,  possibly  from  the  food-supply  having  become  exhausted, 
the  mother-bird  leaves  the  little  glutton  to  itself  and  scuttles  ofl' 
seaward,  to  replenish  her  throat-larder  with  a  fresh  stock  of 
mollusks. 

The  cow-bunting  of  New  England  never  builds  a  nest  The 
female  lays  her  eggs  in  the  nests  of  those  birds  whose  young 
feed,  like  h^v  own,  on  insects  and  worms,  taking  care  to  deposit 
but  one  egg  in  a  nest.  A  cow-bunting  deposited  an  egg  in  the 
nest  of  a  sparrow,  in  which  was  one  egg  of  the  latter.  On  the 
sparrow's  return  what  was  to  be  done?  She  could  not  get  out 
the  egg  which  belonged  to  her,  neither  did  she  wish  to  desert 
her  nest  so  nicely  prepared  for  her  own  young.  What  did  she 
do?  After  consultation  with  her  husband  they  fixed  on  their 
mode  of  procedure.  They  built  a  bridge  of  straw  and  hair 
directly  over  the  two  eggs,  making  a  second  story  in  the  home, 
thus  leaving  the  two  eggs  below  out  of  the  reach  of  the  warmth 
of  her  body.  In  the  upper  apartment  she  laid  four  eggs  and 
reared  her  four  children.  In  the  museum  at  Salem,  Mass.,  may 
be  seen  this  nest  with  two  eggs  imprisoned  below. 

Bii^DS  (sANNOit  Smell. 

A  Western  hunter  has  come  to  the  conclusion  that  birds  do 
not  possess  the  sense  of  smell.  His  attention  was  first  directed 
to  the  subject  by  noticing  that  wild  turkeys  failed  to  detect  his 
whereabouts  when  in  hiding,  though  he  was  sometimes  within 
three  feet  of  them.  Had  he  made  the  slightest  movement  they 
would  have  observed  it  at  once,  but  the  sense  of  smell  being 
absent  (as  he  contends),  they  were  unable  to  discover  him. 
While  deer-hunting  he  has  thrown  himself  down  wearied,  and 
quails  have  hopped  upon  him  as  if  he  were  a  log.  Prairie- 
hawks,  which  scour  fields  and  prairies  by  hundreds,  in  search 
of  prey,  have  often  come  within  a  few  feet  of  chickens,  hares, 
and  mice,  without  detecting  their  presence  by  smell.  Countless 
experiments  accordingly  led  him  to  the  conclusion  that  birds 
cannot  find  food  or  avoid  foes  by  the  sense  of  smell. 
40 


626  NATURAL  HISTORY. 

©HE    (9OLUGO. 


BY  C.  r.  HOLDEK, 


In  the  forests  of  the  islands  constituting  the  Indian  Archipel- 
ago is  found  a  curious  flying  animal  that  forms  the  connecting- 
link  between  the  lemur  and  the  bat.  The  natives  call  it  the 
colugo,  and  also  the  "flying-fox,"  but  it  is  more  like  a  flying- 
monkey,  as  the  lemurs  are  cousins  of  the  monkeys.  Like  the 
bats,  these  animals  sleep  in  the  day-time,  hanging  from  the 
limbs  and  branches  of  trees,  head  downward;  but^as  evening 
comes  on  they  sally  forth,  often  doing  gi-eat  harm  to  the  fruit 
on  the  neighboring  plantations.  In  some  parts  of  Java  they  are 
so  numerous  that  it  is  found  necessary  to  protect  the  fruit-trees 
with  huge  nets.  The  extent  of  their  flights  through  the  air  is 
something  astonishing.  They  sometimes  drop  to  the  ground 
and  hop  along  with  a  shuffling  kind  of  leap,  but  if  they  are 
alarmed,  they  spring  to  the  nearest  tree  and  in  a  moment  reach 
its  top  by  a  series  of  bounds.  Out  upon  the  branches  they 
dart,  and  with  a  rush  are  off'  into  space.  Sailing  through  the 
air  like  some  great  bird,  down  they  go  obliquely,  swift  as  an 
arrow,  a  hundred  and  fifty  feet  or  more,  rising  again  in  a  grace- 
ful curve  and  alighting  safely  on  a  distant  tree.  In  these  great 
leaps  they  carry  their  young,  which  cling  to  them,  or  sometimes 
follow  them  in  their  headlong  flight,  uttering  hoarse  and  pierc- 
ing cries.  The  colugos  live  almost  exclusively  on  fruit,  prefer- 
ring plantains  and  the  young  and  tender  leaves  of  the  cocoa- 
palm,  though  some  writers  aver  that  they  have  seen  them  dart 
into  the  air  and  actually  catch  birds.  The  flying-lemurs  are 
perfectly  harmless,  and  so  gentle  as  to  be  easily  tamed.  They 
have  lovely  dark  eyes  and  very  intelligent  and  knowing  faces. 

She  ©ayo. 

There  is  a  South  American  bird  called  the  pavo,  which  goes 
in  flocks.  If  a  hunter  by  good-luck  can  kill  one  of  a  flock 
while  all  are  perched  upon  a  tree,  the  rest  will  remain  until  all 
are  shot.  If,  however,  they  have  risen  to  fly  before  the  first 
falls,  they  do  not  wait  to  see  the  fate  of  their  friend,  but  con- 
tinue their  fligrht. 


MY  EA  VEN  J  A  CK.  627 

fl   ^BIP  (sI^OW. 

The  following  article  was  written  by  J.  W.  Rupass,  of  Men- 
dota,  Va.,  for  the  Christian  Advocate: 

Cajitured  when  very  small,  it  has  become  perfectly  tame,  and 
is  allowed  to  hop  about  the  premises  at  will.  It  knows  its 
name  (Ben),  and  will  respond  to  a  call  by  perching  it<elf  upon 
one's  knee  or  shoulder  as  designated.  If  told  to  talk,  it  makes 
a  very  peculiar  croaking  noise,  accompanied  by  bows  and  courte- 
sies. If  told  to  leave  the  room  it  obeys  very  promptly.  Like 
some  boys,  it  can  be  broken  from  a  bad  habit  by  whipping.  It 
was  thus  weaned  from  killing  young  chickens.  It  has  learned 
to  imitate  jierfectly  the  cackling  of  a  hen,  and  also  tries  to  crow, 
but  is  not  yet  very  skillful  in  this  feat.  \t  makes  the  effort  each 
morning  when  the  roosters  do.  It  is  greatly  attached  to  its 
master,  and  announces  his  coming  by  a  very  peculiar  croak — in 
fact,  it  announces  the  approach  of  any  one  by  a  cry  so  marked 
that  the  dogs  upon  hearing  it  run  and  bark.  Nothing  escapes 
its  notice.  It  is  rarely  still,  and  seems  to  delight  in  abusing  any 
thing  that  it  is  not  too  much  afraid  of  It  eats  almost  any  thing, 
but  is  especially  fond  of  butter,  chicken,  and  craw-fishes. 
When  given  a  hard  piece  of  bread,  it  carries  it  to  the  pump  and 
soaks  it  until  it  becomes  soft.  These  are  only  a  few  of  its 
freaks.  I  cannot  do  justice  to  "Ben"  on  account  of  our  brief 
acquaintance.  I  have  heard  that  crows  can  be  taught  to  talk, 
and  my  acquaintance  with  "Ben"  has  almost  prepared  me  to 
believe  it. 

CQY    I^AYEN   ^AGI^. 

Some  years  ago  I  was  walking  along  a  retired  street,  when, 
hopping  at  some  distance  before  me,  I  saw  a  raven  which  had 
evidently  strayed  from  its  owner.  I  ventured,  though  with 
some  misgivings,  to  stretch  out  my  hand  to  him.  Immediately, 
with  a  hoarse  croak,  he  jumped  on  my  wrist  and  turned  his  head  . 
sideways  to  get  a  good  look  at  me.  Having  satisfied  himself 
as  to  my  respectability,  he  settled  himself  on  my  wrist,  mur- 
muring his  pleasure  in  a  series  of  jerking  sounds. 

The  next  day  I  took  him  out  in  the  garden  to  give  him  a 
walk.  As  he  marched  solemnly  along  before  me,  evidently 
meditating  upon  the  changes  of  life,  a  large  tabby-cat,  a  great 
pet  of  mine,  sprang  suddenly  upon  him.     Being  a  town-bred 


628  NATURAL  HISTORY. 

cat  she  was  under  the  mistake  that  he  would  be  as  easily  dis- 
posed of  as  a  sparrow.  What  was  her  horror  and  dismay 
when,  adroitly  thrusting  his  beak  into  her  open  mouth,  Jack 
seized  her  by  the  tongue.  Poor  pussy  ran  along  the  path  strug- 
gling to  get  free,  while  he  hopped  beside  her,  flapping  his 
wings  exultingly  until  I  came  to  the  rescue.  Not  pitying  Mrs. 
Grimalkin  much  for  the  fright  she  had  got,  I  hoped  it  would  be 
a  warning  to  her  not  to  interfere  with  birds  in  future— she  hav- 
ing already,  in  her  love  for  dainties,  demolished  several  of  my 
pet  canaries. 

From  this  time  Jack  generally  paid  her  a  visit  once  a  day, 
much  to  her  dislike,  especially  as  she  had  a  family  of  young  kit- 
tens. Jack  would  watch  his  opportunity,  and,  when  she  least 
expected  it,  his  roguish  eyes  and  shining  head  would  suddenly 
appear  before  her  startled  gaze. 

With  a  spring  he  would  quickly  poise  himself  on  the  edge 
of  the  basket,  and  after  apparently  pausing  to  make  a  selection,' 
with  a  sudden  dive  he  would  snatch  up  a  kitten,  holding  it  sus- 
pended for  a  moment,  and  then  let  it  fall  back  again  into  its  place, 
enjoying  with  mischievous  delight  the  agony  of  the  mother  while 
he  had  possession  of  her  offspring. 

fl  Running  I^awi^. 

Among  our  hens  we  had  a  very  young  mother,  who  for  some 
time  protected  all  her  chickens  successfully  from  a  hawk  that 
troubled  lier. 

Hunger  sharpened  his  wits,  I  suppose,  for  one  day  having 
pounced  down  as  usual,  and  failing  to  get  a  chick,  he  flew  along 
on  the  ground  quite  near  to  the  hen.  Angry  at  the  boldness  of 
her  enemy,  the  hen  rushed  forward  to  punish  him,  when  he  sud- 
denly wheeled,  caught  up  a  chicken,  and  was  off"  with  it  before 
the  mother  could  get  back  to  her  place. 

But  one  lesson  of  this  kind  was  enough  for  Mrs.  Biddy.  The 
hawk  tried  his  little  game  again  and  again  afterward,  but  could 
.never  tempt  her  to  leave  her  brood  unsheltered  while  he  was 
anywhere  about, 

A  writer  on  the  habits  of  birds  says:  "One  feat  sometimes 
ascribed  to  man  is,  in  the  case  of  birds,  a  literal  fact — they  can 
•«leep  with  one  eye  open." 


AN  OWL  EIGHT Y.TlinKE  YEARS  OLD.        620 

fi  UALIANIP   P{00SIPBI^. 

Most  animals  lose  the  "heroic"  qualities— their  speed,  vigi- 
lance, toughness,  warlike  spirit  which  their  species  possess  in  a 
wild  state — when  they  are  domesticated.  This  is  because  they 
do  not  need  them  when  home-fed  and  "civilized."  We  see 
this  especially  in  the  case  of  domestic  fowls,  which  rarely  retain 
any  considerable  power  of  flight;  and  accordingly  we  are  sur- 
prised at  an  exceptional  case  like  the  following,  reported  by  a 
correspondent  of  a  Wisconsin  paper.  It  suggests  that  game- 
cocks— the  kind  of  fowl  least  weakened  and  degenerated  by 
taming — can  do  good  service  on  the  farm,  instead  of  being  bred 
for  the  wicked  purpose  of  fighting  each  other  for  human  sport 
and  gain. 

There  was  a  large  hawk  that  made  it  his  business  to  come  and 
take  oft'  one  of  my  small  chickens  each  day.  On  hearing  my 
chickens  give  the  well-known  alarm  a  few  days  ago,  I  ran  out, 
only  to  see  the  hawk  fly  up  with  a  chick  in  his  claws,  closely 
pursued  by  my  game  rooster.  The  hawk  lit  on  a  pine-tree. 
The  moment  he  lit  in  the  tree  the  rooster,  which  had  flown  after 
him,  fell  upon  the  robber,  tearing  out  and  making  the  feathers 
fly  at  such  a  rate  that  I  could  see  neither  hawk  nor  chicken. 

A  moment  later  the  hawk  fell  to  the  ground  dead.  When 
chanticleer's  triumphant  notes  were  heard,  he  was  crowing  in 
the  top  of  the  pine-tree,  from  which  he  flew  to  the  ground, 
flapped  his  wings,  crowed  again,  and  walked  oft'  with  an  air  of 
perfect  satisfaction. 

fiN   Owl   GlGHiTY-JPHI^EB  yEAI^S  OLD. 

An  aged  owl,  the  p6t  of  a  household  on  Middle  street,  Ports- 
mouth, passed  away  yesterday,  says  an  exchange,  and  was 
buried  at  night  with  distinguished  honors,  slow  music,  and  the 
recitation  of  appropriate  lines  fi'om  the  "Burial  of  Sir  John 
Moore."  Above  the  grave  of  the  pet  bird  (which,  by  the  way, 
was  dubbed  William)  is  the  following  inscription:  "Sacred  to 
the  memory  of  William  Owl,  born  February  22,  1800;  died 
August  22,  1883."  The  owl  came  from  Newbern,  N.  C,  and 
it  is  said  was  actually  eighty-three  years  old,  having  been 
handed  down  from  family  to  family  in  Newbern,  and  his  his- 
tory being  accurately  preserved. 


630  NATURAL  HISTORY. 

©H-B  05ILD  Goose. 

On  the  approach  of  spring  we  are  accustomed  to  see  flocks 
of  these  birds,  high  in  the  air,  arranged  in  a  straight  hne,  or  in 
two  hnes  approximating  to  a  point.  In  both  cases  they  are  led 
by  an  old  gander,  who  every  now  and  then  pipes  forth  his  well- 
known  "honk,"  as  if  to  ask  how  they  all  come  on;  and  the 
"  honk,"  of  all's  well  is  returned  by  some  of  the  party.  They 
continue  their  flight  day  and  night,  usually  in  a  straight  line. 

It  is  generally  supposed  that  these  flocks  of  wild  geese  are 
going  to  the  northern  lakes.  But  the  people  thei-e  are  as  ig- 
norant as  we  are  of  their  destination.  In  the  region  of  the 
lakes  they  are  still  seen,  pursuing  their  noi'thern  journey  with 
undeviating  instinct  and  unwearied  wing. 

They  have  been  seen  as  far  north  as  eighty  degrees  of  lati- 
tude, and  it  is  probable  that  beyond  the  arctic  circle,  and  per- 
haps under  the  very  pole,  amid  the  desolation  of  those  northern 
regions,  shut  out  from  the  eye  of  man  by  everlasting  barriers 
of  ice,  they  find  sufficient  food,  and  a  secure  and  pleasant  re- 
treat. 

On  their  return,  vast  numbers  of  the  geese  are  killed  by  the 
sportsmen  in  the  northern,  western,  and  sputhern  waters.  The 
wounded  ones  are  often  tamed,  and  readily  pair  with  the  com- 
mon gray  g'oose. 

Canary  birds  are  mostly  raised  in  the  Hartz  Mountains  of 
Germany  by  people  who  are  so  poor  that  the  two  New  York 
firms  which  have  a  monopoly  of  importing  them  are  compelled 
to  advance  money  to  buy  food  for  the  young.  There  are  about 
150,000  canaries  brought  to  America  during  the  season,  from 
September  to  March,  and  a  great  many  die  on  the  way.  One 
large  dealer  says  that  the  cost  of  feeding  the  pets  in  this  country 
is  fully  $5,000,000  a  year. 

A  Houston  doctor  had  a  mocking-bird  which  lived  in  the 
garden.  Whenever  he  returned  home  the  bird  would  fly  to  a 
tree  in  front  of  the  door-step,  and  sing  for  hours.  It  appeared 
to  be  in  an  ecstasy  of  delight  whenever  the  doctor  was  at  home. 
The  doctor  died  of  yellow  fever,  and  after  the  funeral  the  family 
opened  the  doctor's  room,  and  faund  the  mocking-bird  lying  at 
the  head  of  the  bed  dead. 


THE  ROBIN.  681 

©HE   P{OBIN. 

My  old  Welch  neipjlibor  over  the  way 

Crept  slowly  out  in  the  sun  of  spring. 
Pushed  from  her  cars  the  locks  of  gray, 

And  listened  to  hear  the  robin  sing. 

Her  grandson,  playing  at  marbles,  stopped, 

And — cruel  in  sport,  as  boys  will  be — 
Tossed  a  stone  at  the  bird,  who  hopped 

From  bougJi  to  bough  in  the  apple-tree. 

"Nay!"  said  the  grandmother;  "have  you  not  heard, 
My  poor,  bad  boy!  of  the  fiery  pit. 
And  how,  drop  by  drop,  this  merciful  bird 
Carries  the  water  that  quenches  it? 

"He  brings  cool  dew  in  his  little  bill, 
And  lets  it  fall  on  the  souls  of  sin: 
You  can  see  the  mark  on  his  red  breast  still 
Of  fires  that  scorch  as  he  drops  it  in. 

"  My  poor  bron  rhuddyn !  my  breast-burned  bird, 
Singing  so  sweetly  from  limb  to  limb. 
Very  dear  to  the  heart  of  our  Lord 
Is  he  who  pities  the  lost  like  Him!" 

"Amen!"  I  said  to  the  beautiful  myth; 
"Sing,  bird  of  God,  in  my  heart  as  well: 
Each  good  thought  is  a  drop  wherewith 
To  cool  and  lessen  the  fires  of  hell. 

"Prayers  of  love  like  rain-drops  fall, 
Tears  of  i^ity  are  cooling  dew. 
And  dear  to  the  heart  of  our  Lord  are  all 
Who  suffer  like  Him  in  the  good  they  do!" 

An  affecting  incident  occurred  a  few  years  ago.  A  shop- 
keeper was  aroused  out  of  his  sleep  in  the  middle  of  the  night 
by  his  parrot  calling  out  loudly,  "Master!  master!"  The  strong 
smell  of  fire  caused  the  startled  shop-keeper  to  jump  quickly 
out  of  bed.  He  found  that  the  house  was  in  flames.  Engine 
and  firemen  were  soon  on  the  spot.  The  shop-keeper  and  his 
family  happily  escaped,  but  sad  to  tell,  Polly  was  burned  to  death. 


632  NATURAL  HISTORY. 

BlI^DS    FJlDING    ON   (SI^ANBS. 

Speaking  of  the  great  numbers  of  small  bii-ds  which  inhabit 
Western  Asia,  as  compared  with  Europe  and  North  America, 
Dr.  Van  Lennep  explains  the  circumstance  by  the  fact  that 
"  even  those  of  feeblest  wing  have  an  easy  road  fi*om  Palestine, 
Syria,  and  Mesopotamia,  by  the  Isthmus  of  Suez,  and  over  the 
narrow  Red  Sea,  to  their  winter  quarters  in  tropical  Africa, 
while  nature  has  provided  them  extraordinary  means  of  con- 
veyance from  Asia  Minor  southward  across  the  Mediterranean. 
The  swallow,  and  many  other  birds  of  similar  powers  of  flight, 
are  unable  to  cross  over  the  entire  breadth  of  the  Mediterranean 
without  alighting,  and  would  require  many  days,  and  even 
weeks,  to  perform  the  trip  through  Syria  and  Palestine.  Sucli 
are  the  ortolans,  ptarmigans,  bee-eaters,  wren,  titmouse,  smaller 
thrushes,  and  finches,  with  a  hundi'ed  other  diminutive  speci- 
mens of  the  feathered  tribes,  as  the  severity  of  the  winter 
would  be  fatal  to  them,  not  only  in  Asia  Minor,  but  even  in 
Syria  and  Palestine.  He  v^^ho  is  ever  mindful  of  the  smallest 
of  his  creatures  has  provided  them  with  means  of  transporta- 
tion to  a  more  genial  climate.  Many  of  them,  indeed,  find  their 
way  downward  from  Palestine  into  Arabia  and  Egypt,  but  this 
would  be  diflicult,  if  not  impossible,  where  lofty  mountains  and 
broad  seas  intervene,  and  to  meet  such  cases  the  crane  has  been 
provided. 

Most  of  these  birds  are  migratory.  In  the  autumn  flocks 
may  be  seen  coming  from  the  north  with  the  first  cold  blast 
from  that  quarter,  flying  low,  and  uttering  a  peculiar  cry  as  if 
of  alarm,  as  they  circle  over  the  cultivated  plains.  Little  birds 
of  every  species  may  then  be  seen  flying  up  to  them,  while  the 
twittering  songs  of  those  already  comfortably  settled  upon 
their  backs  may  be  distinctly  heard.  On  their  return  in  sjiring 
they  fly  high,  apparently  considering  that  their  little  passengers 
can  easily  find  their  way  down  to  earth. 

As  Dr.  Van  Lennep  has  "  spent  almost  a  lifetime  in  the  East," 
I  conclude  he  has  been  an  eye-witness  of  the  above  facts,  and 
therefore  his  testimony  is  conclusive. 

The  largest  English  bird  is  the  capercailzie,  or  great  cock  of 
the  woods.  It  was  at  one  time  extinct,  but  was  re-introduced 
from  Sweden  by  the  Marquis  of  Breadalbane. 


CRABS. 


BY  SARAH  OOOPEB. 


Crabs  are  curious  creatures.  At  the  first  glance  we  can 
scarcely  tell  which  is  the  head.  Notice  the  position  of  the  eyes, 
and  that  will  settle  the  question.  Walking,  as  they  do,  for- 
ward, backward,  and  even  sideways  with  equal  case,  it  seems 
as  if  they  too  might  be  slightly  puzzled  about  their  formation, 
and  so,  not  stopping  to  decide  which  part  is  intended  to  go  fore- 
most, they  dart  off  on  a  venture,  and  in  the  oddest  manner  pos- 
sible. 

The  bodies  of  higher  animals  contain  three  principal  cavities 
— the  head,  thorax,  and  abdomen.  In  crabs,  on  the  contrary, 
the  head  and  thorax  are  so  closely  united  that  we  cannot  dis- 
tinguish them,  and  they  are  covered  by  the  same  shell.  The 
proper  name  for  a  head  and  thorax  thus  united  is  "cephalo- 
thorax." 

A  crab,  consequently,  has  two  principal  parts — the  cephalo- 
thorax  and  the  abdomen — each  containing  a  number  of  parts 
of  its  own.  To  the  cephalo-thorax  are  attached  five  pairs  of 
jointed  legs.  The  front  pair  are  much  larger  than  the  others, 
and  form  the  claws.  The  abdomen  consists  of  six  parts,  but  it 
is  small  and  inconspicuous,  being  folded  under  the  cephalo- 
thorax. 

The  compound  eyes  of  crabs  are  on  long  stalks,  and  they 
may  be  turned  in  different  directions,  or  folded  back  into  little 
grooves  in  the  shell. 

Crabs  breathe  by  gills  and  by  branchia.  Gills  ar^  leaf-like 
plates  so  situated  as  to  be  readily  bathed  with  water.  They 
contain  a  great  many  blood-vessels,  and  the  oxygen  in  the  water, 
finding  its  way  through  their  delicate  walls,  mixes  with  the 
blood  to  purify  it.  The  crab's  heart  consists  of  a  single  con- 
tractile sac. 

Crabs  are  often  spoken  of  as  crustaceans.  The  name,  I  think, 
will  at  once  suggest  to  you  animals  having  a  hard  crust.  As 
this  crust  contains  a  number  of  pieces  exactly  fitted  to  each 
other,  it  has  been  compared  to  the  armor  worn  by  soldiers  in 
olden  times.  The  manner  in  which  it  is  shed  during  the  growth 
of  the  crab  is  curious  and  interesting.     This  hard  shell  never 


634  NATURAL  HISTORY. 

increases  in  size;  therefore  as  the  crab  grows  its  shell  becomes 
too  small,  and  it  is  cast  off,  looking  like  the  perfect  animal,  with 
eyes  and  legs  attached.  When  the  proper  time  for  this  change 
arrives,  the  body  shrinks  away  from  the  shell,  separating  from 
it  at  all  points,  and  the  animal  works  its  way  out.  The  ex- 
hausted creature  now  remains  quietly  in  some  secluded  place, 
increasing  rapidly  in  size,  until  the  soft  skin  again  hardens  into 
a  new  shell. 

This  is  a  painful  and  perilous  experience  for  the  poor  crabs. 
Occui'ring  as  it  does  several  times  in  the  summer,  their  weak 
and  unprotected  bodies  fall  an  easy  prey  to  their  enemies,  and 
they  ai'e  devoured  even  by  other  crabs  which  happen  to  be  in 
better  plight.  Now  it  is  that  they  are  known  as  "soft-shelled" 
crabs. 

Crustaceans,  when  fully  coated  with  mail,  are  strong  and  de- 
structive, fighting  among  themselves  as  well  as  with  other  ani- 
mals. They  eat  any  small  creatures  that  come  in  their  way, 
whether  living  or  dead.  On  the  other  hand,  they  themselves 
are  destroyed  by  larger  animals,  and  crustaceans  form  a  large 
part  of  the  food  of  star-fish,  sea-urchins,  mollusks,  and  many 
kinds  of  fish  and  birds;  conseqiiently  great  quantities  of  them 
are  killed  before  i-eaching  their  full  size.  To  protect  the  race 
from  destruction  by  this  loss  of  life,  all  crustaceans  produce  im- 
mense quantities  of  eggs. 

Young  crabs  are  so  unlike  the  full-growrij^ones  that  natural- 
ists formerly  thought  they  belonged  to  a  different  class  of  ani- 
mals. As  soon  as  they  are  born  they  rise  to  the  surface  of  the 
water,  and  swim  about  freely.  After  passing  through  several 
changes  the  body  becomes  large  and  heavy  toward  the  head, 
and  the  young  crabs,  losing  the  power  of  swimming,  sink  to 
the  bottom,  where  they  hide  for  awhile.  As  they  gain  in  size 
and  strength,  and  are  ready  to  begin  their  new  manner  of  liv- 
ing, they  creep  toward  the  shore,  and  most  of  them  pass  the 
rest  of  their  days  in  shallow  water  among  the  sea-weed.  In 
the  tropics  some  species  live  in  the  fresh-water  of  brooks  and 
rivers.  Others  live  in  the  shades  of  damp  forests;  still,  when 
breeding-time  arrives,  they  visit  the  sea-shore  to  deposit  their 

eggs. 

The  hermit-crab  is  always  an  object  of  interest.  Unlike 
other  crustaceans,  it  has  no  shell  to  protect  the  soft  body,  and, a 


CRABS.  635 

tempting  morsel  is  thus  exposed.  The  hermit,  conscious  of  it» 
weak  point,  seeks  shelter  by  taking  possession  of  some  spiral 
shell  in  which  to  place  its  soft  abdomen.  The  hard  claws  and 
the  first  two  pairs  of  feet  generally  hang  out  over  the  edge  of 
the  shell,  which  henceforth  moves  about  upon  the  crab's  back 
as  if  the  two  belonged  together.  The  shorter  hind-feet  arc 
roughened,  enabling  the  crab  to  hold  on  the  inside  of  the  shell, 
and  it  clings  so  tightly  that  it  will  sometimes  allow  itself  to  be 
torn  in  pieces  rather  than  quit  its  hold. 

As  the  hermit  grows  it  needs  to  hunt  up  a  larger  home,  and 
it  may  be  seen  creeping  along  the  shore,  examining  and  turning 
over  shells  to  select  one,  often  trying  on  several  before  it  is 
suited — much  as  a  boy  might  try  on  several  pairs  of  boots  be- 
fore he  is  fitted  exactly.  Should  a  hermit  fancy  the  shell  of 
some  living  snail,  it  would  not  hesitate,  I  am  sorry  to  say,  to 
kill  and  eat  the  owner,  and  then  coolly  take  possession  of  the 
shell.  Two  hermits  are  sometimes  found  fighting  for  the  same 
shell. 

Fiddler-crabs  have  one  claw  much  larger  than  the  other,  and 
as  they  walk  sideways  they  hold  up  the  large  claw  in  a  threat- 
ening manner.  They  dig  holes  in  the  mud  to  live  in,  and  they 
enter  these  homes  with  extreme  caution.  Running  quickly  to 
the  entrance,  they  pause  awhile,  turn  their  stalked  eyes  in  every 
direction,  and  then  dart  suddenly  in.  They  are  not  easily 
caught,  for  they  dart  into  their  holes  quickly  when  alarmed. 

The  fiddler-crab  is  a  striking  illustration  of  the  effect  of  use 
upon  any  one  organ.'  The  large  claw  so  peculiar  to  this  group 
belongs  only  to  the  males,  who  are  great  fighters.  They  use 
the  large  claw  in  their  combats,  which  fact  accounts  for  its  in- 
creased size,  and  also  for  the  absence  of  a  large  claw  in  the 
more  peaceable  females. 

Many  of  you  have  seen  th&  little  round  crabs  that  live  in 
oyster-shells.  These  pea-crabs,  or  oyster-crabs,  as  they  arc 
called,  are  considered  a  great  delicacy,  and  they  are  sometimes 
collected  and  sold  by  the  dozen.  Having  no  hard  covering, 
they  always  take  up  their  abode  within  the  shell  of  the  oyster, 
or  some  other  bivalve.  They  are  not  prisoners  within  the  shell, 
as  they  venture  out  Into  the  water  sometimes,  and  return  again 
when  they  wish  to. 

They  are  said  not  to  annoy  the  oyster  in  the  least,  or  to  de- 


636  NATURAL  HISTORY. 

prive  it  of  any  of  its  food,  since  they  eat  certain  small  animals 
which  float  into  the  shell,  but  which  the  oyster  never  feeds  upon. 
Strange  to  say,  it  is  only  the  female  that  shuts  herself  up  with- 
in an  oyster-shell.  The  male  is  much  smaller,  and  frolics  about 
on  the  surface  of  the  sea. 

(sI^AW-PISH. 

In  some  parts  of  Mississippi  the  farmers  are  greatly  troubled 
by  the  depredations  of  craw-fish.  They  eat  up  the  young  cot- 
ton and  corn,  or  whatever  may  be  planted  on  the  ground  where 
they  dig  their  wells.  In  our  prairie  country  the  craw-fish  dig 
down  to  the  rock  and  burrow  out  a  basin  in  the  rotten  limestone, 
in  which  they  live  and  breed,  sometimes  a  peck  or  more  of  these 
fish  being  found  in  one  basin.  There  is  generally  one  hole 
straight  down  to  the  basin,  and  perhaps  as  many  as  fifty  holes 
at  various  angles  on  all  sides,  to  the  surface  of  the  ground. 
The  craw-fish  come  out  at  night  and  cut  down  the  young  cot- 
ton and  corn,  and  carry  the  plants  down  to  their  cellars,  where 
they  feed  upon  them  during  the  day.  Thousands  of  them  are 
killed  at  night,  the  hands  on  the  farms  going  out  with  torches 
to  catch  them.  When  I  was  a_  boy  my  mother  had  a  small 
piece  of  land  where  nothing  could  be  grown  on  account  of  the 
craw-fish.  I  made  up  a  large  lot  of  bread-pills  mixed  with  ar- 
senic, and  dropped  them  into  the  craw-fish  holes  for  two  seasons, 
and  we  had  no  further  trouble  with  these  pests.  In  this  way 
I  believe  these  fish  could  be  exterminated  on  our  farms.  The 
driest  time  in  the  summer  season  the  craw-fish  holes  have  water 
in  them,  though  it  is  in  some  cases  from  ten  to  twenty  feet  be- 
low the  surface.  The  craw-fish  is  a  shai-p  little  animal,  and 
knows  how  to  take  cai^e  of  himself.  His  long  claws  and  sharp 
nippers  give  him  a  formidable  appearance,  though  he  is  not  at 
all  dangerous. 

fl    SHAI^I^   FIGHIP   ON    IlAND. 

A  fearful  shark  adventure  is  reported  from  Passade,  a  small 
fishing  village  between  Nice  and  Villafranca.  Two  fishermen 
returned  late  in  the  evening  with  a  shark  measuring  ten  feet  in 
length  in  tow.  The  monster  had  been  harpooned  and  lost  con- 
siderable blood,  which  fact  enabled  them  to  draw  it  on  shore 
easily  and  secure  it  in  their  hut,  intending  to  take  it  for  exhibition 


ALLIGATOR  HUNTING.  «37 

to  Nice  the  next  day.  About  two  in  the  morning  a  horrible 
noise  arose  from  the  hut,  the  unearthly  howling  of  a  dog  and 
screeches  of  children  predominating.  The  two  fishermen  hur- 
riedly lit  their  lamps  and  h'astened  to  the  spot,  where  a  terrible 
scene  met  their  gaze.  The  monster,  whose  wounds  were  mor- 
tal, had  so  far  recovered  that  he  was  seen  flapping  about,  snap- 
ping at  every  thing  within  reach.  The  dog,  which  had  been 
left  sleeping  by  the  bed  of  the  two  children,  who,  with  their 
mother,  occupied  the  hut,  had  been  nearly  bitten  in  two.  The 
mother  herself,  in  trying  to  shield  her  infants,  had  had  her  leg 
cut  off  below  the  knee.  One  of  the  men  seized  a  harpoon  and 
managed  to  strike  the  brute  in  the  eye,  but,  in  the  terrific  bound 
it  gave,  the  lamps  were  knocked  over  and  extinguished,  and  a 
struggle  of  unprecedented  horror  took  place  in  the  dark.  The 
fishermen  suddenly  made  for  the  door,  but  were  unable  to  open 
it.  In  the  meantime  a  neighboring  fisherman  had  been  drawn 
to  the  spot  by  hearing  the  fearful  din.  With  his  help  the  two 
children  were  first  reached  through  a  small  window  by  the 
united  eflforts  of  the  men.  The  shark  was  held  in  respect  by 
means  of  the  table,  the  legs  of  which  were  already  bitten 
through  as  so  much  straw,  and  directly  the  door  was  opened  it 
flapped  its  way  outside  and  sought  the  sea.  It  was  mastered  in 
the  end,  however,  through  a  harpoon  thrust  in  the  remaining 
eye.  Dr.  Gabrielli  was  immediately  sent  for,  and  amputated  the 
stump  from  the  mother's  leg.  It  is  expected  she  will  recover. 
The  children  luckily  escajDed  unhurt. 

flLLIGATOI^   r^UNiPING. 

Alligator  hunting  has  now  become  one  of  the  regular  occu- 
pations of  many  of  the  professional  sportsmen  of  the  South. 
About  fifteen  years  ago  the  attempt  was  made  to  introduce  alli- 
gator-skin leather  into  the  Northern  markets,  but  native  tanners 
were  unskilled,  and  it  was  not  until  the  Eastern  tanneries  took  the 
plan  in  hand  that  it  was  made  successful.  Alligators  are  taken 
in  larger  numbers  by  craft  than  by  skillful  shooting.  They  are 
fished  for,  and  the  following  graphic  description  of  the  method 
is  given:  Fresh  pork  is  the  usual  bait,  of  which  the  reptiles  are 
fonder  even  than  of  the  traditional  dog  or  colored  baby.  Alli- 
gator hunters,  who  are  paid  according  to  the  number  and  size 
of   their  game,   go  to  some  remote  bayou  or  lagoon  in   the 


638  NA  T  URAL  HIS  TOR  Y. 

swamps,  or  to  a  floating  island  in  the  Everglades  of  Eastern 
Florida,  equipped  with  boat-loads  of  bait  and  fishing-tackle, 
and  having  planted  their  lines  and  firmly  secured  them  to  iron 
pins  driven  deeply  into  the  sandy  soil  during  the  sultry  after- 
noon, when  the  alligators  are  sleeping  in  the  slime,  they  quietly 
retire  and  wait  until  the  moon  rises  or  day  breaks,  when  they 
generally  find  plenty  to  do.  On  their  return  they  witness  a 
lively  scene  if  any  'gators  have  been  hooked.  It  is  a  peculiar- 
ity of  the  reptiles  to  make  unceasing  efforts  to  escape  when 
they  find  themselves  fast,  and  they  perform  aquatic  antics  that 
would  put  a  sea-lion  to  the  blush,  churning  the  water  with 
their  powerful  tails,  prancing  and  leaping,  sometimes  entirely 
out  of  the  water,  turning  over  and  over,  diving  and  tugging 
and  snapping  their  horrid  jaws  upon  the  chains  which  guard 
the  first  few  feet  of  the  lines.  The  monster  utters  frightful  bel- 
lowings  all  the  while,  until  the  air  fairly  trembles  with  the 
sound.  A  strong  and  sickening  odor  of  musk  is  emitted  by 
them  in  their  anger,  and  it  requires  a  strong  stomach  and  stout 
nerves  to  withstand  subsequent  proceedings.  Approaching  the 
lines,  the  men  haul  the  alligators  inshore  by  main  strength,  and 
pull  them  out  on  dry  ground,  where  an  executioner,  armed  with 
a  stout  flail  and  a  keen  knife  fastened  at-  the  end  of  a  pole, 
stands  ready  to  make  an  end  of  the  struggle.  A  couple  of  hard 
thwacks  with  the  flail  across  the  switching  tail  of  the  victim, 
and  a  deep  stab  in  the  tender  throat,  soon  ends  his  life.  Tliis 
persistent  hunting  is,  of  course,  thinning  out  the  i^anks  of  the 
alligators,  but  no  one  seems  to  i^egret  their  departure.  The  skins 
are  now  worth  about  $io  to. the  hunters,  but  the  price  will 
doubtless  advance  as  the  mighty  saurian  nears  extinction. 

pN  Glegti^ig  Gel  Six  Feet  Ijong. 

A  very  interesting  addition  has  recently  been  made,  says  the 
London  Daily  News,  to  the  Zoological  Gardens  in  the  shape  of 
an  electric  eel — Gymnotus  electricus.  It  is  said  to  be  nearly  six 
feet  in  length,  and  must  thei'efore  be  of  the  very  largest  speci- 
mens of  its  kind.  Hmnboldt,  when  in  the  native  home  of  this 
fish  in  and  about  the  Rio  Colorado,  measured  some  that  were 
five  feet  five  inches  in  length;  but  though  the  Indians  said  they 
were  larger,  he  himself  saw  none.     The  captive  in  Regent's 


A  FROG  IN  ICE.  639 

Park  is  no  doubt,  therefore,  a  very  big  specimen,  and  there  can 
be  little  doubt  of  its  power.  Humboldt  thought  that  the  In- 
dians of  the  locality  referred  to  had  exaggerated  ideas  on  this 
subject;  but  they,  no  doubt,  had  had  practical  experience,  while 
the  illustrious  traveler  seems  to  have  prudently  refrained  from 
testing  the  matter,  except  in  the  case  of  an  eel  in  a  somewhat 
exhausted  condition.  He  admits  that  it  would  be  temerity  to 
expose  one's  self  to  the  first  shocks  of  a  large  and  strongly- 
irritated  gymnotus,  and  though  he  does  not  mention  any  case 
within  his  knowledge  of  any  human  life  being  lost  by  a  shock 
from  the  fish,  the  mode  of  catching  them  adopted  by  the  In- 
dians seems  to  render  it  by  no  means  incredible  that,  as  some 
have  asserted,  the  fish  is  capable  of  killing  a  man.  The  Indians, 
it  seems,  are  accustomed,  when  they  want  to  catch  gymnoti,  to 
scour  the  country  round  for  wild  horses  and  mules,  which  they 
drive  into  the  ponds  where  the  fish  are  known  to  be,  and  so 
violent  are  the  discharges  of  the  pent-up  lightnings  t9  which 
these  animals  are  exposed,  that,  though  they  are  not  actually 
killed  by  electricity,  they  are  so  stunned  and  disabled  that 
usually  several  of  them  are  drowned.  Humboldt  once  impru- 
dently put  both  his  feet  on  an  electric  eel  just  taken  out  of  the 
water,  and,  though  he  does  not  speak  of  it  as  a  large  one,  he 
says  he  never  experienced  from  a  lai^ge  Leyden  jar  a  more 
dreadful  discharge  than  he  felt  on  that  occasion.  He  was  af- 
fected all  day  with  a  violent  pain  in  every  joint  of  his  body. 

^   Fl^OG   IN    IGE. 

A  huge  chunk  of  ice  was  left  in  front  of  John  Sipping's  res- 
idence in  Louisville.  A  servant  split  the  piece  open,  and  just 
in, the  center  was  a  large  frog.  The  animal  was  a  large,  black 
one  of  the  species  known  as  the  Michigan  frog,  and  weighed 
two  pounds  or  over.  The  man  who  delivered  the  ice  said  that 
it  was  part  of  a  lot  that  had  been  stored  away  by  the  Talmage 
Company  in  their  ice-house  for  over  four  years,  so  that  the  frog 
had  been  a  prisoner  in  his  cool  dungeon  for  all  that  time.  His 
frogship  was  quite  lively  when  relieved  from  his  prison,  and 
hopped  around  as  vigorously  as  any  of  his  tribe.  It  is  now 
being  cared  for  at  one  of  the  fire-engine  houses,  where  it  gets 
all  the  flies,  crickets,  and  lightning  bugs  it  can  eat,  and  a  piece 
of  ice  to  sit  on  when  it  gets  too  hot. 


640  NATURAL  HISTORY. 

fl    Fl^IENDLY    Fl^OG. 


BY  T.  LANCEY. 


One  sultry  night  in  Indiana  I  sat  busily  writing  up-stairs  close 
to  an  open  window.  My  lamp,  placed  upon  the  desk,  attracted 
countless  numbers  of  the  insect- world  that  come  out  to  see  their 
friends  only  after  dark.  There  was  a  constant  buzz  around  the 
lamp,  and  many  a  scorched  victim,  falling  on  its  back,  vainly 
kicked  its  little  legs  in  air.  Suddenly  a  clear,  low  whistle 
sounded  from  the  window — a  whistle  somewhat  like  the  sound 
made  when  a  boy  blows  into  the  orifice  of  a  trunk-key.  Start- 
led for  a  moment,  I  turned  my  chair  and  beheld  on  the  window- 
sill  a  little  tree-frog  gravely  looking  at  me.  His  skin — of  an 
exquisite  pale  apple-green  color — shone  in  the  lamp-light. 
Fearful  that  I  might  frighten  him  away,  I  sat  motionless  in 
the  chair,  watching  him  intently.  Presently  he  gave  another 
little  whistle,  as  clear  and  sharp  as  a  bird-note.  He  was  evi- 
dently making  up  his  mind  that  I  was  to  be  trusted  (a  confi- 
dence not  misplaced),  and  soon  he  gave  an  easy  spring  and  was 
on  the  desk  before  me.  I  hardly  dared  to  breathe,  lest  he  should 
be  alarmed.  He  looked  at  me  carefully  for  a  few  minutes,  and 
then,  hopping  under  the  lamp,  he  began  a  slaughter  of  the  in- 
sect creation  such  as  I  had  never  witnessed.  He  captured  in  a 
flash  any  careless  fly  or  moth  that  came  near  him,  declining  to 
touch  the  dead  ones  that  had  cremated  themselves.  After  half 
an  hour's  enjoyment  of  this  kind,  my  apple-green  friend  hopped 
rather  lazily  across  the  desk,  repeated  the  whistle  with  which  he 
had  entered,  as  if  to  say  good-night,  and  went  out  into  the  dark. 
I  proceeded  with  my  work  and  soon  forgot  my  visitor.  B.ut 
judge  my  surprise  when  on  the  next  night  he  again  appeared, 
again  signaled  his  coming  with  his  musical  cry,  and  again  took 
up  his  position  under  my  lamp.  For  neai'ly  three  weeks  did 
my  small  friend  visit  my  room  nightly,  and  he  and  I  became 
great  friends.  House-flies  were  his  special  delicacy.  Stealthily 
crawling  up  the  painted  wall,  clinging  to  the  smooth  surface 
with  the  little  discs,  or  suckers,  on  his  feet,  he  would  draw  close 
up  to  his  body  first  one  leg  and  then  the  other,  and  when  within 
proper  distance  he  would  dart  forward,  and,  snatching  the  fly, 
would  swing  head  downward,  his  hind-feet  firmly  glued  to  the 


HUNTING  FISH  WITH  DOGS.  641 

wall.  Then,  attaching  his  fore-feet,  he  would  move  on  in  quest 
of  another.  He  never  missed  his  aim,  and  he  would  ({uictly  and 
calmly  zigzag  up  and  down  the  wall  after  every  fly  he  saw 
there.  He  became  quite  accustomed  to  me,  and  would  hop  on 
my  hand  and  sit  there,  looking  at  me  with  a  grave  composure 
ludicrous  to  behold. 

©i^ouii  Flailed  with  Gold. 

The  waters  of  Kern  River  and  its  tributaries,  says  the  Inyo 
(Cal.)  Independent,  excepting  the  head- waters  of  Whitney 
Creek,  are  occupied  by  the  speckled  brook-trout  so  often  found 
in  the  streams  and  lakes  of  the  Sierra,  whose  meat  is  hard  and 
sweet  because  bred  in  water  so  fresh  and  cold.  The  species 
found  in  the  head-waters  of  Whitney  Creek  are  peculiar  to  that 
place  and  creek,  and  are  known  as  the  "golden  trout."  They 
are  found,  as  we  understand  it,  at  no  other  place  in  the  world, 
and  have  as  yet  received  no  scientific  name.  They  do  not  excel 
in  delicacy  of  flesh  the  other  varieties  found  here,  but  are  noted 
for  the  beautiful  color  which  flakes  their  sides,  as  purely  golden 
as  if  they  had  been  submitted  to  a  coating  of  gold-foil.  This 
peculiarity  of  color  and  their  distinct  species  are  preserved  by  a 
natural  barrier  existing  between  them  and  the  other  varieties 
which  are  found  in  this  creek.  A  series  of  high  and  rocky  falls 
prevent  other  fish  from  ascending  and  mingling  with  them — 
and  so,  from  generation  to  generation,  they  have  thus,  by  a  nat- 
ural barrier,  been  able  to  preserve  their  distinct  character.  At 
times  some  of  them  have  descended  into  the  course  of  the  stream 
and  a  mixed  tribe  of  trout,  combining  the  speckled  and  golden 
trout,  has  been  formed,  individuals  of  which  are  often  caught. 

f^UNiPiNG  Fish  wiiph  Dogs. 

Capt.  Mayne  Reid  in  his  last  story,  "The  Land  of  Fire,"  now 
appearing  in  St.  Nicholas,  gives  in  the  March  installment  the 
following  interesting  description  of  a  peculiar  FuegiSn  manner 
of  fishing:  "The  four  canoes  have  now  arrived  at  the  entrance 
to  the  inlet,  and  are  forming  in  line  across  it  at  equal  distances 
from  one  another,  as  if  to  bar  the  way  against  any  thing  that 
may  attempt  to  pass  outward.  Just  such  is  their  design,  the  fish 
being  what  they  purpose  enfilading.  Soon  the  fish-hunters, 
41 


G42  NATURAL  HISTORY. 

having  completed  their  '  cordon '  and  dropped  the  dogs  over- 
board, come  on  up  the  cove,  the  w^omen  plying  .the  paddles,  the 
men  with  javelins  upraised  ready  for  darting.  The  little  foxy 
dogs  swim  abreast  of  and  between  the  canoes,  driving  the  fish 
before  them — as  sheep-dogs  drive  sheep — one  or  another  diving 
under  at  intervals  to  intercept  such  as  attempt  to  escape  out- 
ward; for  in  the  translucent  water  they  can  see  the  fish  far 
ahead,  and  trained  to  the  work,  they  keep  guard  against  a  break 
from  these  through  the  inclosing  line.  Soon  the  fish  are  forced 
up  to  the  inner  end  of  the  cove,  where  it  is  shoalest,  and  then 
the  woi'k  of  slaughter  commences.  The  dusky  fishermen, 
standing  in  the  canoes  and  bending  over,  now  to  this  side,  now 
that,  plunge  down  their  spears  and  fiz-gigs,  rarely  failing  to 
bring  up  a  fish  of  one  sort  or  another.  The  struggling  victim 
shaken  off  into  the  bottom  of  the  canoe,  there  gets  its  death- 
blow from  the  boys.  For  nearly  an  hour  the  curious  aquatic 
chase  is  can-ied  on,  not  in  silence,  but  amid  a  chorus  of  deafen- 
ing noises — the  shouts  of  the  savages  tind  the  barking  and  yelp- 
ing of  their  dogs  mingling  with  the  shrieking  of  the  sea-birds 
overhead.  And  thrice  is  the  cove  'drawn'  by  the  canoes, 
which  are  taken  back  to  its  mouth,  the  line  reformed,  and  the 
process  repeated  till  a  good  supply  of  the  fish  best  worth  catch- 
ing has  been  secured.'' 

pNJPS. 

Master  Charles  K.  Bolton,  fifteen  years  old,  contributes  the 
following  interesting  article  to  the  Congregationalist.  He  had 
no  help  in  writing  it.  If  other  boys  would  turn  their  attention 
to  natural  history  it  might  keep  them  out  of  mischief,  to  say 
nothing  of  the  instruction  and  discipline  they  would  receive: 

"  Some  warm  day,  when  you  do  not  know  what  to  do,  find 
an  ant-hill  under  a  shady  tree  and  watch  the  little  fellows  at 
their  work.  This  is  what  I  have  been  doing.  The  ring  of 
earth  around  the  hole,  like  the  wall  of  a  fort,  is  familiar,  but  the 
most  interesting  part  of  their  home  is  underground.  See  them 
drag  the  pebbles  out  of  the  hole  in  the  center!  If  you  could 
follow  it  down  you  would  find  the  way  irregular,  and  at  the 
end  a  number  of  galleries,  each  supported  by  little  pillars  of 
earth.  The  young  ants  are  kept  on  these  shelves,  and,  in  fact, 
it  is  their  city. 

"Here  the  chief  men  meet  to  talk  over  the  matters  of  the 


ANTS.  648 

colony.  But  how  can  they  talk?  Put  an  ant  under  the  micro* 
scope,  and  you  will  see  two  little  projections  on  the  head,  called 
mandibles.  The  ant  touches  its  mandibles  to  those  of  its  neigh* 
bor,  and  thus  they  speak.  Ants  are  very  strong,  persevering, 
and  industrious — some  working  all  night.  I  have  seen  an  ant 
carry  a  stone  three  or  four  times  its  size.  They  are  fond  of 
sweet  things.  Once  I  laid  a  piece  of  sugar  near  a  hole.  An 
ant  soon  found  it,  and  although  the  piece  was  many  times  as 
large  as  itself,  it  lifted  the  sugar  above  its  head  and  started  for 
the  hill.  All  went  well  until  the  hill  was  reached.  It  would 
get  hold  of  the  sugar  and  attempt  to  drag  it  up,  but  when  the 
first  pebble  was  struck  it  would  roll  over  and  over.  And  last, 
by  leveling  a  place  so  as  to  get  a  start,  by  the  occasional  help 
of  a  passing  ant,  the  sugar  was  pulled  over  the  hill. 

"  I  noticed  a  spider,  one  day,  stop  to  rest  near  an  ant-hill.  The 
ants  soon  saw  him  and  four  or  five  came  out.  They  took  hold 
of  his  legs  and  swarmed  on  his  back.  He  was  dragged  into 
the  hole,  and  the  rest  flocked  out  to  help  eat  him  up.  The  ants 
carry  their  young  out  every  pleasant  day  to  lie  in  the  sun,  and 
at  the  first  sight  of  rain  they  hurry  them  into  their  house. 

"  These  little  creatures  have  good  memories  and  never  forget 
their  friends.  If  an  ant  be  taken  out  of  an  ant-hill,  kept  for 
two  months,  and  then  put  back  into  the  same  hill,  it  will  be  re- 
ceived; but  if  it  be  placed  in  another,  it  will  be  killed. 

"In  Texas  there  is  found  the  'agricultural'  ant.  These  clear 
a  place  from  weeds  and  grass  for  about  two  feet  around  their 
house.  Then  they  drop  the  seed  of  a  kind  of  grass,  whose 
grain  they  like  very  much.  The  ants  take  care  of  the  young 
blades,  protecting  them  from  insects,  and  when  the  grain  is  ripe 
carry  it  into  their  homes.  But  what  is  more  peculiar,  if  the 
store  of  food  should  become  damp  during  a  rain,  it  will  all  be 
carried  out  on  the  first  sunny  day  and  dried,  and  then  brought 
back. 

"One  of  the  most  interesting  things  about  the  ant-nation  is 
their  cows,  which  are  kept  and  herded  like  ours.  Some  small 
insects,  called  aphides,  or  plant-lice,  have  two  little  horns  on  the 
abdomen.  When  the  ant  is  hungry  it  touches  these  horns  with 
its  mandibles,  and  the  aphis  gives  out  a  drop  of  sweet  fluid  of 
which  the  ant  is  very  fond.  These  aphides  live  on  the  sap  of 
trees.    The  '  miner'  ant,  which  is  very  timid,  makes  a  little  room 


644  NATURAL  HISTORY. 

under-ground  for  its  flock.  The  colony  which  has  the  most 
cows  is  considered  the  wealthiest. 

"  In  South  America  great  armies  of  ants  start  out  plundering 
every  thing  they  meet.  Even  horses  and  men  flee  before  them. 
They  go  all  through  a  house,  killing  and  eating  up  every  thing 
that  they  can  find.  When  they  come  to  a  river  they  climb 
upon  a  limb  that  hangs  over  the  water.  One  ant  holds  on  to 
the  end  of  the  branch;  another  takes  hold  of  the  first,  and  so 
on  until  they  have  formed  a  long  string.  They  hang  in  this 
way  until  the  end,  floating  on  the  v^^ater,  is  carried  across  by  the 
wind  or  current.  When  it  touches  the  opposite  shore  an  ant 
catches  hold  of  a  stick,  or  weed,  and  so  makes  a  living  chain. 
On  each  side  of  this  chain  another  row  is  formed,  so  that  the 
bridge  is  three  ants  wide.  Over  it  the  whole  company  pass. 
It  is  even  said  that  these  bridges  are  sometimes  made  hollow, 
or  tubular,  so  that  the  young  ants  may  be  protected  from  the 
sun.  When  the  wet  season  comes,  and  the  ground  is  cpvered 
with  water,  the  ants  form  themselves  into  balls  as  large  as  an 
orange,  and  float  around  until  it  goes  down. 

"  In  some  parts  of  the  world  there  are  '  red,'  or  '  warrior,'  ants. 
These  do  not  like  to  Work,  and  are  not  able  to  feed  themselves. 
Huber,  the  naturalist,  to  prove  this,  put  a  number  of  ants  into 
a  glass  case  with  some  of  their  favorite  food,  but  they  could  not 
eat  it,  and  many  died  of  starvation.  He  then  put  in  a  single 
black  ant,  which  had  been  kept  as  a  servant  by  the  red  ants. 
This  immediately  carried  food  to  them,  and  in  a  short  time  they 
w^ere  prospering.  The  black  ants  are  very  industrious,  so  the 
warrior  ants  steal  their  young  to  bring  up  as  slaves.  The  red 
are  great  fighters,  and  the  black  like  to  work  for  them  because 
they  are  well  protected.  Each  summer  the  warriors  make  a 
raid  on  their  black  neighbors,  because  if  the  slaves  should  die 
the  colony  would  perish.  The  robbers  form  themselves  in  line 
— an  ofllicer  to  about  twenty  Jiien — and  send  scouts  ahead  to 
find  a  suitable  colony  to  attack.  When  one  is  found,  they  in- 
form their  friends.  The  soldiers  march  to  the  place,  where  they 
are  met  by  the  inhabitants.  The  blacks  swarm  around  their 
home.  When  one  climbs  on  the  back  of  a  red  ant,  another  war- 
rior pulls  him  off.  Soon  the  poor  little  blacks  are  obliged  to 
flee,  and  the  victors  carry  away  their  children  in  triumph. 
These  are  taken  home  to  their  slaves,  who  care  for  them  until 


INSECTS  AS  TALKERS.  645 

the  little  fellows  are  able  to  work.  The  slaves,  instead  of  being 
sorry  for  their  relatives,  like  to  have  t^em  stolen,  because  they 
think  that  the  black  ants  are  better  protected  by  their  warriors 
than  they  would  be  at  home.  If  the  attempt  should  be  unsuc- 
cessful, and  their  masters  should  return  without  slaves,  the 
blacks  will  block  up  the  door  and  sometimes  drag  them  back 
and  make  them  fight." 

INSEGTS  AS   SaLI^BF^S. 

"Two  ants,"  said  Buchner,  "when  they  are  talking  together, 
stand  with  their  heads  opposite  each  other,  working  their  sen- 
sitive feelers  in  the  liveliest  manner,  and  tapping  each  other's 
heads."  Numerous  examples  prove  that  they  are  able  in  this 
way  to  make  mutual  communications,  and  even  .on  certain  defi- 
nite subjects.  "  I  have  often,"  says  the  English  naturalist,  Jesse, 
"placed  a  small  green  caterpillar  in  the  neighborhood  of  an 
ant's  nest.  It  is  immediately  seized  by  an  ant,  which  calls  in 
the  assistance  of  a  friend  after  ineffectual  efforts  to  drag  the 
caterpillar  into  the  nest.  It  can  be  clearly  seen  that  the  little 
creatures  hold  a  conversation  by  means  of  their  feelers,  and 
this  being  ended,  they  repair  together  to  the  caterpillar  in  order 
to  draw  it  into  the  nest  by  their  united  strength.  Further,  I 
have  observed  the  meeting  of  ants  on  their  way  to  and  from 
their  nests.  They  stop,  touch  each  other  with  their  feelers,  and 
appear  to  hold  a  conversation,  which,  I  have  good  reason  to 
suppose,  refers  to  the  best  ground  for  obtaining  food." 

Hague  writes,  in  a  lettet  to  Darwin,  that  he  one  day  killed 
with  his  finger  a  number  of  ants  who  came  every  day  from  a 
hole  in  the  wall  to  some  plants  standing  on  the  chimney-piece. 
He  had  tried  the  effect  of  brushing  them  away,  but  it  was  of 
no  use,  and  the  consequence  of  the  slaughter  was  that  the  ants 
who  were  on  their  way  immediately  turned  back,  and  tried  to 
persuade  their  companions,  who  were  not  yet  aware  of  their 
danger,  to  turn  back  also.  A  short  conversation  ensued  be- 
tween the  ants,  which,  however,  did  not  result  in  an  immediate 
return,  for  those  who  had  just  left  the  nest  first  convinced 
themselves  of  the  truth  of  the  report.  We  may  readily  infer 
that  ants  possess  a  degree  of  intelligence  fully  equal  to  many 
creatures  of  much  larger  size.  It  has  been  much  discussed  as  to 
which  possesses  the  greatest  degree  of  intelligence,  ants  or  bees. 


646  NATURAL  HISTORY. 

fiNiPS  AND   IPHBII^   ^UI^IOUS  ^AYS. 


BY  OLIVE  THORNE  MILLER. 


You  would*  hardly  know  how  to  go  to  work  to  find  out  the 
daily  life  and  duties  of  creatures  so  little  as  ants.  Yet  the  sci- 
entific men  who  have  spent  years  in  the  study  have  learned  not 
only  their  habits,  how  they  make  their  homes  and  bring  up  their 
babies,  what  they  eat  and  how  they  fight,  but  have  even  gone 
so  far  as  to  discover  some  of  their  sentiments  and  emotions.  A 
late  book  on  animal  intelligence,  published  by  the  Appletons, 
tells  some  very  interesting  things  about  them. 

One  naturalist  who  has  studied  their  ways  found  that  some 
of  them  feel  friendship  and  pity  for  suffering,  and  he  tells  it 
thus: 

"One  day,  watching  a  small  column  of  these  ants,  I  placed  a 
little  stone  on  one  of  them  to  secure  it.  They  rushed  to  the 
rescue.  Some  bit  at  the  stone  and  tried  to  move  it,  others  seized 
the  prisoner  by  the  legs  and  tugged  with  such  force  that  I 
thought  the  legs  would  be  pulled  off;  but  they  persevered  till 
they  got  the  captive  free.  I  next  covered  one  up  with  a  piece 
of  clay,  leaving  only  the  ends  of  its  antennse  projecting.  It 
was  soon  discovered  by  its  fellows,  which  set  to  work  imme- 
diately, and  by  biting  off  pieces  of  the  clay  soon  liberated  it. 
The  excitement  and  ardor  with  which  they  carried  on  their  un- 
flagging exertions  for  the  rescue  of  their  comrade  could  not 
have  been  greater  if  they  had  been  human  beings." 

Another  writer  gives  a  cui'ious  account  of  how  an  ant — the 
Texas  harvesting  ant — sleeps  and  awakes: 

"To  illustrate  the  soundness  of  the  sleep  I  take  the  quill-pen 
with  which  I  write,  and  apply  the  feather  end  of  it  to  an  ant 
who  is  asleep.  She  has  chosen  a  little  oval  depression  irx  the 
surface  and  lies  with  face  toward  the  lamp.  Her  legs  are  drawn 
up  close  to  the  body.  She  is  perfectly  still.  I  gently  draw  the 
feather  tip  along  the  body,  '  stroking  with  the  fur,'  if  I  may  so 
say.  There  is  no  motion."  After  trying  in  vain  to  waken  her 
by  various  motions  of  the  feather  end  of  the  pen,  he  finally 
arouses  the  sleeper  by  a  sharp  touch  of  the  quill.  "  She 
stretches  out  her  head,  then  her  legs,  which  she  also  shakes, 
steps  nearer  to  the  light,  and  begins  to  cleanse  herself.     This 


ANTS  AND  THEIR  CURIOUS  WAYS.  647 

act  invariably  follows  the  waking  of  ants  from  sleep."  (An- 
other  good  example  from  the  ants,  you  see.)  "I  have  several 
times  seen  the  ants  yawning  after  awakening.  I  use  this  word 
for  lack»of  one  which  more  accurately  expresses  the  behavior. 
The  action  is  very  much,  like  that  of  the  human,nnimal.  The 
mandibles  are  thrown  open,  .  .  .  the  tongue  is  sometimes 
thrust  out,  and  the  limbs  stretched  with  the  appearance  at  least 
of  that  tension  which  accompanies  the  yawn  in  the  genus  homo.*^ 

The  old  story  of  ants  indulging  in  games  and  play  was  for  a 
long  time  thought  to  be  a  fable,  but  grave  scientific  gentlemen 
of  our  day  have  seen  it,  and  we  shall  have  to  believe  it  now, 
queer  as  it  seems.  The  old  story  was  told  by  Huber,  who 
"saw  these  ants  on  a  fine  day  assembled  on  the  surface  of  their 
nests  and  behaving  in  a  way  that  he  could  only  explain  as  sim- 
ulating festival  sports  or  other  games.  They  raised  themselves 
on  their  hind-legs,  embraced  each  other  with  their  fore-legs, 
seized  each  other  by  the  antennaj,  feet,  or  mandibles,  and 
wrestled,  but  all  in  the  friendliest  fashion.  They  then  let  go, 
ran  after  each  other,  and  played  hide-and-seek.  When  one  was 
victorious  it  seized  all  the  others  in  the  ring  and  tumbled  them 
over  like  nine-pins." 

So  much  for  the  old  writer.  Now  says  the  new:  "The  play- 
ers caught  each  other  by  the  feet  or  jaws,  rolled  over  each  other 
on  the  ground  like  boys  playing,  pulled  each  other  inside  the 
entrance  of  their  nest,  only  to  come  out  again,  and  so  on.  All 
this  was  done  without  bad  temper,  or  any  spurting  of  poison 
and  it  was  clear  that  all  the  rivalry  was  friendly." 

It  must  be  a  startling  thing  to  break  a  twig  from  a  tree  and 
see  the  live  ants  run  out.  Yet  it  may  be  done  in  New  South 
Wales,  where  one  family  of  ants  regularly  makes  its  home  in- 
side the  branches,  digging  out  the  pith  even  to  the  twigs,  and 
not  harming  the  life  of  the  tree  in  the  least. 

That  is  no  more  curious  than  the  one  made  by  another  family 
out  of  tree-leaves  glued  together  in  some  way  to  form  a  hollow 
ball,  and  lined  with  a  sort  of  paper,  the  whole  hanging  to  the 
branch. 

To  build  a  bridge  would  surely  seem  to  be  beyond  the  power 
of  even  so  wise  little  creatures  as  ants,  yet  they  have  accom- 
plished this  hard  thing  in  more  than  one  way.  One  party  of 
ants,  wishing  to  go  up  into  a  tree,  for  reasons  of  their  own, 


648  NATURAL  HISTORY. 

found  their  way  stopped  by  a  broad  cloth  soaked  in  tobacco- 
water.  Did  they  give  it  up?  Far  from  it.  They  went  back  to 
the, ground,  where  each  ant  provided  itself  with  a  small  ball  of 
earth,  returned,  and  laid  the  balls  side  by  side  till  they,  formed 
a  bridge  over  the  cloth,  and  went  up  and  down  it  as  long  as 
they  chose. 

Again,  a  man  who  wished  to  keep  ants  out  of  a  favorite  tree 
put  a  ring  of  birdlime  around  the  trunk,  but  they,  too,  built  a 
bridge  of  earth  and  little  stones,  which  caiTied  them  safely 
over. 

At  another  time  some  ants  which  were  imprisoned  when  up 
in  a  tree,  by  a  ring  of  tar  around  the  trunk,  built  their  bridge, 
not  of  earth  and  stones,  but  of  living  aphides,  of  which  there 
were  plenty.  One  after  another  of  these  unfortunates  were 
planted  in  the  tar,  till  the  bridge  was  completed  and  the  ants 
could  pass  over. 

Bees. 

There  were  no  honey-bees  in  America  until  they  were 
brought  here  by  Europeans,  but  they  are  now  found  all  over 
North  and  South  America,  although  they  did  not  reach  South 
America  until  1845  ^"^  California  until  1850.  The  Indians  call 
them  the  white  man's  fly,  because  they  go  wherever  the  white 
man  settles. 

Bees  live  in  communities  or  societies,  and  are  divided  into  fe- 
males, males,  and  workers.  Each  hive  has  but  one  female, 
oalled  the  queen,  who  governs  the  society  and  lays  the  eggs. 
The  males  who  do  no  work  are  called  drones,  and  there  are 
sometimes  several  hundreds  or  even  thousands  of  them  in  a 
hive,  there  being  usually  one  in  every  thirty  bees.  The  queen 
bee  seldom  leaves  the  hive  except  in  the  swarming  season,  after 
which  all  the  drones  in  the  hive  are  killed  by  the  workers.  The 
workers,  who  form  the  principal  part  of  each  society,  do  all  the 
work,  gathering  the  honey,  making  the  wax  and  building  the 
cells,  and  feeding  and  taking  care  of  the  young. 

Bees  are  very  strong,  and  can  fly  very  fast  and  for  a  long 
time  without  lighting.  Their  eyes  are  made  to  see  at  great  dis- 
tances; when  absent  from  home  they  go  up  into  the  air  until 
they  see  the  place  where  their  hive  is,  and  then  fly  toward  it 
in  a  straight  line  with  great  speed,  from  which  the  shortest  line 


BEES.  649 

between  two  places  is  sometimes  called  a  "bee-line."  Thin 
habit  of  bees  is  well  known  to  hunters  of  wild  honey,  who 
often  find  hives  in  the  woods  by  following  bees  who  arc  going 
home. 

Drones  have  no  stings,  but  the  females  and  the  worker*  each 
have  one  at  the  back  part  of  the  body.  When  a  bcc  stings  it 
first  makes  a  wound  with  the  sheath,  along  which  the  poison 
flows  in  a  groove,  and  it  then  thrusts  in  the  darts  to  deepen  the 
wound.  The  saw-teeth  edges  are  very  hard  to  pull  out,  and  bees 
are  often  so  hurt  in  trying  to  get  them  out  quickly  that  they  die. 
Bee  poison  is  so  deadly  that  a  single  sting  will  kill  an  insect, 
and  animals  and  men  have  been  sometimes  Jcilled  by  bees  which 
attacked  them  in  great  numbers. 

When  the  queen  bee  has  been  paired  with  one  of  the  drones, 
she  goes  to  work  to  lay  eggs,  laying  sometimes  as  many  as  two 
or  three  thousand  in  a  day.  Worker  eggs  are  first  laid  in  one 
set  of  cells,  and  then  drone  eggs  in  another;  and  if  the  hive  is 
very  full,  and  it  is  thought  best  to  have  another  queen,  she  lays 
a  third  set  of  eggs  in  a  third  set  of  cells.  In  three  days  the 
larvae,  which  look  like  small  white  worms,  come  out  of  the 
eggs.  They  are  fed  by  the  workers  with  the  pollen  or  dust  of 
flowers  mixed  with  honey  and  water.  After  five  or  six  days 
more  the  larvae  begin  to  spin  a  covering  or  cocoon  around  them- 
selves, from  which  the  workers  come  out  perfect  bees  in  twenty 
days,  and  the  drones  in  twenty-four  days.  Queen  bees  are 
ready  to  come  out  of  the  cocoon  in  sixteen  days.  If  the  hive 
is  not  full  the  new  queens  are  all  stung  to  death  iti  the  cells  by 
the  old  queen;  but  if  the  colony  is  large,  one  of  the  new  queens 
is  permitted  to  come  out.  As  soon  as  she  appears  the  old  queen 
leaves  the  hive,  taking  with  her  a  part  of  the  bees,  and  goes  ofl' 
to  form  a  new  one.  This  is  called  swarming,  because  when 
they  leave  the  hive  they  usually  collect  in  a  mass,  called  a  swarm, 
on  the  branch  of  a  tree,  a  bush,  or  some  other  handy  place.  If 
the  owner  of  the  bees  then  sets  an  empty  hive  near  them,  they 
will  go  into  it  and  set  to  work  to  make  wax  and  honey,  just  as 
they  did  in  the  old  one.  The  new  queen  of  the  old  hive  rules 
until  another  queen  appears,  when  she,  too,  leaves  and  founds  a 
colony.  When  two  queens  come  out  at  the  same  time,  they 
fight  until  one  of  them  is  killed. 

The  food  of  bees  is  of  two  kinds,  the  pollen  of  flowers  and 


650  NATURAL  HISTORY. 

sweet  juices.  The  pollen  is  gathered  on  the  hairs  of  their  legs 
and  carried  to  the  hive  for  the  food  of  the  young  ones.  The 
juices  of  flowers  are  licked  up  by  the  hairy  proboscis,  or  trunk, 
which  serves  as  a  sort  of  tongue.  This,  which  is  made  up  of 
several  parts,  can  be  lengthened,  shortened,  twisted,  and  bent 
in  any  way,  so  that  it  gathers  all  the  sweets  from  the  petals  and 
the  bottom  of  the  flower-cups.  If  a  flower  is  not  full  blown, 
the  bee  will  open  it  wide  enough  to  get  in  its  proboscis  for  the 
juices  and  its  front  legs  for  the  pollen.  Bees  also  gather  a  great 
deal  of  honey  from  the  sweet  juices  which  plant  lice  scatter  in 
little  drops  upon  the  leaves  of  trees.  Juices  are  carried  by  the 
proboscis  into  the  rrkouth,  from  which  they  pass  into  the  honey- 
bag,  a  kind  of  first  stomach,  where  they  are  changed  into  honey; 
but  they  are  not  digested,  for  bees  have  a  second  stomach  for 
the  digestion  of  food.  The  honey  can  be  brought  up  from  the 
first  stomach  at  will,  either  to  feed  the  young  or  to  be  stored  up 
in  the  cells. 

Wax  is  made  only  by  the  working  bees.  They  have  a  pouch 
in  the  back  part  of  the  body  in  which  the  wax  grows  little  by 
little.  When  the  pouch  is  full  the  wax  sticks  out  in  little  scales, 
and  either  the  bee  himself  or  some  of  his  fellow-workers  take  it 
off'  and  use  it  in  making  honey-comb.  The  cells  in  the  comb 
are  always  made  six-sided,  so  that  no  room  is  wasted.  They 
are  at  first  soft  and  white,  but  soon  become  firm  and  dark  yellow. 
Cells  made  for  honey  and  pollen  are  about  twice  as  large  as 
those  for  hatching,  and  are  always  built  with  their  mouths 
slanted  upward,  so  as  to  be' easier  filled.  The  honey-combs, 
which  are  begun  at  the  top  of  the  hive  and  built  downward, 
are  about  an  inch  thick,  and  are  each  made  up  of  two  sets  of 
cells  placed  back  to  back.  Between  every  two  combs  is  left  a 
space  about  half  an  inch  wide,  so  that  the  bees  can  carry  honey 
to  the  cells.  As  each  one  is  filled  it  is  sealed  up  with  wax. 
The  honey  and  pollen  thus  stored  up  serve  the  bees  for  food 
during  the  winter.  Farmers  often  take  the  honey  with  care  out 
of  the  combs  and  put  the  empty  combs  back  into  the  hive  to  be 
again  filled  by  the  bees. 

The  honey-bee  is  an  insect  of  the  order  hymenoptera,  or  mem- 
brane-winged insects.  The  word  bee  comes  from  the  Anglo- 
Saxon  beo. 


FUN  WITH  A  SPIDER.  661 

©HE   F{B6I^LESS   BBB. 

An  experimenter  in  Southern  agriculture  told  me  the  follow- 
ing history  of  Northern  bees  in  the  South:  He  took  a  colony 
of  the  little  gratuitous  honey-makers  down  to  Florida.  The 
first  year  they  reveled,  throve,  and  stored  honey  nearly  all  the 
unvaried  summer-time;  but  the  second  year  a  few  of  the  more 
reflective  bees  evidently  turned  the  thing  over  in  their  minds 
thus:  "This  country  has  no  winter  to  provide  against;  what  is 
the  use  of  laying  up  honey  where  the  flowers  blossom  all  the 
year  round?"  These  bees  exerted  enough  influence  among 
their  friends  to  keep  a  good  many  bees  from  laying  by  any 
sweet  merchandise  the  second  year  of  their  exile.  But  the 
prudential  instinct  so  strong  in  the  little  insect  prevailed  with 
the  majority.  They  evidently  said  to  themselves:  "Perhaps 
this  has  been  an  exceptional  year.  Next  season  may  bring  cold 
and  snow,  and  dearth  of  flowers."  So  there  was  quite  a  stock 
of  honey  laid  by  in  the  second  year  in  spite  of  a  few  strikers. 
But  by  the  third  year  the  conviction  had  evidently  thoroughly 
penetrated  the  bee  mind  that  it  was  foolish  to  lay  up  in  a  land 
of  eternal  blossom.  They  made  just  enough  to  last  from  day 
to  day,  and  abandoned  themselves  to  living  from  hand  to  mouth 
as  recklessly  as  does  any  tropic-born  butterfly. 

FUN   WITH  A  SpIDBI^. 

Spiders,  in  many  respects,  are  just  like  other  animals,  and  can 
be  tamed  and  petted  and  taught  a  great  many  other  lessons 
which  they  will  learn  as  readily  as  a  dog  or  cat;  but  you  must 
take  the  trouble  to  study  their  ways  and  get  on  the  right  side 
of  them.  One  day  I  had  been  reading  in  a  book  how  spiders 
managed  to  get  their  webs  across  streams  and  roads,  and  from 
the  top  of  one  tall  tree  to  another.  I  went  out  and  caught  a 
large  garden  spider,  one  of  those  blue-gray  sprawling  fellows, 
and  fixed  him  up  for  my  experiment.  I  took  a  stick  about 
eighteen  inches  in  length  and  fastened  a  piece  of  iron  to  one 
end  of  it,  so  that  the  stick  would  stand  up  on  that  end  of  itself. 
Then  I  put  this  stick  in  a  large  tub  of  water,  and  placed  the 
spider  on  top  of  the  stick.  I  wanted  to  see  if  he  could  get  to 
the  "land,"  which  was  the  edge  of  the  trub,  without  any  help. 
He  ran  down  first  one  side  of   the  stick  and  then  the  other. 


652  NATURAL  HISTORY. 

Each  time  he  would  stop  when  he  touched  the  water,  and  shak- 
ing his  foot  as  a  cat  does,  he  would  run  up  again.  At  last  he 
came  to  the  conclusion  that  he  was  entirely  surrounded  by  wa- 
ter— on  an  island,  in  fact.  After  remaining  perfectly  quiet  for 
a  long  while — during  which  I  have  no  doubt  he  was  arranging 
his  plans — he  began  running  around  the  top  of  the  stick  and. 
throwing  out  great  coils  of  web  with  his  hind-feet.  In  a  few 
minutes  little  fine  strings  of  web  were  floating  away  in  the 
slight  breeze  that  was  blowing.  After  a  little  while  one  of 
these  threads  touched  the  edge  of  the  tub  and  stuck  fast,  as  all 
spider-webs  will  do.  This  was  just  what  Mr.  Spider  was  look- 
ing for,  and  the  next  moment  he  took  hold  of  this  web  and  gave 
it  a  jerk,  as  a  sailor  does  with  a  rope  when  he  wishes  to  see  how 
strong  it  is,  or  to  make  it  fast.  Having  satisfied  himself  that  it 
was  fast  at  the  other  end,  he  gathered  it  in  until  it  was  tight  and 
straight,  and  then  ran  on  it  quickly  to  the  shore — a  rescued  cast- 
away saved  by  his  own  ingenuity.  Spiders  are  not  fools,  if 
they  are  ugly;  and  He  who  made  all  things  has  a  care  and 
thought  for  all.     The  earth  is  full  of  the  knowledge  of  God. 

I7B   (©AUGHJF   A   SaI^JPAI^. 

Thomas  Bell,  the  naturalist,  tells  a  story  of  how  a  spider 
caught  a  tartar.  A  big  blue-bottle  fly  bounced  into  a  spider's 
web.  The  spider  hastily  presented  himself  and  threw  its  long 
arms  around  the  fly.  The  fly  returned  the  compliment,  and 
after  battering  and  tearing  the  web  into  pieces,  flew  away  with 
the  spider. 

ffiOSQUUTOBS   UNDBI^   THE   CQlGl^OSGOPB. 

We  have  long  held  the  opinion  that  the  mosquito  is  an  un- 
mitigated scoundrel,  who  could  give  our  own  lively  flea  six 
stones  and  a  beating  over  a  long  course,  but  we  are  now  con- 
vinced. A  gentleman  has  examined  Mr.  Mosquito  under  a 
microscope,  and  his  description  is,  to  say  the  least,  startling.  It 
appears  that  in  the  "  bill "  of  the  little  beast  alone  there  are  no 
fewer  than  five  distinct  surgical  instruments.  These  are  de- 
sci'ibed  as  a  lance,  two  meat-saws,  a  suction  pump,'  and  a  small 
Corliss  engine.  It  appears  that  when  a  "  skeeter  settles  down 
to  his  work  upon  a  nice,  tender  portion  of  the  human  frame,  the 


TAME  COBRAS.  668 

lance  is  first  pushed  into  the  flesh,  then  the  two  saws,  placed 
back  to  back,  begin  to  work  up  and  down  to  enlarge  the  hole, 
then  the  pump  is  inserted,  and  the  victim's  blood  is  siphoned  up 
to  the  reservoirs,  carried  behind,  and  finally,  to  complete  the 
cruelty  of  the  performance,  the  wretch  drops  a  quantity  of  poi- 
son into  the  wound  to  keep  it  irritated.  Then  the  diminutive 
fiend  takes  a  fly  around  just  to  digest  your  gore,  and  makes 
tracks  for  a  fresh  victim,  or  if  the  first  one  has  been  of  unusually 
good  quality  he  returns  to  the  same  happy  hunting-ground. 
The  mosquito's  marvelous  energy,  combined  with  his  portable 
operating  chest,  make  him  at  once  a  terror  and  a  pest.  Our 
English  skin-grazers  are  doves  in  comparison  with  them. 

Same  €5obi^as. 

Up  in  Poona  a  delicate  gentleman  named  Quain,  passionately 
fond  of  natural  history,  was  visited  one  morning  by  three  Hin- 
doo snake-charmers.  In  the  bungalow  compound,  or  garden, 
they  showed  off  their  time-immemorial  tricks  of  making  cobras 
raise  themselves  half  up  and  sway  gracefully  to  the  harsh  music 
of  bamboo  pipes. 

It  occurred  to  him  that  he  might  train  a  couple  of  snakes  and 
be  in  a  position  to  observe  their  habits  closely.  He  asked  the 
snake-charmers  if  the  fangs  of  the  cobras  were  out,  and  seeing 
that  he  contemplated  purchasing  the  snakes,  they  assured  him 
by  Gunputi  that  the  fangs  were  undoubdtedly  extracted.  For 
a  few  rupees  he  bought  the  reptiles  and  turned  them  loose  in 
his  own  bed-room,  where  he  used  to  watch  them  crawling  along 
the  bamboo  matting,  sniffing  with  their  cold  noses  against  the 
walls,  or  twisting  themselves  up  within  each  other's  coils  like  a 
slimy  knot. 

He  made  a  little  box  for  them,  lined  with  cotton-wool,  into 
which  they  used  to  creep  in  the  heat  of  the  day,  for  at  night- 
time they  were  always  peculiarly  active,  probably  because  the 
weather  then  was  comparatively  cool.  In  different  parts  of  the 
room  he  laid  down  platters  full  of  milk,  and  toward  these  the 
cobras  crawled  whenever  they  felt  inclined  for  food.  It  would 
seem  almost  as  if  they  knew  his  voice,  for  when  Quain  entered 
the  room  and  spoke  they  would  lift  their  heads  and  crawl 
slowly  in  his  direction.     He  even  had  a  pet  name  for  each,  but 


654  NATURAL  HISTORY. 

I  am  not  aware  that  either  of  them  recognized  it,  for  when  he 
called  they  would  both  wriggle  quickly  over  to  his  feet.  He 
often  fed  them  himself  when  they  came  to  him  in  this  way,  and 
many  persons  used  to  call  and  see  Quain's  loathsome  pets,  which 
were  considered  one  of  the  wonders  of  the  Cantonments. 

Ladies  were  frequently  invited  to  call  at  Quain's  bungalow, 
and  see  what  a  human  being  could  do  by  kindness,  etc.,  even 
with  cobras;  but  they  were  more  interested  in  the  phenomenon 
in  the  abstract  than  in  detail,  and  preferred  to  stay  away  and 
hear  all  about  it  from  the  officers  who  called  upon  them.  Most 
of  them  agreed  that  Mr.  Qiiain  certainly  had  very  singular 
tastes,  and  that  it  would  be  an  outrage  for  any  person  to  marry 
him.  Quain,  however,  lived  through  warnings  and  ridicule, 
and  went  on  feeding  his  cobras. 

Quain  had  a  small  imported  Scotch  terrier,  which  was  a  great 
favorite,  as  it  had  a  wag  of  the  tail  and  a  merry  little  bark  for 
everybody  that  looked  respectable  and  friendly.  "  Zip  "  used 
to  go  regularly  into  the  cobra-room  with  his  master,  and,  after 
he  became  accustomed  to  the  reptiles,  would  crouch  down,  bark 
at  them,  and  then  leap  and  tumble  over  their  backs.  The  co- 
bras would  only  wriggle  out  of  the  way.  Zip  following  them 
and  barking  at  their  tails,  so  that  everybody  believed  and  said 
that  the  terrier  and  the  snakes  were  the  best  of  friends. 

About  four  months  after  Qiiain's  purchase  of  the  cobras,  he 
entered  the  room  with  some  bread  and  milk  and  called  them  to 
him.  Both  glided  noiselessly  to  his  feet  and  lapped  contentedly 
at  the  milk.  Zip,  pretending  to  be  jealous,  jumped  forward 
barking,  and  leaped  with  his  fore-paws  upon  one  of  the  cobras. 
It  shook  itself  out,  and  went  on  lapping.  Zip  then  went  for  its 
head,  and  jumping  and  running  back,  barking  all  the  time, 
made  a  playful  snap  at  its  head.  The  cobra  ceased  lapping  the 
milk,  reared  its  head  about  a  foot  from  the  gi'ound,  and  with  its 
spectacled,  outstretched  hood,  commenced  waving  the  upper 
part  of  its  body  to  and  fro.  Zip  made  one  more  jump  forward. 
Like  lightning  the  cobra  struck  at  the  dog,  and  then  wheeled 
off,  hissing,  to  its  lair  beneath  the  couch.  In  ten  minutes  after- 
ward, after  enduring  horrible  sufferings,  poor  Zip  lay  dead,  with 
his  master  almost  crying  over  his  body.  Quain  then  learned  for 
the  first  time  that  a  cobra  can  ren§w  its  fangs  in  about  three 
months,  that  his  pets  had  renewed  their  fangs,  and  that  he  had 


WESTERN  SNAKES.  666 

actually  been  playing  with  certain  death  for  several  weeks. 
The  accidental  death  of  the  dog  had  in  all  probability  saved  his 
life. 

05BS1tEI^N   SNAI^BS. 

Prominent  among  the  snakes  of  the  West  are  the  blue  racer, 
the  blow-snake,  and  the  glass-snake.     A  writer  describes  in  the 

Worcester  Spy  their  peculiarities,  as  follows: 

The  blue  racer  is  in  figure  like  our  black-snake,  and  yet  he  is 
to  that  snake  what  a  steam -yacht  is  to  a  tug-boat,  a  thorough- 
bred is  to  a  sheltie.  His  color  is  that  of  deep  indigo  upon  the 
back,  lightened  by  the  most  perfect  blending  to  a  pure  white 
upon  the  belly. 

It  is  his  habit  to  follow  the  breaking  plow  in  search  of  such 
worms  and  insects  as  are  turned  to  the  light,  and  one  of  five  or 
six  feet  in  length  will  often  approach  to  within  a  few  feet  of 
the  plowman's  heels,  so  near  that  a  new-comer  is  made  uneasy 
and  inclined  to  wish  himself  back  in  New  England,  where  rep- 
tiles are  at  least  less  inclined  to  familiarity. 

But  the  racer  is  so  persistent,  while  the  demand  upon  the 
plowman's  labor  is  so  imperative,  that  the  one  must  not,  and 
the  other  will  not,  abandon  the  furrow. 

So  what  at  first  was  akin  to  terror  in  the  man  emerges  into 
indignation,  and  he  starts,  whip  in  hand,  to  bring  matters  to  an 
immediate  crisis,  when — presto!  like  a  ray  of  light — swift  as  an 
arrow  from  the  bow  of  an  Indian,  the  racer  shoots  diagonally 
across  the  breaking. 

The  moment  your  back  is  turned  upon  him  he  is  at  your  heels, 
bantering  you  to  try  it  over  again.  Bless  his  beautiful  figure! 
He  may  be  "wise  as  a  serpent" — he  is  certainly  "harmless  as  a 
dove." 

The  blow-snake  is  in  color  and  general  appearance  the  coun- 
terpart of  the  Southern  rattler — plaided  yellow  and  black — but 
he  lacks  the  burning  eye,  the  horrid  flattening  of  the  head,  in 
itself  the  seeming  portent  of  evil,  and  that  six  inches  of  erected 
tail  with  its  quivering  rattle  in  the  center  of  the  coil. 

I  have  killed  them  eight  feet  in  length  and  three  and  one- 
half  inches  through.  They  never  pick  a  quarrel,  but  they  de- 
fend themselves  on  occasion  by  a  blast  of  poison  air,  which  they 
emit  through  the  mouth  with  a  half  hiss,  half  whistle.     The 


656  NATURAL  HISTORY. 

breath  is  not  deadly,  not  even  perhaps  dangerous,  but  horribly 
sickening.  I  have  seen  a  dog  greatly  distressed  for  an  hour 
after  a  battle  with  one  of  them. 

But  the  strangest  of  all  strange  snakes  is  the  joint  or  glass- 
snake.  Why,  w^hen  speaking  of  him  I  have  had  men  look  in- 
credulous as  if  they  thought  I  could  lie,  as  if  the}-  took  me  for 
a  trout-fisher. 

A  boy  sat  upon  my  plow-beam  one  August  day  on  Grand 
Prairie,  and  he  told  of  a  snake  that  at  the  crack  of  a  whip,  the 
attack  of  a  dog,  or  the  touch  of  a  foot,  would  fly  in  pieces  of  its 
own  volition.  Another  "  Yank  "  stood  by  me,  and  together  we 
offered  the  boy  two  dollars  to  produce  a  specimen. 

We  were  short  of  money,  but  were  fully  persuaded  the  fellow 
lied,  and  we  therefoi"e  felt  safe.  But  sure  enough  at  noon  of  the 
second  day  the  young  "  Sucker"  put  in  an  appearance  with  four 
parts  of  a  snake,  still  alive,  perfectly  bloodless  at  the  point  of 
separation,  where  it  was  white  like  jjearl  or  gristle,  dove-tailed 
with  the  utmost  nicety,  with  not  less  than  eight  dove-tails  at 
each  break,  and  each  having  its  corresponding  mortise  or  in- 
dentation. 

The  first  break,  about  six  inches  from  the  head,  was  evidently 
below  the  terminus  of  the  intestinal  canal.  The  boy  said  he 
only  threw  his  straw  hat  at  him,  but  of  course  we  had  to  take 
that  on  his  own  word. 

This  snake  was  also  striped,  yellow  and  black,  very  hard  and 
glassy,  and  his  head,  too,  was  fashioned  like  an  eel.  His  entire 
length  was  seventeen  inches.  I  afterward  saw  one  fly  in  pieces 
at  the  snapping  of  a  whip.  I  think  he  received  the  blow.  He, 
too,  was  bloodless,  and  apparently  suff*ered  no  pain. 

^ui^ious  Pagts  about  Snai^bs. 

Catherine  C.  Hopley,  who  has  written  a  great  deal  on  snakes 
and  their  habits,  came  to  America  from  England  last  summer 
with  the  intention  of  obtaining,  if  possible,  some  new  facts  and 
illustrations  of  snake  life.  She  writes  to  Land  and  Water  that 
one  object  of  her  ambition  was  to  procure  for  one  of  the  mu- 
seums a  mother  snake  with  her  brood  refuged  in  her  throat; 
but,  though  hitherto  unsuccessful,  she  has  reasonable  hopes  that 
a  thus  refuged  family  of  little  ophidians  will  be  furnished  to 


.    CURIOUS  FACTS  ABOUT  SNAKES.  C37 

more  than  one  of  the  national  museums  next  summer,  enthusi* 
asts  promising  that  no  efforts  shall  be  wanting  to  afford  ocular 
proof  of  this  maternal  instinct.  That  it  should  still  be  doubted 
anywhere  'arouses  the  ire  of  many  in  America,  she  adds,  who 
have  for  years  been  offering  testimony  as  eye-witnesses.  What 
is  now  desired  is  that  observations  should  be  extended  to  Africa, 
India,  and  Australia,  because  if  the  habit  of  a  mother-snake  re- 
ceiving her  young  into  her  throat  for  refuge  should  be  confined 
to  this  continent  only  and  to  England,  it  is  a  remarkable  feature 
in  ophidian  history  for  the  most  learned  biologists  to  work  out. 

But,  as  regards  Australia,  some  few  cases  are  not  wanting. 
A  gentleman,  who  is  a  great  traveler  and  ardent  sportsman,  as- 
sured the  writer  than  he  had  himself  seen  an  alarmed  black- 
snake  (probably  Pseudechis  porphyriacus)  open  her  mouth  and 
thus  receive  her  young.  On  shooting  her  the  young  ones  es- 
caped from  her  mouth  again. 

A  gentleman  who  writes  in  the  American  Field  under  the 
name  of  "Snipe"  described  a  "dark-colored  snake  of  about  six 
feet  long  "  opening  its  mouth  and  receiving  its  young.  Watch- 
ing for  reed-birds — the  "bobolink"  of  the  Eastern  States  and 
the  "ric^-bunting"  of  the  South — he  was  lying  flat  on  the 
ground  with  his  gun,  in  the  latter  part  of  August,  when  about 
ten  feet  off  he  saw  the  snake  with  her  mouth  wide  open,  and 
the  young  ones  hurrying  in  as  if  eager  to  hide  themselves.  He 
watched  her  for  some  minutes,  when  his  friend  who  was  shoot- 
ing with  him  came  near  and  disturbed  the  snake,  which  then 
began  to  move  off  with  the  hidden  snakelings,  while  a  number 
of  little  brother  and  sister  snakes,  "  not  yet  taken  in,"  followed 
closely.  "Snipe"  then  took  aim  and  shot  oft'  its  head,  and  on 
opening  the  snake  found  the  young  ones  all  alive,  coiled  in  a 
ball  near  the  throat,  while  further  down  were  a  bird  and  meadow 
mouse  recently  swallowed.  He  relates  the  incident  in  opposi- 
tion to  the  hypothesis  that  snakes,  being  cannibals,  might  swal- 
low their  young  for  food,  and  describes  this  mother  as  patiently 
waiting  with  her  mouth  open,  all  action  being  confined  to  the 
eager  young  ones. 

The  common  name  in  northern  Illinois  for  the  rattlesnake  found 
there,  and  which  inhabits  the  edges  of  marshy  ground  only,  is 
massasauger.     Its  bite  is  deadly  poison.     Its  antidote  is  whisky. 
42 


658  natural  history. 

(she  €lbphaniit. 

The  elephant  is  the  largest  of  quadrupeds;  his  height  is  from 
eight  to  fourteen  feet,  and  his  length  is  from  ten  to  fifteen  feet, 
His  form  is  that  of  a  hog;  his  eyes  are  small  and  lively;  his  ears 
are  long,  broad,  and  pendulous.  He  has  two  large  tusks,  which 
form  the  ivory  of  commerce,  and  a  trunk,  or  proboscis,  at  the 
end  of  the  nose,  which  he  uses  to  take  his  food  with,  and  for 
attack  or  defense.     His  color  is  a  dark  ash  brown. 

Elephants  often  assemble  in  large  troops;  and  as  they  march 
in  quest  of  food  the  forests  seem  to  tremble  under  them.  They 
eat  the  branches  of  trees,  together  with  roots,  herbs,  leaves, 
grain,  and  fruit,  but  will  not  touch  fish  or  flesh.  In  a  state  of 
nature  they  are  peaceable,  mild,  and  brave,  exerting  their  power 
only  for  their  own  protection,  or  in  defense  of  their  own  species, 
with  whom  they  are  always  social  and  friendly. 

Elephants  are  found  both  in  Asia  and  Africa,  but  they  are  of 
different  species,  the  Asiatic  elephant  having  five  toes,  and  the 
African  three.  These  animals  are  caught  by  stratagem,  and 
w^hen  tamed  they  ai'e  the  most  gentle,  obedient,  and  patient,  as 
well  as  the  most  docile  and  sagacious,  of  all  quadrupeds.  They 
are  used  to  carry  burdens  and  for  traveling.  Their  attachment 
to  their  masters  is  remarkable,  and  they  seem  to  live  but  to 
serve  and  obey  them.  They  always  kneel  to  receive  their  ridei's 
or  the  loads  they  have  to  carry. 

The  anecdotes  illustrating  the  character  of  the  elephant  are 
numerous. 

An  elephant  which  was  kept  for  exhibition  at  London, 
England,  was  often  required,  as  is  usual  in  such  exhibitions,  to 
pick  up  with  his  trunk  a  piece  of  money  thrown  upon  the 
floor  for  this  purpose.  On  one  occasion,  a  sixpence  was  thrown, 
which  happened  to  roll  a  little  out  of  his  reach,  not  far  from 
the  wall.  Being  desired  to  pick  it  up,  he  stretched  out  his  pro- 
boscis several  times  to  reach  it;  failing  in  this,  he  stood  motion- 
less a  few  seconds,  evidently  considering  how  to  act.  He  then 
stretched  his  proboscis  in  a  straight  line  as  far  as  he  could,  a 
little  distance  above  the  coin,  and  blew  with  great  force  against 
the  wall.  The  angle  produced  by  the  opposition  of  the  wall 
made  the  current  of  air  act  under  the  coin,  as  he  evidently  sup- 
posed  it  would;  and  it  was  curious  to  observe  the   sixpence 


ELEPHANTS  MINDING  THE  BABY.  6M 

traveling  toward  the  animal  till  it  came  within  his  reach,  and 
he  picket!  it  up. 

A  soldier  in  India,  who  had  frequently  carried  an  elephant 
some  arrack,  being  one  day  intoxicated,  and  seeing  himself  pur- 
sued by  the  guard,  whose  orders  were  to  conduct  him  to  prison, 
took  refuge  under  the  elephant.  The  guard  soon  finding  his 
retreat,  attempted  in  vain  to  take  him  from  his  asylum,  for  the 
elephant  vigorously  defended  him  with  his  trunk. 

As  soon  as  the  soldier  became  sober,  and  saw  himself  placed 
under  such  an  unwieldy  animal,  he  was  so  terrified  that  he 
scarcely  durst  move  either  hand  or  foot;  but  the  elephant  soon 
caused  his  fears  to  subside  by  caressing  him  with  his  trunk,  and 
thus  tacitly  saying,  "  Depart  in  peace." 

A  pleasing  anecdote  is  related  of  an  elephant  which  was  the 
property  of  the  nabob  of  Lucknow.  There  was  in  that  city 
an  epidemic  disorder,  making  dreadful  havoc  among  the  in- 
habitants. The  road  to  the  palace  gate  was  covered  with  the 
sick  and  dying,  lying  on  the  ground,  at  the  moment  the  nabob 
^vas  about  to  pass. 

Regardless  of  the  suffering  he  must  cause  the  nabob  held  on 
his  way,  not  caring  whether  his  beast  trod  upon  the  poor,  help- 
less creatures  or  not.  But  the  animal,  more  kind-hearted  than 
his  master,  carefully  cleared  the  path  of  the  poor,  helpless 
■wretches  as  he  went  along.  Some  he  lifted  with  his  trunk  en- 
tirely out  of  the  road.  Some  he  set  upon  their  feet,  and  among 
the  others  he  stepped  so  carefully  that  not  an  individual  wfts  in- 
jured. 

eiiBPHANTS  CQiNDING   THE   BABY. 

There  is  nothing  by  any  means  uncommon  or  incredible  in 
the  stories  which  have  been  reported,  says  Buckland,  about  the 
children  of  a  mahout  being  cared  for  by  the  mahout's  elephant. 
It  is  always  expedient  to  employ  a  married  mahout  if  you  can, 
with  a  hard-working  wife  and  two  or  three  children.  The 
whole  family  become,  as  it  were,  parasities  to  the  elephant  by 
whom  they  earn  their  living.  It  is  only  a  question  of  degree 
to  what  extent  an  elephant  may  be  trusted  with  a  baby;  but  I 
have  seen  a  baby  placed  by  its  mother  systematically  under  the 
elephant's  care,  and  within  reach  of  its  trunk,  whilst  the  mother 
went  to  fetch  water,  or  to  get  wood  or  materials  to  cook  the 


660  NATURAL  mSTORY. 

family  dinner.  No  jackal  or  wolf  would  be  likely  to  pick  up 
and  caiTy  oft'  a  baby  who  was  thus  confided  to  the  care  of  an 
elephant;  but  most  people  who  have  lived  a  life  in  the  jungles, 
know  how  very  possible  it  is  for  a  jackal  or  wolf  to  carry  off*  a 
baby,  even  when  lying  in  a  hut,  when  the  mother's  back  is 
turned.  The  children  thvis  brought  up  in  the  companionship 
of  an  elephant,  become  ridiculously  familiar  with  it,  and  take 
all  kinds  of  liberties  with  it,  which  the  elephant  seems  to  endure 
on  the  principle  that  it  does  not  hurt  her,  while  it  amuses  the 
child.  You  see  a  little  naked  black  imp  about  two  feet  high 
standing  on  the  elephant's  bare  back,  taking  it  down  to  the 
water  to  bathe,  vociferating  all  the  time  in  the  most  unbecom- 
ing terms  of  native  abusive  language.  On  arriving  at  the  water 
the  elephant,  ostensibly  in  obedience  to  the  imp's  command,  lies 
down  and  enjoys  itself,  just  leaving  a  part  of  its  body,  like  a 
small  island,  above  water,  on  which  the  small  imp  stands  and 
shouts,  and  shouts  all  the  more  if  so  be  that  he  has  several 
companions  of  his  own  age  also  in  charge  of  their  elephants, 
all  wallowing  in  the  water  around  him.  If  the  imp  slips  ofT 
his  island  the  elephant's  trunk  promptly  replaces  him  in  safety. 
These  little  urchins,  as  they  grow  up,  first  become  mates  to 
mahouts,  and  eventually  arrive  at  the  dignity  of  being  mahouts. 
The  wife  of  a  mahout  is  almost  always  a  great  favorite  with 
her  elephant,  and  I  remember  a  case  in  which  the  wife  of  a 
mahout  who  was  killed  by  his  elephant  (I  believe  more  by  ac- 
cident than  from  actual  malice),  succeeded  in  quieting  the 
beast,  which  seemed  to  understand  the  poor  woman's  anguish 
at  the  death  of  her  husband,  and  endeavored  in  its  elephantine 
way  to  make  amends  for  its  offense.  It  is  nothing  new  to  say 
that  the  elephant  is  the  most  sagacious  of  animals,  and  those 
who  have  most  to  do  with  them  cannot  help  liking  and  admir- 
ing them. 

f^  Famous  €LBPHANiit. 

Among  the  elephants  which  have  died  at  the  Zoological  Gar- 
dens was  Chunee,  who  was  sold  for  cat's  meat,  a  large  In- 
dian elephant,  which  was  lodged  in  a  thatched  barn  within  a 
w^ooden  inclosure  that  he  used  to  attack  vigorously.  Chunee, 
smaller  than  Jumbo,  was  bought  in  1810  for  nine  hundred 
guineas.     He   had   been   an  actor  at  Covent  Garden  Theatre 


THE  LION.  661 

prior  to  his  joining  the  menagerie  at  Exeter  Change — a  collec> 
tion  of  old  houses  in  the  Strand,  with  a  passage  underneath. 
In  1826  it  was  realized  that  he  had  outgrown  his  den,  and  it 
was  feared  that  in  his  anger  he  would  smash  up  his  cage  and 
bring  the  whole  concern  to  grief.  So  the  fiat  went  forth  that 
he  was  to  be  shot.  The  guard  of  Somerset  House  aided  in  the 
murder,  and  Mr.  Herring,  of  the  menagerie  in  the  New  Road, 
led  the  firing  party.  One  hundred  and  fifty  bullets  were  re- 
quired to  do  for  Chunee  what  is  feared  a  draught  might  do  for 
*'  Old  Tongue,"  as  the  white  elephant  is  called, 

©HE   LlION. 

The  lion  is  an  animal  of  the  cat  kind,  and  from  his  great 
strength  and  courage  is  called  the  King  of  Beasts.  His  strength 
is  indeed  prodigious.  There  are  few  animals  that  he  cannot 
master.  The  elephant,  the  tiger,  and  the  rhinoceros  are  said  to 
be  the  only  ones  that  can  withstand  him. 

The  head,  neck,  and  shoulders  of  the  lion  are  very  large.  His 
hinder  parts  are  comparatively  small.  His  neck  is  furnished 
with  a  thick,  shaggy  mane.  His  height  is  from  three  to  four 
feet,  and  his  length  from  six  to  nine  feet.  His  color  is  a  yellow- 
ish red,  but  the  mane  is  dark-colored  and  sometimes  black. 

The  lion  roams  about  in  the  forests,  sometimes  uttering  a  roar 
so  loud  that  it  sounds  like  distant  thunder.  He  crouches  in 
thickets,  where  buffaloes  and  other  animals  come  for  food  and 
drink,  and  when  one  of  them  is  near  he  springs  upon  it  with  a 
furious  bound,  and,  seizing  it  in  his  strong  claws,  tears  it  in 
pieces  and  devours  sometimes  flesh  and  bones  together.  He 
usually  seeks  his  prey  in  the  night,  and  is  sly  and  skulking  like 
the  cat  in  his  method  of  pursuing  other  animals. 

The  lion  is  a  native  of  most  parts  of  Africa  and  the  southern 
part  of  Asia.  In  the  hottest  climates  he  grows  to  the  greatest 
size  and  displays  the  fiercest  qualities.  He  sometimes  lives  to 
the  age  of  seventy  years  or  more. 

In  the  southern  part  of  Africa  lions  are  very  common,  and 
the  adventures  of  the  inhabitants  with  them  are  very  frequent. 
An  anecdote  is  related  of  a  settler  in  the  back  districts  of  the 
Cape  of  Good  Hope,  which  illustrates  the  ferocity  and  courage 
of  the  lion,  as  well  as  the  dangers  to  which  those  are  exposed 
who  live  in  the  countries  inhabited  by  this  animal. 


662  NATURAL  HISTOIiY. 

A  hunter,  returning  one  day  with  some  friends  from  an  ex- 
cursion, suddenly  came  upon  two  large,  full-grown  lions. 
Their  horses  were  already  jaded,  and  the  utmost  consternation 
for  a  moment  seized  them.  They  immediately  saw  that  their 
only  hope  of  safety  lay  in  separation.  They  started  in  some- 
what different  directions  at  the  top  of  their  speed,  holding  their 
rifles  on  the  cock. 

Those  who  were  most  lightly  loaded  inade  good  their  escape, 
but  our  hunter  was  left  behind,  and  as  his  companions  disap- 
peared below  the  brow  of  the  hill  the  two  beasts  came  directly 
after  him.  He  quickly  loosed  a  deer  which  was  tied  to  his  sad- 
dle, but  the  prey  was  not  sufficient  to  distract  them  from  their 
purpose. 

Happily,  as  was  his  custom,  both  barrels  of  his  piece  were 
loaded  with  ball,  a  most  timely  precaution  in  that  country,  and 
he  was  a  good  marksman.  Turning  for  a  moment,  he  leveled 
his  gun  with  as  much  precision  as  at  such  a  time  he  could  com- 
mand, and  fired.  He  waited  not  for  the  result,  but  again  scam- 
pered oft'  as  quickly  as  his  horse  could  carry  him,  but  he  heard 
behind  him  a  deep,  short,  and  outrageous  roar,-  and,  as  was  af- 
terward found,  one  of  them  was  killed.  His  work,  however, 
was  but  half  done. 

The  time  he  had  lost  was  sufficient  to  bring  the  other  within 
reach,  and  with  a  tremendous  bound  he  leaped  upon  the  horse's 
back,  lacerating  it  in  a  dreadful  manner,  but  missed  his  hold,  for 
the  poor  creature,  mad  with  agony  and  fear,  kicked  with  all  its 
force  and  hurried  on  with  increased  rapidity.  A  second  attempt 
was  more  successful,  and  the  hunter  was  shaken  from  his  seat. 
The  horse,  however,  again  escaped. 

The  poor  fellow  gave  himself  up  for  lost,  but  he  was  a  brave 
man,  and  he  determined  to  sell  his  life  as  dearly  as  possible. 
Escape  he  saw  was  hopeless;  so  planting  himself  with  the  en- 
ergy of  despair,  he  put  his  rifle  hastily  to  his  shoulder,  and,  just 
as  the  lion  was  stooping  for  his  spring,  he  fired.  He  was  a  little 
too  late.  The  beast  had  moved,  and  the  ball  did  not  prove  so 
effective  as  he  had  hoped.  It  entered  the  side  of  the  wild 
beast,  though  it  did  him  no  mortal  harm,  and  he  leaped  at  his 
victim. 

The  shot  had  nevertheless  delayed  his  bound  for  an  instant, 
and  the  hunter  avoided  its  effect  by  a  rapid  jump,  and  with  the 


THE  LION.  663 

butt  end  of  his  gun  struck  at  the  lion  with  all  his  power  as  he 
turned  upon  him.  The  dreadful  creature  seized  it  with  his  teeth, 
but  with  such  force  that  instead  of  twisting  it  out  of  the  hunter's 
hand  he  broke  it  short  off  by  the  barrel. 

The  hunter  immediately  attacked  him  again,  but  his  weapon 
was  too  short,  and  the  lion,  fixing  his  claws  in  his  breast  and 
tearing  ofl'  his  flesh,  endeavored  to  gripe  his  shoulder  with  his 
mouth.  The  gun-barrel  was  of  excellent  service.  Driving  it 
into  the  mouth  of  the  beast  with  all  his  strength,  he  seized  one 
of  the  creature's  jaws  with  his  left  hand,  and  what  with  the 
strength  and  energy  given  by  the  dreadful  circumstances,  and 
the  purchase  obtained  by  the  gun-barrel,  he  succeeded  in  split- 
ting the  animal's  mouth. 

At  the  same  time  they  fell  together  on  their  sides,  and  a  strug- 
gle for  several  minutes  ensued  upon  the  ground.  Blood  flowed 
freely  in  the  lion's  mouth  and  nearly  choked  him.  His  mo- 
tions were  thus  so  frustrated  that  the  hunter  was  upon  his  feet 
first,  and,  aiming  a  blow  with  all  his  might,  he  knocked  out  one 
of  the  lion's  eyes. 

The  lion  roared  terribly  with  pain  and  rage,  and,  during  the 
moments  of  delay  caused  by  the  loss  of  his  eye,  the  hunter  got 
behind  him  and,  animated  by  his  success,  hit  him  a  dreadful 
stroke  upon  the  back  of  the  neck,  which  he  knew  was  the  most 
tender  part.  The  stroke,  however,  appeared  to  have  no  eflect, 
for  the  lion  immediately  leaped  at  him  again,  but  it  is  supposed 
from  a  defect  of  the  vision  occasioned  by  the  loss  of  his  eye  in- 
stead of  coming  down  upon  the  hunter  he  leaped  beside  him, 
and  shook  his  head  as  if  from  excess  of  pain. 

The  hunter  felt  his  strength  rapidly  declining,  but  the  agony 
he  endured  enraged  him,  and  with  new  power  he  struck  the 
lion  again  across  the  eyes.  The  beast  fell  backward,  but  drew 
the  hunter  with  him  with  his  paw,  and  another  struggle  took 
place  upon  the  ground.  The  gun-barrel  was  his  only  safe- 
guard. Rising  up  from  the  ground  in  terrible  pain,  and  with  a 
powerful  effort,  he  managed  to  thrust  it  into  the  throat  of  the 
lion  with  all  his  might. 

That  thrust  was  fatal,  and  the  huge  animal  fell  on  his  side 
powerless.  The  hunter  dragged  himself  to  a  considerable  dis- 
tance, and  then  fell  exhausted  and  senseless.  His  fiiends  shortly 
afterward  returned  to  hijs  assistance,  and  found  the  two  lions 


664  NATURAL  HISTORY. 

dead  at  no  great  distance  from  each  other.  The  hunter  recov- 
ered from  his  wounds  and  hved,  one  of  the  most  memorable 
instances  of  escape  on  record. 

flDYBNTUr^B   WIIUH   A   IXIONBSS. 

A  portion  of  the  crew  of  a  ship  which  was  anchored  off  the 
coast  of  India  once  went  ashore  for  the  purpose  of  cutting 
some  wood,  and  one  of  the  sailors,  having  through  some  cause 
become  separated  from  his  companions,  was  considerably  fright- 
ened by  the  appearance  of  a  huge  lioness  which  he  saw  ap- 
proaching him.  Much  to  his  surprise,  however,  she  did  not  on 
coming  up  appear  to  have  an  evil  design  upon  him,  but  instead 
crouched  at  his  feet  and  looked  steadfastly  first  at  his  face  and 
then  at  a  tree  some  little  distance  away.  For  a  time  the  man 
could  not  understand  this  conduct;  but  presently,  on  the  lioness 
rising  and  walking  toward  the  tree,  looking  back  at  him  as  she 
went,  he  found  what  it  meant.  Up  in  the  branches  of  a  tree 
was  a  large  baboon  with  two  little  lion  cubs  in  its  arms,  and  it 
was  because  of  this  that  the  lioness  was  in  such  trouble.  The 
difficulty  now  presented  itself  of  how  to  save  the  cubs,  for  the 
sailor  was  afraid  to  climb  the  tree.  So,  having  his  ax  with  him, 
he  resolved  to  cut  down  the  tree,  and  this  he  did,  the  lioness 
watching  him  most  anxiously  during  the  whole  time.  When 
the  tree  fell,  and  the  three  animals  with  it,  the  lioness,  it  is  said, 
dashed  with  fury  upon  the  baboon  and  destroyed  it.  Then, 
having  gently  caressed  her  cubs  for  some  time,  she  returned  to 
the  sailor,  showed  her  gratitude  by  fawning  upon  him  and  rub- 
bing her  head  fondly  against  him,  and  at  length  carried  away 
her  offspring  one  by  one. 

She  Gii^appe,  oi^  ©amelopaf^d. 

The  giraffe  is  a  native  of  Africa.  It  is  of  singular  shape  and 
size,  and  bears  some  resemblance  both  to  the  camel  and  the 
deer.  The  mouth  is  small,  the  eyes  are  full  and  brilliant,  the 
tongue  is  rough,  very  long,  and  terminating  in  a  point.  The 
neck  is  extremely  long  and  slender,  and  from  the  shoulder  to 
the  top  of  the  head  it  measures  between  seven  and  eight  feet, 
from  the  ground  to  the  top  of  the  shoulder  is  commonly  ten 
or  eleven  feet,  so  that  the  height  of  a  full-grown  giraffe  is  sev- 
enteen or  eighteen  feet. 


THE  GIRAFFE,  OR  CAMELOPARD.  665 

The  hair  is  of  a  deep  brown  color  in  the  male  and  of  a  light 
or  yellowish  brown  in  the  female.  The  skin  is  beautifully  di- 
versified with  white  spots.  They  have  short,  obtuse  horns,  and 
hoofs  resembling  those  of  the  ox.  In  their  wild  state  they  feed 
on  the  leaves  of  a  species  of  the  mimosa,  a  gum-bearing  tree 
peculiar  to  warm  climates. 

The  giraffe  (like  the  horse  and  other  hoofed  animals)  defends 
tself  by  kicking,  and  its  hinder  limbs  are  so  light  and  its  blows 
so  rapid  that  the  eye  cannot  follow  them.  They  are  sufficient 
for  its  defense  against  the  lion.  It  never  employs  its  horns  in 
resisting  the  attacks  of  an  enemy.  Its  disposition  is  gentle,  and 
it  flees  to  its  native  forest  upon  the  least  alarm. 

Le  Vaillant,  the  celebrated  French  traveler  and  naturalist, 
was  the  first  who  gave  us  any  precise  account  of  the  form  and 
habits  of  the  giraffe.  While  he  was  traveling  in  South  Africa 
h^  happened  one  day  to  discover  a  hut  covered  with  the  skin  of 
one  of  these  animals,  and  learned,  to  his  surprise,  that  he  was 
now  in  a  part  of  the  country  which  this  creature  inhabited. 
He  could  not  rest  contented  until  he  had  seen  the  animal  alive 
and  secured  a  specimen. 

Having  on  several  successive  days  obtained  sight  of  some  of 
them,  he,  with  his  attendants,  on  horseback  and  accompanied 
with  dogs,  gave  chase;  but  they  baffled  all  pursuit.  After  a 
chase  of  a  whole  day,  which  effected  nothing  but  the  fatigue 
of  the  party,  he  began  to  despair  of  success. 

"The  next  day,"  says  he,  "by  sunrise  I  was  in  pursuit  of  game 
in  the  hope  of  obtaining  some  provisions  for  my  men.  After 
several  hours'  fatigue  we  descried  at  the  turn  of  a  hill  seven 
^iraflfes,  which  my  pack  of  dogs  instantly  pursued.  Six  of 
them  went  off*  together,  but  the  seventh,  cut  off"  by  my  dogs, 
took  another  way. 

"  I  followed  the  single  one  at  full  speed,  but  in  spite  of  the 
efforts  of  my  horse  she  got  so  much  ahead  of  me  that  in  turn- 
ing a  little  hill  I  lost  sight  of  her  altogether,  and  I  gave  up  the 
pursuit.  My  dogs,  however,  were  not  so  easily  exhausted. 
They  were  soon  so  close  upon  her  that  she  was  obliged  to  stop 
and  defend  herself.  From  the  noise  they  made  I  conjectured 
that  they  had  got  the  animal  into  a  corner,  and  I  again  pushed 
forward. 

"  I  had  scarcely  got  round  the  hill  when  I  perceived  her  sur- 


666  NATURAL  HISTORY. 

rounded  by  the  dogs,  and  endeavoring  to  drive  them  away  bv 
heavy  kicks.  In  a  moment  I  was  ori  my  feet,  and  a  shot  from 
my  carbine  brought  her  to  the  earth.  I  was  transported  with 
my  victory.  I  was  now  able  to  add  to  the  riches  of  natural  his- 
tory; I  was  now  able  to  destroy  the  romance  which  attached  to 
this  animal,  and  to  establish  the  truth  of  its  existence." 

STOI^IES  ABOUIP    THE    BEAI^. 

The  American  black  bear  lives  a  solitary  life  in  the  forests 
and  uncultivated  deserts,  and  subsists  on  fruits  and  on  the  young 
shoots  and  roots  of  vegetables.  He  is  exceedingly  fond  of 
honey,  and  as  he  is  a  most  expert  climber  he  scales  the  loftiest 
trees  in  search  of  it.  He  delights  in  fish,  and  is  often  found  in 
quest  of  them  on  the  borders  of  lakes  and  on  the  seashore. 
When  these  resources  fail  he  will  attack  small  quadrupeds  and 
even  animals  of  some  magnitude.  Indeed,  as  is  usual  in  such 
cases,  the  love  of  flesh  in  him  grows  with  the  use  of  it. 

The  bear  chiefly  adopts  for  his  retreat  the  hollow  trunk  of 
some  old  tree.  The  hunter,  whose  business  it  is  to  watch  him  in 
his  retreat,  climbs  a  neighboring  tree  and  seats  himself  opposite 
to  the  hole.  In  one  hand  he  holds  his  gun,  and  in  the  other  a 
torch  which  he  darts  into  the  cavity.  Frantic  with  rage  and 
terror,  the  bear  makes  a  spring  from  his  station,  but  the  hunter 
improves  the  inoment  of  his  appearance  and  shoots  him. 

The  pursuit  of  these  animals  is  a  matter  of  the  first  impor- 
tance to  some  of  the  Indian  tribes,  and  is  never  imdertaken 
without  much  ceremony.  A  23rinci23al  warrior  gives  a  general 
invitation  to  all  the  hunters.  This  is  followed  by  a  strict  fast 
of  eight  days,  in  which  they  abstain  from  food,  but  during 
which  the  day  is  j^assed  in  continual  song. 

When  they  arrive  at  the  hunting-ground  they  surround  as 
large  a  space  as  they  can,  and  then  contract  their  circle,  search- 
ing at  the  same  time  every  hollow  tree  and  every  place  capable 
of  being  the  retreat  of  a  bear,  and  they  continue  the  same  prac- 
tice till  the  chase  is  expiixd. 

As  soon  as  a  bear  is  killed  a  hunter  puts  into  his  mouth  a 
lighted  pipe  of  tobacco,  and  blowing  into  it  fills  the  throat  with 
the  smoke,  conjuring  the  spirit  of  the  animal  not  to  resent  what 
they  were  about  to  do  to  his  body,  or  to  render  their  future 
chase  unsuccessful. 


STORIES  ABOUT  THE  REAR.  C67 

As  the  beast  makes  no  reply,  they  cut  the  string  of  the  tongue 
and  throw  it  into  the  fire.  If  it  crackle  and  shrivel  up  (which 
it  is  almost  sure  to  do),  they  accept  this  as  a  good  omen;  if  not, 
they  consider  that  the  spirit  of  the  bear  is  not  appeased,  and 
that  the  chase  of  the  next  year  will  be  unfortunate. 

Some  years  since,  when  the  western  part  of  New  York  was 
in  a  state  of  nature,  and  wolves  and  bears  were  not  afraid  of 
being  seen,  some  enterprising  settler  had  erected  and  put  in 
operation  a  saw-mill  on  the  banks  of  the  Genesee. 

One  day,  as  he  was  sitting  on  a  log,  eating  his  bread  and 
cheese,  a  large  black  bear  came  from  the- woods  toward  the 
mill.  The  man,  leaving  his  luncheon  on  the  log,  made  a  spring 
and  seated  himself  on  a  beam  above,  when  the  bear,  mounting 
the  log,  sat  down  with  his  back  toward  the  saw,  which  was  in 
operation,  and  commenced  satisfying  his  appetite  on  the  man's 
dinner. 

After  a  little  while  the  saw  progressed  enough  to  interfere 
with  the  fur  on  bruin's  back,  and  he  hitched  along  a  little  and 
kept  on  eating.  Again  the  saw  came  up  and  scratched  a  little 
flesh.  The  bear  then  whirled  round  and  throwing  his  paws 
around  the  saw,  held  on  till  he  was  mangled  through  and 
through,  when  he  rolled  off  and  fell  into  the  flood. 

The  grizzly  bear,  like  the  American  black  bear,  inhabits  the 
northern  part  of  America;  but,  unlike  him,  he  is  perhaps  the 
most  formidable  of  all  bears  in  magnitude  and  ferocity.  He 
averages  twice  the  bulk  of  the  black  bear,  to  which,  however, 
he  has  some  resemblance.  His  teeth  are  of  great  size  and 
power.  His  feet  are  enormously  large.  The  talons  sometimes 
measure  more  than  six  inches. 

The  neighborhood  of  the  Rocky  Mountains  is  one  of  the 
principal  haunts  of  this  animal.  There,  amid  woods  and  plains 
and  tangled  copses  of  boughs  and  underwood,  he  reigns  as  much 
the  monarch  as  the  lion  is  of  the  sandy  wastes  of  Africa.  Even 
the  bison  cannot  withstand  his  attack.  Such  is  his  muscular 
strength  that  he  will  drag  this  ponderous  animal  to  a  convenient 
spot,  where  he  digs  a  pit  for  his  reception. 

The  Indians  regard  him  with  the  utmost  terror.  His  extreme 
tenacity  of  life  renders  him  still  more  dangerous,  for  he  can  en- 
dure repeated  wounds,  which  would  be  instantaneously  mortal 
to  other  beasts,  and  in  that  state  can  rapidly  pursue  his  enemy; 


€68  NATURAL  HISTORY. 

so  that  the  hunter  who  fails  to  shoot  him  through  the  brain  is 
placed  in  a  most  perilous  situation. 

One  evening  the  men  in  the  hindmost  of  one  of  Lewis  and 
Clark's  canoes  perceived  one  of  these  bears  lying  in  the  open 
ground  about  three  hundred  paces  from  the  river,  and  six  of 
them,  who  were  all  good  hunters,  went  to  attack  him.  Con- 
cealing themselves  by  a  small  eminence,  they  were  able  to  ap- 
proach within  forty  paces  unperceived.  Four  of  the  hunters 
now  fired,  and  each  lodged  a  ball  in  his  body,  two  of  which 
passed  directly  thi-ough  the  lungs. 

The  bear  sprang  up  and  ran  furiously  with  open  mouth  upon 
them.  Two  of  the  hunters,  who  had  reserved  their  fire,  gave 
him  two  additional  wounds,  and  one  breaking  his  shoulder- 
blade  somewhat  retarded  his  motions.  Before  they  could  again 
load  their  guns  he  came  so  close  on  them  that  they  were 
obliged  to  run  toward  the  river,  and  before  they  had  gained  it 
the  bear  had  almost  overtaken  them. 

Two  men  jumped  into  the  canoe,  the  other  four  separated, 
and  concealing  themselves  among  the  willows  fired  as  fast  as 
they  could  load  their  pieces.  Several  times  the  bear  was  struck, 
but  each  shot  seemed  to  direct  his  fury  toward  the  hunter.  At 
last  he  pursued  them  so  closely  that  they  threw  aside  their  guns 
and  pouches  and  jumped  from  a  perpendicular  bank  twentv 
feet  high  into  the  river. 

The  bear  sprang  after  them,  and  was  very  near  the  hindmost 
man,  when  one  of  the  hunters  on  the  shore  shot  him  through 
the  head  and  finally  killed  him.  When  they  dragged  him  on 
shore  they  found  that  eight  balls  had  passed  through  his  body 
in  different  directions. 

On  another  occasion  the  same  enterprising  ti'avelers  met  with 
the  largest  bear  of  this  species  they  had  ever  seen.  When  they 
fired  he  did  not  attempt  to  attack,  but  fled  with  a  tremendous 
roar,  and  such  was  his  tenacity  of  life  that,  although  five  balls 
had  passed  through  the  lungs  and  five  other  wounds  were  in- 
flicted, he  swam  more  than  half  across  the  river  to  a  sand-bar, 
and  survived  more  than  twenty  minutes. 

An  old  Western  hunter,  in  relating  his  experience  while 
hunting  grizzly  bear,  said  that  he  could  feel  his  hair  rise  on  end 
the  first  time  he  ever  encountered  one.  They  are  now  getting 
so  scarce  as  to  be  seldom  seen  by  white  men. 


AN  EGG-LAYING  MAMMAL.  66^ 

fiN    €GG-LAYING    CQAMMAIi 

One  of  the  most  important  discoveries,  certainly  of  this  dec- 
ade, says  the  New  York  Evening  Post,  in  the  annals  of  biology, 
was  announced  by  Prof  Mosely  at  the  recent  meeting  of  the 
British  Association  for  the  Advancement  of  Science.  While 
the  section  of  biology  was  holding  its  last  session,  a  dispatch 
was  received  from  Prof.  Liversedge,  of  Sidney,  saying  that  Mr. 
Caldwell,  who  had  gone  to  Australia  to  study  its  peculiar  mam- 
malial  fiiuna,  had  made  the  discovery  that  the  Monotremes  were 
oviparous,  or  egg-layers. 

The  details  of  this  important  discovery  will  be  awaited  with 
great  interest,  and  perhaps  to  many  naturalists  the  announce- 
ment did  not  cause  surprise,  especially  to  those  who  are  familiar 
with  the  anatomy  of  the  curious  animals  in  question.  Scientif- 
ically they  are  known  as  the  Monotremes,  and  constitute  the 
group  Ornithodelphi  that  comprises  a  single  order,  Monotremata, 
the  lowest  in  the  great  branch  of  mammals.  The  Ornithorhynch- 
idce  and  the  Echidnidce  constitute  the  two  families,  and  the  ani- 
mals are  best  known  as  the  duck-bill  and  the  spiny  ant-eater. 

They  are  peculiar  to  the  Australian  continent  and  New 
Guinea,  and  in  their  general  appearance  are  the  most  remark- 
able of  all  mammals.  When  the  first  specimen  was  received  in 
England  many  years  ago,  it  was  considered  the  work  of  some 
skilled  taxidermist  and  trickster.  The  creatures  attain  a  length 
of  about  twenty  inches.  The  body  is  long  and  flat,  in  shape 
something  like  that  of  the  otter,  the  fur  being  thick  and  fine 
and  generally  of  a  rich  brown  hue,  with  a  whitish  tint  under- 
neath. 

The  head  is  the  most  remarkable  feature.  Instead  of  a  mouth 
like  that  of  other  mammals,  there  is  a  perfect  bill,  like  that  of  a 
duck,  and  seemingly  composed  of  the  same  horny  substance, 
and  the  edges  are  provided  with  transversal  plates.  Teeth  the 
duck-bill  possesses,  though  of  a  novel  kind,  being  placed  in  the 
back  part  of  the  mouth,  two  upon  each  side,  the  tops  flat — in 
fact,  the  place  of  teeth  seems  to  be  supplied  functionally  by  cu- 
rious horny  structures  that  form  a  part  of  the  beak.  The  tail 
of  the  duck-bill  is  flat  and  obtuse,  and  the  feet  show  many  pe- 
culiarities that  seem  to  connect  it  with  the  birds.  It  is  adapted 
for  swimming,  the  toes  being  webbed,  the  hinder  set  being 


670  NATURAL  HISTORY. 

strongl}'  clawed,  while  in  the  fore-feet  the  interdigital  membrane 
extends  beyond  them. 

In  the  internal  organization  of  the  duck-bill  we  find  still  other 
characteristics  that  call  to  mind  the  birds  and  reptiles.  Thus 
the  sternum  is  keeled,  and  there  are  no  sternal  osseous  ribs  as 
in  birds.  Another  point  of  resemblance  is  that  the  transverse 
processes  of  the  cervical  vertebras  are  of  autogenous  formation, 
and  remain  closely  connected  with  the  remainder  of  the  verte- 
brae until  the  animal  attains  its  full  growth.  As  in  the  skulls 
of  adult  birds,  the  sutures  are  entirely  obliterated,  and,  more 
remarkable  yet,  the  openings  of  all  the  excretive  organs  empty 
into  a  common  cloaca. 

Finally,  it  is  found  by  Mr.  Caldwell  that  these  animals  are 
oviparous,  or  lay  eggs — a  fact  that  shows  them  to  be  nearly  al- 
lied to  the  reptiles.  Yet  they  ai^e  milk-givers,  the  young  duck- 
bill obtaining  its  milk  supply  not  from  a  teat,  but  from  a  num- 
ber of  scattered  pores  on  a  plane  surface  that  leads  to  the  lacteal 
ducts.  The  young  probably  escape  from  the  eggs  soon  after 
they  are  laid,  as  Bennett  discovered  three  in  a  subterranean  nest 
that  were  about  two  inches  in  length. 

We  record  the  above  interesting  discovery  in  the  scientific 
terms  in  which  we  find  it,  and  which  will  require  some  ac- 
quaintance with  zoology  to  understand.  Should  the  discovery 
be  found  to  be  what  it  appears,  the  mammal  will  become  one 
of  the  most  interesting  curiosities  of  natural  history.    . 

©HE  OTTBI^. 
Though  not  a  large  animal,  the  otter  is  a  terrible  and  untiring 
foe  to  fish.  It  possesses  a  very  dainty  palate,  and  will  take  care 
to  choose  the  finest  fish  that  can  be  found  in  the  streams  which 
it  frequents.  It  will  often  kill  several  fish  and  eat  a  small  por- 
tion of  each,  leaving  the  remainder  on  the  bank  to  be  eaten  by 
other  animals  which  delight  in  such  food.  When  di'iven  by 
hunger  the  otter  often  travels  several  miles  for  food.  If  it  can- 
not procure  its  usual  meal  it  has  been  known  to  visit  farm-yards 
and  destroy  poultry,  lambs,  and  so  forth.  The  body  of  the  otter 
is  flexible  and  serpent-like.  Its  toes  are  joined  together  by  a 
broad  web,  which  give  the  animals  great  jDower  in  moving 
through  the  water.  Its  legs  are  short  and  strong,  and  they  are 
so  loosely  joined  that  the  animals  can  turn  them  in  almost  any 


AFRICAN  ANTELOPES.  671 

direction.  The  total  length  of  the  otter  does  not  exceed  three 
and  a  half  feet,  and  its  weight  about  twenty  to  twenty-five 
pounds.  Its  fur  is  handsome  and  warm,  and  it  is  useful  for 
many  purposes.  The  otter  is  a  fierce  fighter,  and  will  never 
yield  while  it  has  life.  Few  dogs  can  conquer  an  otter  in  a 
single  fight,  so  that  a  combat  is  generally  ended  by  the  hunter 
piercing  the  animal  with  his  spear.  It  is  stated  that  the  otter 
has  often  been  tamed  and  trained  to  sport  with.  A  gentleman 
in  the  North  owned  one  which  was  trained  with  much  success. 
It  had  been  caught  when  a  few  weeks  old,  and  it  was  brought 
up  by  a  dog.  In  course  of  time  the  animal  became  very  apt, 
and  soon  acted  as  a  fisherman,  often  succeeding  in  getting  fish 
when  the  anglers  were  unable  to  do  so.  The  way  to  tame  an 
otter  is  very  simple.  It  is  by  degrees  weaned  from  its  usual 
fish-food,  and  taught  to  live  on  bread  and  milk.  A  toy  fish, 
made  of  leather,  is  given  to  the  animal  to  play  with,  and  it  is 
taught  to  plunge  into  the  water  after  its  toy  and  bring  it  ashore. 
On  giving  up  the  toy  fish  to  its  master  the  animal  is  rewarded 
with  a  dainty  morsel,  which  its  teacher  keeps  in  his  hand.  By 
this  means  it  soon  learns  to  be  useful  in  bringing  ashore  real  fish 
at  its  master's  bidding. 

The  South  African  antelopes,  known  as  springboks,  migrate 
in  immense  herds.  Sir  Gordon  Gumming,  while  traveling  in 
Zululand,  was  aroused  before  daybreak  one  morning  by  the 
sound  of  «  passing  herd.  The  mass  of  animals  was  about  half 
a  mile  in  breadth.  This  great  army,  not  in  lines,  but  packed 
in  an  unbroken  phalanx,  marched  by  for  more  than  two  hours. 
Nothing  can  stay  the  onward  sweep  except  the  sea  or  a  steep 
mountain-wall.  On  one  occasion  a  flock  of  sheep  strayed  into 
the  line  of  march.  In  a  few  minutes  the  flock  was  overlapped, 
and  it  was  borne  away  in  the  midst  of  the  army.  On  another 
occasion  a  fierce  lion,  crouching  behind  a  rock,  sprang  upon  a 
springbok  at  the  edge  of  the  line.  Miscalculating  his  leap,  the 
lion  fell  in  among  the  herd,  and  in  a  moment  he  was  a  prisoner. 
The  vast  herd  moved  on,  and  the  lion  had  either  to  march  with 
it  or  be  trampled  to  death.  When  the  herd  arrives  at  a  pasture 
the  antelopes  in  front  eat  until  they  can  eat  no  more.  Then 
they  fall  out  of  the  ranks,  and  chew  the  cud  until  the  herd  has 


672  NATURAL  HISTORY. 

passed,  when  they  fall  in  at  the  rear,  and  gradually  work  their 
way  to  the  front  again.  They  can  exist  for  months  without 
water. 

IlONGBYirpY   OP   05lLD  fiNIMALS. 

Two  hippopotamuses  have  recently  died  in  the  London  Zoo- 
logical Garden.  One  was  twenty-seven  years  in  confinement, 
the  other  thirty;  but,  of  course,  their  actual  age  can  never  be 
known.  Indeed,  it  is  difficult  to  tell  whether  the  wild  animal 
lives  as  long  as  the  domestic  one.  At  one  time  the  test  was  the 
length  of  time  required  to  reach  maturity,  which,  it  was  as- 
sumed, bore  a  certain  proportion  to  the  life  of  the  creature. 
But  this  does  not  hold  good  with  even  the  larger  mammalia, 
for  a  horse,  assuming  it  to  be  mature  at  four  years,  will  live  to 
five  or  six  "maturities,"  while  man,  presuming  him  to  be  mature 
at  twenty,  rarely  reaches  four.  Dogs  enjoy  a  greater  propor- 
tional longevity  than  mankind,  and  a  cat's  life  is  proverbially 
tenacious.  It  cannot  be  proved  that  even  wild  animals  have 
their  lives  shortened  by  confinement.  Indeed,  it  is  reasonable 
to  suppose  that  the  care  given  to  animals  in  menageries  prolongs 
their  existence.  The  civilized  man  certainly  lives  longer  than 
the  savage,  who  is  exposed  to  the  hardships  and  vicissitudes  of 
a  rough  outdoor  existence. 

f^OW  THE   CQONl^BY  FOUND  OUT. 

Monkeys  are  acute  observers.  So  are  most  children,  but  as 
they  grow  older,  the  habit  should  owe  itself  to  something  bet- 
ter than  appetite  or  mischief — the  monkey's  motive — and  be- 
come a  more  exalted  curiosity. 

A  writer  in  the  Wisconsin  Times  relates  an  amusing  example 
of  apish  perseverance  and  quick  deduction  that  many  might 
imitate  in  higher  enterprises  than  the  pursuit  of  sweetmeats: 

An  English  gentleman  was  traveling  in  India,  and  one  day, 
wishing  to  amuse  himself,  or  test  the  sagacity  of  animals,  he 
took  a  lump  of  sugar,  dropped  it  into  a  bottle,  corked  it  tight, 
then  gave  it  to  a  tame  monkey. 

The  monkey  inquisitively  examined  the  bottle  and  seemed  to 
know  that  the  white  lump  inside  was  good  to  eat,  but  not  hav- 
ing sense  enough  to  draw  the  cork,  it  tried  in  various  ways  to 
get  it  out.     Sometimes,  in  an  impulse  of  disgust,  it  would  throw 


SAVED  BY  AN  uliASG-OUTANG.  673 

the  bottle  away  out  of  its  own  reach,  then  refuse  to  be  com- 
forted till  it  was  given  back  to  it.  At  another  time  it  would  f>it 
with  a  countenance  of  the  most  intense  dejection,  comtemplat- 
ing  the  bottled  sugar,  and  then,  as  if  pulling  itself  together  for 
another  effort  at  solution,  would  sternly  take  up  the  bottle  afresh 
and  gaze  in  it.  It  would  tilt  it  up  one  way  and  try  to  drink  the 
sugar  out  of  the  neck,  and  then,  suddenly  reversing  it,  try  to 
catch  it  as  it  fell  to  the  bottom.  Again,  under  the  impression 
that  it  might  capture  the  sugar  by  surprise,  it  would  rasp  its 
teeth  against  the  glass  in  futile  bites,  and  warming  to  the  pur- 
suit of  the  revolving  lump,  would  almost  tie  itself  into  knots 
around  the  bottle. 

But  it  was  all  of  no  avail,  till  one  day  a  light  was  shed  upon 
the  problem  by  a  jar.  of  olives  falling  from  a  table  with  a  crash, 
and  the  fruit  rolling  about  in  all  directions. 

His  monkeyship  contemplated  the  catastrophe,  and  reasoned 
upon  it  with  the  seeming  intelligence  of  a  Humboldt.  Then, 
taking  the  bottle,  he  lifted  it  high  with  his  paws  and  brought  it 
down  on  the  floor  with  a  tremendous  noise,  smashing  the  glass 
into  fragments,  then  picking  up  the  sugar,  calmly  transferred 
it  to  his  mouth,  and  munched  it  with  much  satisfaction. 

Saved  by  an  Oj^ang-outang. 

A  nobleman  had  a  favorite  monkey,  a  large  orang-outang, 
which  you  know  is  the  largest  species  of  monkey,  except  the 
gorilla.  This  monkey  was  very  much  attached  to  his  master 
and  to  his  baby  boy,  who  was  the  pet  of  the  whole  family. 
One  day,  suddenly,  a  fire  broke  out  in  the  house,  and  everybody 
was  running  here  and  there  to  put  it  out,  while  the  little  boy  jn 
his  nursery  was  almost  forgotten;  and  when  they  thought  of 
him  the  staircase  was  all  in  flames.  What  could  be  done?  As 
they  were  looking  up  and  wondering,  a  large,  hairy  hand  and 
arm  opened  the  window,  and  presently  the  monkey  appeared 
with  the  baby  in  his  arms,  and  carefully  climbed  down  over  the 
porch,  and  brought  the  child  safely  to  his  nurse.  Nobody  else 
could  have  done  it,  for  a  man  cannot  climb  like  a  monkey,  and 
is  not  nearly  so  strong.  You  may  imagine  how  the  faithful 
creature  was  praised  and  petted  after  that. 

This  is  a  true  story,  and  the  child  who  was  saved  was  the 
young  Marquis  of  Kildare. 
43 


674  NATURAL  HISTORY. 

^  gUBBi^  IiiiTiitiiB  Beast. 

The  Norwegian  lemming  is  an  animal  about  the  size  of  a 
mouse.  It  lives  under  stones  in  the  summer,  under  snow  in 
the  winter.  It  hisses  and  bites.  About  once  in  ten  years  they 
immigrate  in  large  armies.  They  march  in  a  straight  line. 
They  cross  lakes  and  rivers.  They  go  through  haystacks 
rather  than  go  around.  Nothing  stops  them;  not  fire,  cas- 
cades, nor  swamps.  If  a  man  stands  in  the  way  they  will 
jump  at  him  as  high  as  his  knee.  If  struck  they  will  turn 
around  and  bark  and  bite  like  a  dog.  Foxes,  lynxes,  .owls, 
hawks,  and  weasels  will  follow  them  and  destroy  large  num- 
bers of  them,  but  it  does  not  check  them.  They  continue  their 
course  until  they  reach  the  sea,  into  which  they  plunge,  as  per- 
sistent and  progressive  as  ever,  until  the  waves  drown  and  ex- 
terminate them.  They  are  allied  to  the  rat  family,  and  in  many 
respects  resemble  the  rat  in  appearance. 

I^ATS   r^AVING   PUN. 

A  good  rat  story  is  told  by  a  lady  who  lives  in  Baltimore, 
which  shows  that  rats  have  a  kind  of  humor  about  them  at  times 
which  they  will  exercise  even  to  the  extent  of  forgetting  their 
plundering  propensities.  In  the  house  of  this  lady  was  a  child's 
rocking-horse,  and  every  night  the  rats  would  jump  on  the 
rocking-horse  and  start  it  rocking,  and  rock  it  for  hours,  seem- 
ingly with  the  greatest  enjoyment  in  the  world.  At  first,  hear- 
ing the  noise,  the  people  couldn't  imagine  the  cause,  and  didn't 
know  but  that  the  spirits  had  a  hand  in  it;  but  when  they  cau- 
tiously peered  out  and  saw  the  performance,  it  became  one  of 
the  marvels  of  the  neighborhood  to  see  the  rats  in  their  gam- 
bols, enjoying  themselves,  laughing,  and  having  their  fun  rock- 
ing the  horse. 

fl  GQadagasgai^  CQoni^ey. 

There  is  a  kind  of  monkey  in  Madagascar  that  throws  stones 
so  hard  and  well-aimed  that  the  natives  seldom  try  to  capture 
a  specimen,  but  one  has  been  brought  to  New  Haven,  where 
its  fierceness  in  flinging  whatever  missiles  it  can  get  hold  of 
causes  the  visitor  to  keep  at  a  respectful  distance  from  the 
cage. 


mm\m  ^  information. 

SgIBNGB  (SONiri^ASirBD  vsmth  ^r^Jj!. 


BY  W.  W.  BREESE. 


ENOUNCED  by  religious  bigots,  science 
has  yet  triumphed  over  every  foe,  and 
^^i©  risen  to  its  present  status,  acknowledged 
...J'  by  all  as  the  embodiment  of  that  law  by 
which  God  governs  the  universe.  It  occupies  the 
thoughts  of  the  greatest  Christian  scholars  and  com- 
mands the  respect  and  admiration  of  the  educated 
heathen.  It  has  existed  and  been  in  operation  from 
the  remotest  period  of  time,  although  made  manifest 
to  man's  finite  comprehension  in  modern  times  and 
to  a  limited  degree. 

The  term  philosophy  is  to  a  certain  extent,  but  not 
altogether,  coincident  with  science,  being  applied  to 
the  early  efforts  and  strainings  after  an  explanation 
of  the  universe  that  preceded  exact  science  in  any 
department.  Both  names  denote  the  pursuit  of 
knowledge  as  knowledge,  or  for  intellectual  satisfac- 
tion, in  contrast  to  the  search  that  is  limited  to  im- 
mediate practice  or  utility.  The  latter  is  more  prop- 
erly called  art.  The  development  of  art  must  neces- 
sarily precede  that  of  science.     Hence  we  would  use 

(675) 


G76  SCIENTIFIC  INFORMATION. 

the  expression,  The  art  of  observation  and  the  science 
of  application.  The  first  takes  heed  of  that  which 
appears  upon  the  surface,  or  is  readily  comprehended 
by  the  natural  senses  of  man.  The  latter  goes  be- 
yond mere  observation  of  natural  phenomena,  and 
seeks  the  original  cause  operating  for  the  production 
of  these  outward  phenomena. 

But  we  may  go  one  step  farther,  and  say  that 
science  could  not  exist  but  for  art.  In  other  words, 
the  comprehension  and  application  in  a  practical  and 
useful  manner  to  the  needs  of  man's  nature  of  the 
laws  of  God  could  not  be  made  but  for  the  existence 
of  art.  It  is  art  which  enables  us  to  grasp  and  make 
use  of  science.  This  leads  us  to  the  natural  defini- 
tion of  art  as  that  which  deals  with  man's  animal  or 
grosser  nature,  while  science  is  confined  to  his  spiritual 
or  intellectual  nature.  The  one  is  developed  and 
practiced  as  the  occasion  arises  and  the  daily  life  calls 
forth;  the  other  anticipates  the  needs  of  the  future, 
and  provides  for  an  improvement  of  methods  and  the 
betterment  of  man's  condition.  The  one  accepts  nat- 
ural phenomena  as  made  manifest  by  the  five  senses, 
and  the  other  seeks  the  source  of  these  manifestations 
in  order  that  they  may  be  utilized  to  better  advantage. 

Another  way  in  which  the  subject  presents  itself 
is  that  art  contributes  to  pleasure;  science  contributes 
to  utility  or  usefulness.  Art  asks,  "  What  will  look 
the  best?"  Science  asks,  "What  will  be  of  the  most 
use.''"  The  one  develops  in  the  line  of  pleasure,  the 
Other  in  the  Hne  of  order,  law,  and  steadfastness.  The 
one  is  temporary,  the  other  eternal. 

Art  is  very  largely  occupied  in  the  reproduction  of 
the    thoughts    of   others.     It   is    manifested    in    that 


SCIENCE  CONTRASTED  WITH  ART.  677 

scholarship  which  is  obtained  by  the  study  of  books 
and  writings  made  by  thinkers  who  have  preceded 
us.  It  gathers  up  the  observations  of  other  minds, 
whether  in  the  field  of  ancient  and  modern  language 
or  of  philosophy.  It  is  science  which  enables  us  to 
utilize  this  store  of  knowledge  to  the  production  of 
greater  happiness  and  prosperity  in  those  around  us. 
We  may  speak  of  the  art  of  memory,  but  of  the 
science  of  work.  We  practice  the  art  of  talking, 
but  it  needs  the  science  of  thought  to  give  our  words 
weight  and  command  attention.  We  develop  the  art 
of  conversation,  oratory,  writing;  we  cultivate  the 
science  of  mathematics,  morality,  and  philosophy. 
Art  is  the  manifestation  of  natural  phenomena; 
science  is  the  grouping  of  such  m^anifestations  so  as 
to  disclose  a  natural  law. 

Art,  therefore,  develops  by  practice,  becoming 
more  perfect  as  we  become  more  accustomed  to  it 
and  more  familiar  with  its  details;  science  opens  up 
to  our  comprehension  by  our  minds  growing  and  en- 
larging in  their  capacity  for  its  understanding;  but  it 
never  develops;  it  never  increases  in  size,  power,  or 
usefulness.  Science  has  existed  from  all  eternity,  and 
only  needs  for  art  to  call  it  forth  and  make  it  manifest 
to  the  mind  of  man,  and  put  in  operation  its  benefi- 
cent laws,  in  order  that  we  may  reap  its  incalculable 
blessings. 

We  speak  of  "  the  sciences  "  as  the  name  for  such 
portions  of  human  knowledge  as  have  been  more  or 
less  generalized,  systematized,  and  verified.  Gener- 
ality as  opposed  to  mere  particulars,  system  as  opposed 
to  random  arrangement,  and  verification  as  opposed  to 
looseness  of  assumption,  concur  in  that  superior  kind 


678  .      SCIENTIFIC  INFORMATION. 

of  knowledge  dignified  by  the  title  in  question.  Geog- 
raphy, chemistry,  and  political  economy  are  now 
sciences.  The  first  has  been  so  for  many  ages, 
although  greatly  advanced  in  recent  times;  the  two 
last  scarcely  more  than  a  century. 

Chemical  facts  and  maxims  of  political  economy 
had  been  known  from  a  much  earlier  date,  but  they 
did  not  in  either  case  amount  to  science;  the  gen- 
eralities were  few  or  bad  —  system  and  certainty 
were  both  wanting.  In  the  different  branches  of 
natural  history — mineralogy,  botany,  zoology — there 
had  been  a  large  store  of  accumulated  facts  before 
any  one  branch  could  be  called  a  science.  The 
quality  of  the  knowledge  is  of  more  consequence  than 
the  quantity  in  the  sciences. 

The  ordinary  and  accepted  definition  of  the  term 
Art  is  that  which  defines  the  beautiful  and  pleasura- 
ble, as  contrasted  with  that  which  may  be  termed  use- 
ful. An  artist  is  one  who  contributes  to  our  emotional 
nature's  enjoyment,  but  an  artisan  is  one  who  practices 
the  more  useful  and  common  arts  of  life.  Painting 
and  poetry  are  fine  arts;  agriculture,  navigation,  and 
medicine  are  useful  arts. 

The  great  end  of  art  is  to  give  pleasure  and  minister 
to  the  comfort  of  mankind;  but  this  kind  of  pleasure 
is  peculiar  and  circumscribed,  as  art  varies  in  its  man- 
ifestation and  degree.  There  are  many  of  our  enjoy- 
ments that  no  artist  would  ever  think  of  attempting 
to  provide.  The  gratifications  of  eating  and  drinking, 
of  exercise  and  repose,  warmth  and  coolness,  form  a 
class  in  contrast  with  the  pleasures  of  music,  sculpt- 
ure, and  the  drartia,  or  the  enjoyment  of  travel  and 
the  relief  of  pain.     It  is  a  matter  of  some  nicety  to 


SCIENCE  CONTRASTED  WITH  ART.  679 

draw  the  line  between  these  two  regions  of  our  pleas- 
urable susceptibility;  indeed,  it  is  not  clear  that  a  pre- 
cise line  can  be  drawn. 

The  eye  and  the  ear  are  the  chief  avenues  of  ar- 
tistic delight;  the  other  senses  are  more  or  less  in  the 
monopolist  interest.  Moreover,  one  important  feature 
in  the  somewhat  capricious  attribute  termed  artistic 
refinement  attaches  more  particularly  to  objects  of 
these  two  senses — namely,  the  power  of  protracted 
enjoyment  without  fatigue.  A  coarse  effect  is  one 
that  is  intense  and  pungent,  but  too  exhausting  to  be 
kept  up;  such  is  a  noisy  clash  of  loud  instruments  in 
a  musical  performance,  or  a  tale  of  overdone  marvels. 
To  remove  all  the  fatiguing  accompaniments,  and 
thereby  tone  down  the  exciting  influence,  while  re- 
taining as  much  as  possible  the  really  pleasurable 
part,  is  to  refine  upon  the  effect  and  produce  a  higher 
work  of  art.  Now,  in  the  sensations  of  taste  and 
smell  generally  the  stimulus  is  apt  to  be  of  short  du- 
ration; the  pleasure  is  said  to  pall  soon.  Yet  there 
are  degrees  in  the  case.  Some  of  the  choicer  odors 
can  affect  us  for  hours  together  with  a  gentle  and 
pleasing  sensation.  But  it  is  the  ear,  and  perhaps 
still  more  the  eye,  that  can  remain  open  to  agreeable 
stimulation  for  the  greatest  length  of  time,  and  taking 
this  fact  along  with  the  unconsuming  nature  of  their 
objects,  we  see  good  reasons  for  the  artist  striving  so 
earnestly  toward  the  gratification  of  those  two  senses. 

Contrasted  with  the  purely  effusive  are  the  so-called 
imitative  arts,  or  those  that  involve  the  representation 
of  some  of  the  appearances  of  the  outer  world. 
Such  are  painting,  sculpture,  and  poetry.  In  these 
the   artist,  while   still   aiming  at  pleasing  effects,  is 


680  SCIENTIFIC  INFORMATION. 

trammeled  with  the  condition  of  a  certain  amount  of 
fidelity  to  his  original  or  subject.  In  the  effusive  arts 
there  are  no  originals.  The  musician  imitates  nothing, 
and  is  bound  by  the  sole  condition  of  gratifying  the 
ear.  The  physician  imitates  nothing,  but  meets  the 
indications  of  the  case  in  relieving  disease.  But  a 
painter  chooses  his  subject  from  nature,  and  although 
he  must  contrive  to  yield  the  pleasures  of  color,  out- 
line, and  grouping,  he  must  do  so  with  a  certain  re- 
spect to  the  object  copied.  The  poet,  in  depicting 
the  life  of  men,  comes  under  the  rule  of  fidelity  to 
this  extent,  that  an  obvious  misrepresentation  is  apt 
to  give  a  painful  shock  and  mar  the  pleasure  that 
would  otherwise  be  derived  from  the  poetry  itself. 

It  is  not  so  much  that  truth  is  a  part  of  the  artistic 
pleasure  as  that  falsehood  is  a  stumbling-block  in  the 
way,  for  even  the  imitative  arts  are  only  so  in  part. 
There  is  no  imitation  in  the  meter  and  cadence  of  a 
song,  and  yet  these  often  constitute  the  main  charm. 
So  a  certain  license  of  fantastic  effusion  is  allowed  to 
poets,  subject  to  no  rules  but  the  giving  of  pleasure. 
The  creation  of  imaginary  worlds,  when  avowed,  is 
not  objected  to,  and  the  criterion  of  fidelity  to  the 
actual  is  accordingly  laid  aside  for  the  time.  The  va- 
rious arts  of  decoration  and  design  are  for  the  most 
part  effusive,  although  occasionally  imitative.  Archi- 
tecture is  not  in  any  way  imitative.  The  coincidence 
between  the  Gothic  roof  and  the  intermingling  foliage 
of  a  double  row  of  trees  is  a  mere  accident. 

These  observations  are  necessary  in  order  to  qual- 
ify the  current  maxim  that  nature  is  always  the  artist's 
standard  and  truth  his  chief  end — conditions  that,  in 
their  strictness,  apply  only  to  science.     It  is  the  sci- 


SCIENCE  CONTRASTED  WITH  ART.  681 

entific  man  that  should  never  deviate  from  nature,  and 
should  care  Ibr  truth  above  every  other  consideration. 
The  artist's  standard  is  feeling,  his  end  is  refined 
pleasure.  He  may  go  to  nature,  but  it  is  to.  select 
what  chimes  in  with  his  feelings  of  artistic  effect  and 
pass  by  the  rest.  He  is  not  bound  to  adhere  to  nature, 
even  in  her  choicest  displays.  His  own  taste  being 
the  touchstone,  he  alters  the  originals  at  his  will. 

The  student  of  science,  on  the  other  hand,  must 
embrace  every  fact  with  open  arms.  If  a  nauseous 
fungus  or  loathsome  rat  meet  the  eye  of  a  naturalist, 
he  is  bound  to  record  it  as  faithfully  and  minutely  as 
he  would  dilate  on  the  violet  or  the  nightingale. 
When  a  painter  adopts  the  human  figure  as  a  basis 
for  setting  forth  the  harmonies  of  color,  beauty,  form, 
and  picfuresqueness  of  grouping,  he  ought  not  to  jar 
our  sense  of  consistency  by  a  wide  departure  from 
the  usual  proportions  of  humanity.  Still  we  do  not 
look  for  anatomical  exactness.  We  know  that  the 
studies  of  an  artist  do  not  imply  the  knowledge  of  a 
professor  of  anatomy,  but  we  expect  the  main  features 
of  the  reality  to  be  adhered  to.  In  like  manner  a  poet 
is  not  great  because  he  exhibits  human  nature  with 
literal  fidelity.  To  do  that  makes  the  reputation  of 
the  historian  or  mental  philosopher. 

The  attempt  to  reconcile  the  artistic  with  the  true 
— art  with  nature — has  given  birth  to  a  peculiar 
school,  in  whose  productions  a  restraint  is  put  upon 
the  flights  of  pure  imagination,  and  which  claims  the 
merit  of  informing  the  mind  as  to  the  realities  of  the 
world  while  gratifying  the  various  emotions  of  taste. 
Instead  of  the  tales  of  Fairyland,  the  Arabian  Nights, 
and  the  romances  of  chivalry,  we  have  the  modern 


682  SCIENTIFIC  INFORMATION. 

novelist,  with  his  pictures  of  Hving  men  and  manners. 
In  painting  we  have  natural  scenery,  buildings,  men, 
and  animals  represented  with  scrupulous  exactness. 
The  sculptor  and  the  painter  exercise  the  vocation 
of  producing  portraits  that  shall  hand  down  to  future 
ages  the  precise  lineaments  of  the  men  and  women 
of  their  generation;  hence  the  study  of  nature  has 
become  an  element  in  artistic  education,  and  the  artist 
often  speaks  as  if  the  exhibition  of  truth  were  his 
leading  purpose.  It  is  probably  this  endeavor  to  sub- 
ject the  imagination  more  strictly  to  the  conditions 
of  truth  and  reality  that  has  caused  the  singular  in- 
version whereby  the  definition  of  science  is  made  the 
definition  of  art. 

The  sciences  have  been  variousl}'"  classified,  and  the 
principles  of  their  classification  have  been  a  subject 
of  much  discussion.  We  shall  here  describe  the 
mode  of  classifying  them  in  accordance  with  present 
usage  and  with  the  principles  most  generally  agreed 
upon. 

It  is  convenient  to  prepare  the  way  by  distinguish- 
ing between  theoretical  sciences  —  which  are  the 
sciences  properly  so  called — and  practical  sciences. 
A  theoretical  science  embraces  a  distinct  department 
of  nature,  and  is  so  arranged  as  to  give,  in  the  most 
compact  form,  the  entire  body  of  ascertained  (scien- 
tific) knowledge  in  that  department:  such  are  mathe- 
matics, chemistry,  physiology,  zoology.  A  practical 
science  is  the  application  of  scientifically  obtained 
facts  and  laws  in  one  or  more  departments  to  some 
practical  end,  which  end  rules  the  selection  and  ar- 
rangement of  the  whole;  as,  for  example,  navigation, 
engineering,  mining,    medicine.     Navigation    selects 


SCIENCE  CONTRASTED  WITH  ART.  683 

from  the  theoretical  sciences — mathematics,  astron- 
omy, optics,  meteorology,  etc. — whatever  is  available 
for  guiding  a  ship  on  the  seas,  and  converts  the  knowl- 
edge into  rules  or  prescriptions  for  that  purpose.  The 
arts  that  can  thus  draw  upon  the  exact  sciences  are 
by  so  much  the  more  certain  in  their  operation;  they 
are  the  scientific  arts. 

Another  distinction  must  be  made  before  laying 
down  the  systematic  order  of  the  theoretical  sciences. 
A  certain  number  of  these  sciences  have  for  their 
subject-matter  each  a  separate  department  of  natural 
forces  or  powers;  thus,  biology  deals  with  the  depart- 
ment of  organized  beings,  psychology  with  mind. 
Others  deal  with  the  application  of  powers  elsewhere 
recognized  to  some  region  of  concrete  facts  or  phe- 
nomena. Thus,  geology  does  not  discuss  any  natural 
powers  not  found  in  other  sciences,  but  seeks  to  ap- 
ply the  laws  of  physics,  chemistry,  and  biology  to  ac- 
count for  the  appearance  of  the  earth's  crust.  The 
sciences  that  embrace  peculiar  natural  powers  are 
called  abstract,  general,  or  fundamental  sciences; 
those  that  apply  the  powers  treated  of  under  these  to 
regions  of  concrete  phenomena  are  called  concrete, 
derived,  or  applied  sciences. 

The  abstract  or  theoretical  sciences,  as  most  com- 
monly recognized,  are  these  six:  mathematics,  physics, 
chemistry,  biology  (vegetable  and  animal  physiology), 
psychology  (mind),  sociology  (society).  The  concrete 
sciences  are  the  natural  history  group — meteorology, 
mineralogy,  botany,  zoology,  geology,  also  geography, 
and  we  might,  with  some  explanations,  add  astron- 
omy. The  abstract  or  fundamental  sciences  have  a 
definite  sequence,  determining  the  proper  order  for 


684  SCIENTIFIC  INFORMATION. 

the  learner,  and  also  the  order  of  their  arriving  at 
perfection.  We  proceed  from  the  simple  to  the  com- 
plex, from  the  independent  to  the  dependent.  Thus, 
mathematics  relates  to  quantity,  the  most  pervading, 
simple,  fundamental,  and  independent  attribute  of  the 
universe.  The  consideration  of  this  attribute  has 
therefore  a  natural  priority;  its  laws  underlie  all  other 
laws.  As  mathematics  is  at  present  understood,  it 
has  an  abstract  department,  which  treats  of  quantity 
in  its  most  general  form,  or  as  applied  to  nothing  in 
particular — including  arithmetic,  algebra,  and  the  cal- 
culus— and  a  concrete  or  applied  department — viz., 
geometry,  or  quantity  in  space  or  extension.  It  has 
been  suggested  that  general  mechanics,  or  the  estima- 
tion of  quantity  in  force,  should  be  considered  a  sec- 
ond concrete  department.  But  usually  mechanics 
ranks  with  the  next  fundamental  science  in  order, 
called  physics. 

The  practical  sciences  do  not  admit  of  any  regular 
classification.  They  are  as  numerous  as  the  separate 
ends  of  human  life  that  can  receive  aid  from  science, 
or  from  knowledge  scientifically  constituted.  Con- 
nected with  mind  and  society,  we  have  ethics,  logic, 
rhetoric,  grammar,  philology,  education,  law,  juris- 
prudence, politics,  political  economy,  etc.  In  the 
manual  and  mechanical  arts  there  are  navigation, 
practical  mechanics,  engineering  (civil  and  military), 
mining  and  metallurgy,  chemistry  applied  to  dyeing, 
bleaching,  etc. 

The  medical  department  contains  medicine,  surgery, 
midwifery,  materia  medica,  medical  jurisprudence. 
A  science  of  living,  or  of  the  production  of  happiness 
by  a  skilled  application  of  all  existing  resources,  was 


SCIENCE  AND  THE  BIBLE.  685 

greatly  desiderated  by  Plato,  and  would  be  the  crown- 
ing practical  science. 

The  Christian  religion  is  a  combination  of  both  art 
and  science,  and  becomes  to  those  who  accept  and 
practice  it  the  "  science  of  living,"  for  which  Plato 
longed  and  the  world  is  sutiering  to  this  day.  Science 
is  the  fundamental  principle  of  religion,  and  all  science 
may  be  said  to  unite  to  form  religion  and  to  converge 
in  its  doctrines,  for  it  is  God's  law,  the  law  of  the 
universe  and  of  animated  creation,  that  constitutes 
the  one  and  the  other  alike.  But  the  means  by  which 
religion  is  communicated  to  man  consist  of  the  high- 
est degree  of  art.  In  all  its  avenues  of  manifestation 
and  display  it  belongs  to  the  realm  of  art,  for  the 
Bible  is  the  most  beautiful  work  of  art  ever  given  to 
man,  abounding  as  it  does  in  pictures,  dramas, 
poetry,  and  sentiment.  Moreover,  in  the  acts  of 
charity  and  daily  life  the  most  exquisite  display  of  art 
is  developed  by  those  who  practice  its  precepts.  The 
eye  is  delighted  with  forms  of  beauty  and  grace 
brought  forth  in  the  peaceful  avocations  of  our  daily 
walk,  and  the  ear  is  ravished  with  songs,  and  hymns, 
and  gentle  words. 

Sgibngb  and  the  Bible. 

Now  and  then  a  lecturer  gains  a  little  cheap  applause  by 
sneering  at  what  he  calls  "the  mistakes  of  Moses." 

Dr.  Samuel  Kinns,  in  a  recent  lecture  given  in  the  Earl  of 
Shaftesbury's  drawing-room,  described  fifteen  creative  events 
which  Moses  had-  placed  in  the  correct  order  of  sequence,  ac- 
cording to  the  latest  discoveries  in  science. 

The  bearing  of  this  fact  upon  the  inspiration  oF  Moses  may 
be  seen  from  the  following  summary  of  Dr.  Kinns's  remarks: 

Dr.  Kinns  then  proved  that  the  number  of  changes  that  can 


686  SCIENTIFIC  INFORMATION. 

be  made  in  the  order  of  fifteen  things  is  more  than  a  bilHon, 
viz.,  i,3o7,674,368,cx)o. 

Therefore,  if  Moses  placed  fifteen  important  creative  events 
in  their  proper  order,  without  the  possibility  of  traditional  help, 
as  most  of  them  happened  millions  of  years  before  man  was 
created,  it  is  a  strong  proof  of  his  inspiration.  For  group  them 
as  one  may,  and  take  off  a  further  'percentage  for  any  scientific 
knowledge  possessed  by  him,  still  the  chances  must  be  reckoned 
by  hundreds  of  millions  against  his  giving  the  order  correctly 
without  a  special  revelation  from  God. 

To  lead  his  auditors  to  appreciate  this.  Dr.  Kinns  mentioned 
that  a  clock  beating  seconds  would  take  over  30,000  years  to 
tick  a  billion  times. 

If  any  fifteen  different  events  could  be  written  down  once  in 
every  ten  minutes,  it  would  take  24,000,000  of  years  to  write  all 
the  variations  that  could  be  made  in  their  order,  wi'iting  them 
day  and  night  without  intermission. 

To  further  illustrate  it,  he  distributed  slips  of  paper  for  each 
to  write  down  the  first  fifteen  letters  of  the  alphabet  in  an  order 
known  only  to  himself,  something  in  this  order: 
gmhdajhkcfeniol, 
and  not  one  corresponded  with  his. 

lie  told  them  that  if  all  the  people  in  the  world  were  to  try 
to  imitate  his  unknown  order,  there  would  be  still  a  thousand 
chances  to  one  that  the  whole  1,200,000,000  attempts  would  be 
incorrect.  Or,  in  other  words,  if  all  the  people  in  a  thousand 
worlds,  each  having  a  population  equal  to  our  own,  were  to  try, 
there  would  still  be  a  probability  that  not  one  list  would  agree 
in  sequence  with  the  unknown  list. 

After  this  he  asks.  How  will  the  skeptic  explain  the  marvel- 
ous, nay,  miraculous,  accuracy  in  sequence  of  the  Mosaic  cos- 
mogony. 

Field  op  the  Telephone. 

Professor  Bell  is  sanguine  that  the  usefulness  of  the  telephone 
has  by  no  means  as  yet  attained  its  natural  limit.  Since  the 
recent  decision  sustaining  the  patents  of  the  American  Bell 
Company,  he  has  been  devoting  himself  with  assiduity  to  ex- 
periments intended  to  improve  the  telephone,  with  the  idea  of 
making  it  feasible  to  speak  over  longer  distances  than  is  now 


FIELD  OF  THE  TELEPHONE.  687 

possible.  In  a  recent  interview  with  a  newspaper  reporter  he 
predicted  that  it  would  in  time  be  as  easy  "for  a  subscriber  in 
New  York  to  call  up  a  friend  in  San  Francisco,  and  to  engajje 
him  in  conversation,  as  it  would  be  to  call  another  subscriber  to 
the  telephone  in  the  city  of  New  York."  The  service  between 
New  York  and  Boston,  by  means  of  a  circuit  of  double  cop- 
per-wire, is  now  said  to  be  working  very  satisfactorily;  but 
Professor  Bell  thinks  that  all  wires  in  cities  should  be  placed 
underground;  that  "the  efficiency  of  the  telephone  cannot  be 
fairly  judged  and  tested  in  a  large  city,  where  the  wires  are 
supported  on  poles  and  buildings.*'  Professor  Bell  does  not 
believe  in  the  relay  system  for  strengthening  the  current  along 
the  line,  but  believes  that  the  sound  can  be  so  intensified  at  the 
receiver  as  to  be  heard  in  the  remote  corners  of  a  large  room. 
As  to  this  point,  he  says:  "We  find  this  difficulty — when  the 
sound  is  intensified,  it  is  at  the  expense  of  distinctness  and  of 
perfect  articulation.  The  fault  can  probably  be  corrected  in  a 
measure,  so  that  if  persons  desire  it  they  will  be  able  to  sit 
some  distance  from  the  telephone  and  hear  all  that  comes 
through  the  receiver.  The  transmitter  can  also  be  made  to 
convey  sounds  brought  to  it  from  a  distance." 

Besides  his  direct  experiments  with  the  telephone,  Professor 
Bell  has  long  been  actively  interested  in  eflforts  to  promote  the 
education  of  deaf-mutes.  He  has,  in  this  connection,  invented 
an  instrument  for  accurately  measuring  the  hearing  capacity  of 
the  human  ear.  It  is  composed  of  one  stationary  and  one  slid- 
ing coil,  between  two  horizontal  rods,  on  one  of  which  is  a 
graduated  scale  reduced  to  the  metric  system.  A  telephone  re- 
ceiver is  attached  to  the  instrument,  and  the  current  is  supplied 
by  a  magneto-electric  machine  which  has  a  wheel  composed 
of  alternate  sections  of  conducting  and  non-conducting  sur- 
faces, by  means  of  which  the  current  is  rapidly  and  regularly 
closed  and  opened.  A  musical  sound  is  produced,  which  the 
telephone  receiver  communicates  to  the  ear.  Holding  the  re- 
ceiver to  the  ear,  the  operator  moves  the  sliding  coil  from  tlie 
stationary  one,  and  as  the  distance  between  the  coils  increases 
the  sound  grows  fainter  and  fainter,  and  finally  is  lost  altogether. 
The  scale  on  the  side-rod  marks  the  point  which  the  sliding 
coil  had  reached  when  the  sound  ceased  to  be  heard.  If  a 
standard  of  normal  hearing  capacity  can  ^once  be  obtained,  it 


688  SCIENTIFIC  INFORMATION. 

will  be  an  easy  matter  to  measure  the  exact  capacity  of  every 
ear  which  is  tested.  Every  element,  by  the  use  of  this  instru- 
ment, is  calculable. 

Professor  Bell  has  tested  this  instrument  in  some  of  the  New 
York  public  schools,  and  estimates  that  ten  per  cent,  of  the  chil- 
dren attending  them  have  slight  defects  of  hearing.  He  says 
that  "one  per  cent,  of  this  number  are  so  deaf  that  they  derive 
no  benefit  from  the  usual  methods  of  instruction.  The  scholars 
know,  of  course,  when  their  hearing  is  bad,  but  the  teachers,  as 
a  rule,  do  not,  and  often  think  a  child  dull  when  it  is  only  deaf. 
If  the  teachers  were  aware  of  the  infirmity,  and  understood  it, 
the  pupil  whose  hearing  was  defective  could  always  be  given  a 
position  in  the  room  and  classes  which  would  enable  him  to 
profit  by  the  instruction  which  he  is  now  in  many  cases  losing. 
I  find  a  great  difference  in  the  hearing  capacity  of  people. 
Some  persons  can  hear  equally  well  with  both  ears,  but  most 
persons  have  a  greater  hearing  capacity  in  one  ear  than  in  the 
other.  The  hearing  capacity  ranges  from  zero  to  an  abnormal 
degree  of  acuteness." 

She  I^apid  ©blegi^aph. 

The  capacity  of  a  single  line  of  telegraph  wire  has  always 
been  limited  by  the  quickness  of  the  operator.  The  electricity 
passes  from  end  to  end  of  the  longest  line  without  appreciable 
loss  of  time. 

A  sender  of  average  ability  can  transmit  twenty-five  words 
a  minute,  or  fifty  messages  an  hour.  This  being  the  limit  of  a 
single  wire,  many  lines  have  become  necessary  between  large 
cities  to  provide  for  the  constant  increase  in  the  use  of  the  tel- 
egraph by  all  classes. 

A  few  years  ago  Mr.  Edison  discovered  and  applied  the  quad- 
ruplex  system.  By  this  invention  four  messages  can  be  sent  at 
one  time  over  the  same  wire,  two  each  way.  As  its  name  im- 
plies, it  increased  the  carrying  capacity  of  a  wire  fourfold. 

But  the  new  system  of  the  Rapid  Telegraph  Company  is 
even  more  wonderful.  By  this  method  the  messages  are  trans- 
ferred to  a  paper  tape,  which  is  perforated  by  a  machine  with  a 
key-board,  operated  like  a  type-writer.  Many  persons  are  kept 
busy  at  these  machines  preparing  these  messages.  When  the 
tape  is  ready  it  is  wound  on  a  wheel. 


THE  MAGNETIC  POLE.  689 

Now,  instead  of  the  operator  making  each  letter  by  succes* 
sive  clicks  of  the  telegraph  key,  he  simply  turns  the  wheel,  and 
steel  points  like  the  nibs  of  a  pen  trace  their  way  over  the  per- 
forated tape,  and  wherever  there  are  holes  the  circuit  is  com- 
pleted and  the  electric  current  reports  at  the  other  end  of  the 
line  in  dots  or  dashes,  long  or  short,  as  the  perforation  may  be. 

The  messages  are  then  translated  from  the  telegraphic  code, 
and  printed  in  full  by  the  aid  of  the  type-writer  ready  for  de- 
livery. 

By  this  invention  the  capacity  of  a  wire  is  increased  thirty- 
fold.  In  a  minute  i,ooo  words  may  be  sent,  involving  500  pul- 
sations a  second  of  the  electric  current.  All  these  improve- 
ments are  in  the  direction  of  cheap  and  efficient  telegraphy. 

She  Speed  op  Ihghtning. 

Professor  Tait,  of  Edinburgh,  asserts  that  the  course  of  a  flash 
of  lightning  cannot  be  detected  by  the  eye.  The  duration  of  a 
lightning-flash  is  less  than  the  millionth  part  of  a  second,  and 
the  eye  cannot  possibly  follow  movements  of  such  inconceiva- 
ble rapidity.  When,  therefore,  people  think  they  see  a  flash  go 
upward  or  downward,  they  are  quite  mistaken.  The  origin  of 
the  mistake,  Professor  Tait  says,  seems  to  be  a  subjective  one — 
viz.,  that  the  central  parts  of  the  retina  are  more  sensitive,  by 
practice,  than  the  rest,  and  therefore  that  the  portion  of  the 
flash  which  is  seen  directly  affects  the  brain  soonest;  hence  a 
spectator  looking  toward  either  end  of  a  flash  naturally  concludes 
that  end  to  be  its  starting-point. 

©HE  CQagnetig  ^OLE. 

Professor  Thompson,  in  a  lecture  at  Glasgow,  stated  that  the 
magnetic  pole  is  now  near  Boothia  Felix,  more  than  1,000  miles 
west  of  the  geographical  pole.  In  1657  the  magnetic  pole  was 
due  north,  it  having  been  eastward  before  that.  Then  it  began 
to  move  westward  until  18 16,  when  the  maximum  was  reached. 
This  is  now  being  steadily  diminished,  and  in  1976  it  will  again 
point  true  north.  Professor  Thompson  says  that  the  changes 
which  have  been  observed,  not  only  in  the  direction  but  in  the 
strength  of  the  earth's  magnetism,  show  that  the  same  causes 
which  originally  magnetized  the  earth  are  still  at  work. 
44 


690  SCIENTIFIC  INFOBMA  TION. 

O^BIGHJP,  STAIPUI^B,  AND  DBVELOPMBNIII  OP  (QAN. 

The  weight  of  the  male  infant  at  birth  is  7  pounds  avoirdu- 
pois; that  of  the  female  is  not  quite  6J  pounds.  The  maximum 
weight  (140I  pounds)  of  the  male  is  attained  at  the  age  of  40; 
that  of  the  female  (neai'ly  124  pounds)  is  not  attained  until  50, 
from  which  ages  they  decline  afterward,  the  male  to  127^  pounds, 
the  female  to  100  pounds,  nearly  a  stone.  The  full-grown  adult 
is  20  times  as  heavy  as  a  new^-born  infant.  In  the  first  year  he 
triples  his  weight,  afterward  the  growth  proceeds  in  geomet- 
rical progression,  so  that  if  50  infants  in  their  first  year  weigh 
1,000  pounds,  they  will  in  the  second  weigh  1,210  pounds,  in 
the  third  1,331  pounds,  in  the  fourth  1,464  pounds,  the  term  re- 
maining very  constant  up  to  the  ages  of  11-12  in  females  and 
12-13  in  males,  where  it  must  be  nearly  doubled;  afterward  it 
may  be  continued,  and  will  be  found  vei'y  nearly  correct  up  to 
the  age  of  18  or  19,  when  the  growth  proceeds  very  slowly.  At 
an  equality  of  age  the  male  is  generally  heavier  than  the  female. 
Toward  the  age  of  12  yekrs.only  an  individual  of  each  sex  has 
the  same  weight.  The  male  attains  the  maximum  weight  about 
the  age  of  40,  and  he  begins  to  lose  it  very  sensibly  toward  60. 
At  80  he  loses  about  13.2328  pounds  and  the  stature  is  dimin- 
ished 2.756  inches.  Females  attain  their  maximum  weight  about 
50.  The  mean  weight  of  a  mature  man  is  104  pounds,  and  of  an 
average  woman  94  pounds.  In  old  age  they  lose  about  12  or 
14  pounds.  Men  weigh  most  at  40,  women  at  50,  and  begin  to 
lose  weight  at  60.  The  mean  weight  of  both  sexes  in  old  age 
is  that  which  they  have  at  59. 

When  the  male  and  female  have  assumed  their  complete  de- 
velopment they  weigh  almost  exactly  20  times  as  much  as  at 
birth,  while  the  stature  is  about  3^  times  greater. 

Children  lose  weight  during  the  first  three  days  after  birth; 
at  the  age  of  a  week  they  sensibly  increase;  after  i  year  they 
triple  their  weight;  then  they  require  6  years  to  double  their 
weight  and  13  to  quadruple  it. 

It  has  been  computed  that  nearly  two  years'  sickness  is  expe- 
rienced by  every  person  before  he  is  70  years  old,  and  therefore 
that  10  days  per  annum  is  the  average  sickness  of  human  life. 
Till  40  it  is  but  half,  and  after  50  it  rapidly  increases.  The 
mixed  and  fanciful  diet  of  man  is  considered  the  cause  of  nu- 


HUMAN  LONGEVITY.  691 

merous  diseases,  from  which  the  animals  are  exempt.  Many 
diseases  have  abated  with  changes  of  diet,  and  others  are  viru- 
lent in  particular  countries,  arising  from  peculiarities. 

F)UMAN    LiONGEYIiPY. 

Of  100,000  male  and  female  children,  on  a  mean  of  many 
tables,  it  appears  by  Qiietelet  in  the  first  month  they  are  reduced 
to  90,396,  or  nearly  a  tenth;  in  the  second  to  87,936;  in  the  third 
to  86,175;  ^"  ^^^  fourth  to  84,720;  in  the  fifth  to  83,571;  in  the 
sixth  to  82,536,  and  by  the  end  of  the  first  year  to  77,528,  the 
deaths  being  2  in  9.  The  next  four  years  reduces  the  77,528  to 
62,448,  indicating  37,552  deaths  before  the  end  of  the  fifth  year. 

At  25  years  the  100,000  are  half,  or  49,995;  at  52  a  third;  at 
58^  a  fourth,  or  25,000;  at  67  a  fifth;  at  76  a  tenth;  at  81  a  twen- 
tieth, or  5,000,  and  10  attain  100.  Children  die  in  large  propor- 
tions, because  their  diseases  cannot  be  explained,  and  because 
their  organs  are  not  habituated  to  the  functions  of  life.  The 
mean  of  life  varies  in  different  countries  from  40  to  45.  A  gen- 
eration from  father  to  son  is  about  20  years.  Of  men  in  general 
5-6ths  die  before  70  and  i5-i6ths  before  80.  After  80  it  is 
rather  endurance  than  enjoyment.  The  nerves  are  blunted,  the 
senses  fail,  the  muscles  are  rigid,  the  softer  tubes  become  hard, 
the  memory  fails,  the  brain  ossifies,  the  affections  are  buried, 
and  hope  ceases.  The  i6th  die  at  80;  except  a  133d,  at  90.  A 
remainder  die  from  an  inability  to  live,  at  or  before  100. 

About  the  age  of  36  the  lean  man  usually  becomes  fatter  and 
the  fat  man  leaner.  Again,  between  the  years  of  43  and  50  his 
appetite  fails,  his  complexion  fades,  and  his  tongue  is  apt  to  be 
furred  upon  the  least  exertion  of  body  or  mind.  At  this  period 
his  muscles  become  flabby,  his  joints  weak,  his  spirits  droop, 
and  his  sleep  is  imperfect  and  unrefreshing.  After  suffering 
under  these  complaints  a  year,  or  perhaps  two,  he  starts  afresh 
with  renewed  vigor  and  goes  on  to  61  or  62,  when  a  similar 
change  takes  place,  but  with  aggravated  symptoms.  When 
these  grand  periods  have  been  successively  passed,  the  gravity 
of  incumbent  years  is  more  strongly  marked,  and  he  begins  to 
boast  of  his  age. 

In  Russia,  much  more  than  in  any  other  country,  instances 
of  longevity  are  numerous,  if  true.  In  the  report  of  the  Holy 
Synod,  in  1827,  during  the  year  1825,  and  only  among  the  Greek 


692  SCIENTIFIC  INFORMATION. 

religion,  848  men  had  reached  upward  of  100  years  of  age;  32 
had  passed  their  120th  year;  4  from  130  to  135.  Out  of  606,- 
818  men  who  died  in  1826,  2,785  were  above  90;  1,432  above 
95,  and  818  above  100  years  of  age.  Among  this  last  number 
88  were  above  115;  24  more  than  120;  7  above  125,  and  one  160. 
Riley  asserts  that  Arabs  in  the  desert  live  200  years. 

On  the  avei'age  men  have  their  first-born  at  30  and  women  at 
28.  The  greatest  number  of  deliveries  take  place  between  25 
and  35.  The  greatest  number  of  deliveries  take  place  in  the 
winter  months  and  in  February,  and  the  smallest  in  July,  i.  e.,  to 
February  as  4  to  5  in  towns  and  3  to  5  in  the  country.  The 
night  births  are  to  the  day  as  5  to  4. 

I7UMAN  Sti^bngth. 

In  Schulze's  experiments  on  human  strength  he  found  that 
men  of  five  feet,  weighing  126  pounds,  could  lift  vertically  156 
pounds  8  inches,  217  pounds  1.2  inches;  others,  6.1  feet,  weigh- 
ing 183  pounds,  156  pounds  13  inches,  and  217  pounds  6  inches; 
others,  6  feet  3  inches,  weighing  198  pounds,  156  pounds  16 
inches,  and  217  pounds  9  inches.  By  a  great  variety  of  other 
experiments  he  determined  the  mean  human  strength  at  30 
pounds,  with  a  velocity  of  2.5  feet  per  second,  or  it  is  equal  to 
the  raising  half  a  hogshead  10  feet  in  a  minute. 

Smeaton,  a  good  authority,  reckoned  i  horse  equal  to  5  men. 
Porters  carry  from  150  to  250  pounds.  A  man  draws  horizon- 
tally 70  to  80  pounds,  and  thrusts  at  the  height  of  his  chest  28 
or  30  pounds.  In  hot  climates  men  cannot  perform  half  the 
continued  labor.  A  man's  mean  labor,  per  Young,  is  sufficient 
to  raise  10  pounds  10  feet  in  a  second  for  10  hours  per  day,  or 
100  pounds  I  foot  in  a  second,  or  36,000  feet  in  10  hours — that 
is,  100  pounds  per  day  would  be  3,600,000  feet  in  a  day,  which 
he  calls  a  dynamic  unit.  The  force  of  a  man  in  turning  a  winch 
is  taken  at  116  pounds,  or  as  much  as  would  raise  256  pounds 
3,281  feet  in  a  day.  His  force  in  pumping  is  as  190,  or  equal  to 
410  pounds  in  3,281  feet;  in  ringing  259,  or  572  pounds  in  3,281 
feet,  and  in  rowing  273,  or  608  pounds  in  3,281  feet.  In  work- 
ing a  pump,  a  winch,  a  bell,  and  rowing  the  effects  are  as  100, 
168,  227,  and  248.  A  man  with  an  augur  exerts  a  force  of  100 
pounds,  with  a  screw-driver  of  84  pounds,  with  a  windlass  60 
pounds,  a  hand-plane  50  pounds,  a  hand-saw  36  pounds. 


SCIENTIFIC  SCRAPS.  693 

Dr.  Macon,  of  the  Inebriates'  Home  at  Fort  Hamilton,  L.  I., 
has  looked  into  the  family  history  of  i6i  patients  there.  He 
learned  that  98  of  the  number  had  drunken  fathers,  6  drunken 
mothers,  and  16  grandparents  and  other  near  kindred  who 
were  intemperate.  Fifteen  were  of  families  in  which  insanity 
existed,  sometimes  along  with  inebriety.  Thus  are  the  iniqui- 
ties of  the  fathers  visited  upon  the  children,  even  to  the  third 
and  fourth  generations. 

According  to  the  calculation  of  some  curiosity-seeker  every 
husband  and  wife  have  four  parents,  eight  grandparents,  six- 
teen great-grandparents,  etc.,  the  total  number  amounting  to 
8,196  ancestors  in  the  twelfth  generation  ago.  In  other  words, 
every  young  child  of  to-day  has  in  its  veins  the  blood  of  over 
8,000  persons  who  were  alive  when  Columbus  discovered 
America. 

The  temperature  of  the  human  body  is  about  100  degrees 
Fahrenheit,  and  remains  about  the  same  winter  and  summer,  in 
the  tropics  as  well  as  in  the  frozen  regions  of  the  North.  It 
may  change  temporarily  within  the  range  of  12  degrees,  but 
any  considerable  or  long-continued  elevation  or  diminution  of 
the  bodily  heat  is  certain  to  result  disastrously. 

After  many  years  of  experimenting  a  German  chemist  claims 
to  have  succeeded  at  last  in  coating  instantaneously  all  the  ordi- 
nary metals  and  their  alloys  with  a  thin  film  of  brass,  which  can 
be  varied  in  color.  He  uses  only  a  single  battery-cell,  and  ob- 
tains at  will  solid  deposits  of  various  hues  and  brilliancy. 

Rev.  Abel  Fletcher,  a  blind  preacher,  accounts  for  the  pro- 
verbial cheerfulness  of  blind  people  from  the  fact  that  their 
lives  are  a  continual  experiment,  in  which  the  other  senses  are 
made  to  do  duty  for  the  lost  sense.  This  occupation  of  the  fac- 
ulties is  the  source  of  content. 

A  deaf  family  in  New  Hampshire  has  been  traced  back  to 
the  fourteenth  century  in  England  and  in  all  that  time  has  reg- 
ularly shown  a  succession  of  deaf  mutes.  In  Maine  there  is  a 
family  in  which  there  are  ninety-five  deaf  mutes,  all  of  them 
connected  by  blood  or  marriage. 


694  scientific  information. 

Gai^th-woi^ms. 

If  you  were  to  see  a  jai"  of  earth  in  which  a  great  many 
earth-worms  had  been  placed,  you  would  doubtless  conclude 
that  they  had  been  gathered  by  some  fisherman,  and  were  to  do 
duty  as  bait;  but  J  wish  to  tell  you  of  a  jar  of  worms  that  be- 
longed to  a  naturalist,  who  had  collected  them  that  he  might 
study  their  habits. 

He  soon  found  that  they  form  for  themselves  little  burrows 
in  the  earth,  in  which  they  rest  quietly  during  the  day,  coming 
out  to  look  for  food  by  night.  But  how  can  they  tell  day  from 
night?  Have  they  eyes?  Can  they  see?  Mr.  Darwin,  after 
close  study,  concluded  that  they  have  no  eyes,  but  that  the  front 
part  of  their  bodies  is  sensitive  to  light;  for,  if  he  concenti"ated 
by  a  lens  the  rays  of  a  candle  upon  their  heads,  they  dashed 
into  their  burrows  like  rabbits;  if,  however,  he  shaded  their 
heads  and  cast  the  light  upon  some  other  part  of  their  bodies, 
they  took  no  notice  of  it. 

Can  they  smell?  Mr.  Darwin  buried  bits  of  onions  and  cab- 
bage in  the  ground.  These  they  soon  found,  guided  to  them 
by  the  sense  of  smell.  They  showed  that  they  liked  the  taste 
of  some  articles  much  better  than  that  of  others.  Thus  when 
bits  of  green  and  red  cabbage  were  placed  side  by  side,  they 
always  chose  the  green,  but  would  readily  leave  either  for  cel- 
ery. Nor  do  they  crave  an  exclusively  vegetable  diet.  It  was 
really  amusing  to  see  them  striving  to  secure  firmly  in  their 
jaws  bits  of  meat  which  had  been  fastened  by  long  pins. 
Night  after  night  they  would  tug  at  them,  in  their  struggle 
reaching  half  out  of  their  burrows. 

Can  they  hear?  They  seemed  to  pay  no  attention  to  any 
noises  in  the  room,  but  if  the  jar  in  which  they  lived  were 
placed  upon  the  piano  while  the  keys  were  struck,  they  seemed 
to  be  frightened  by  the  vibrations  thus  felt,  and  soon  retired  to 
their  burrows. 

Are  tbey  of  any  use  to  man?  If  you  will  look  into  the  gar- 
den around  their  burrows  you  will  see  little  mounds  of  earth, 
not  very  high,  but  very  fine.  It  is  said  that  in  India  these 
mounds  may  sometimes  be  seen  as  high  as  six  inches.  This 
earth  has  been  brought  to  the  surface  by  the  earth-worm;  part 
of  it  he  has  removed  while  making  his  burrow.      When  we 


INMABlTAliTS  OF  TUE  BLOOD.  695 

consider  the  numbers  of  earth-worms  throughout  the  soil  in  all 
parts  of  the  world,  and  the  fact  that  each  one  is  throwing  up 
these  earth-castings,  we  will  see  that  they  are  all  busy  in  mak- 
ing the  soil  of  our  fields  and  gardens  very  fine  and  porous. 

At  one  time  Mr.  Darwin,  wishing  to  ascertain  the  amount  of 
mold  that  would  thus  be  worked  over  in  a  given  time,  had  lime 
spread  upon  a  meadow,  leaving  it  undisturbed  for  ten  years. 
Immediately  these  little  farmers  began  operations.  Here  and 
there  they  burrowed  through  the  lime,  leaving  around  their 
homes  their  little  castings  of  fine  soil.  Gradually  this  pulver- 
ized soil  covered  the  lime  and  it  disappeared  from  sight.  At 
the  end  of  ten  years  holes  were  dug  at  various  points  through 
the  meadow,  and  then  it  was  discovered  that  the  lime  was  three 
inches  below  the  surface — those  three  inches  representing  the 
amount  of  fine  mold  brought  up  by-  the  earth-worms.  The 
castings  thus  thrown  out  on  sloping  hill-sides  are  washed  down 
into  the  valleys  by  the  rains;  thus  the  little  earth-worm  may  be 
laying  bare  the  surface  of  the  mighty  rocks  as  well  as  pulver- 
izing the  soil. 

We  have  often  heard  of  the  coral  insect — more  properly,  coral 
animal,  for  it  is  no  insect — which,  out  in  the  ocean,  slowly  builds 
up  islands  for  man's  habitation.  We  may  now  regard  our 
familiar  earth-worm  as  his  fellow- worker,  as  a  "planer  of  the 
mountain-side,  a  maker  of  fertile,  alluvial  corn  lands,"  and  thus 
an  unconscious  friend  to  man  in  his  agricultural  operations. 

INHABIIIANIPS   OP    THE    BLOOD. 

One  of  the  great  facts  of  the  outer  world  is  the  perpetual 
circulation  of  water,  and  the  absolute  dependence  on  it  of  every 
living  thing.  This  water  passes  up  from  the  vast  invisible 
ocean  below  to  the  vaster  invisible  ocean  above,  thence  down 
in  showers  and  back  in  rivers,  brooks,  and  rills,  to  whence  it 
came.  So  the  whole  animate  world  is  equally  dependent  on  an 
analogous  circulation  of  blood  from  the  heart,  through  large 
streams  and  microscopic  rills,  to  every  part  and  point  of  the 
body,  and  back  again  to  the  ever-heaving  heart  through  similar 
streams  and  rills. 

This  blood  is  the  water  of  life  to  the  body,  containing  within 
itself,  in  due  proportion,  all  the  elements  of  the  latter  for  its  up- 


696  SGIENTIFIXJ  INFORMATION. 

building,  with  power  to  rid  itself  of  all  waste  matter,  and  to 
renew  itself  perpetually. 

Yet,  as  the  ocean  and  rivers  support  a  life  of  their  own  in 
the  fishes  that  swanri  them,  and  in  the  plants  that  grow  on  their 
beds,  so,  in  some  sort,  it  is  with  the  circulating  vital  fluid. 
Countless  microscopic  plants  live,  multiply,  and  die  within  it 
in  endless  succession,  without  disturbing  the  health  of  the  body, 
while  others  may  from  time  to  time  gain  admittance,  bringing 
disease  with  them. 

Even  the  former,  it  is  now  believed,  may  lose  their  harmless 
character  in  certain  morbid  changes  of  the  blood.  The  great 
life-currents  may  also  become  "  stocked  " — as  we  say  of  rivers 
and  lakes — with  microscopic  animals. 

Says  Dr.  Cobbold,  F.R.S.:  "There  is  no  class  of  creatures, 
from  the  mollusk  upward,  in  which  parasites  may  not  be  found 
in  the  organs  of  circulation."  True  haematozoa  (blood  animals) 
have  been  found  circulating  in  the  blood  of  frogs  and  fishes,  and 
even  in  the  heart  of  the  former.  Dr.  Manson  dissected  some 
thirty  to  forty  magpies,  and  in  every  instance  found  quantities 
of  them. 

The  hearts  of  cetacea  (of  the  whale  species),  seals,  and  dogs 
are  sometimes  foimd  stuffed  with  worms.  One-third  of  the 
pariah  dogs  of  India  are  believed  to  contain  hiematozoa;  and 
so,  according  to  Cobbold,  do  ninety  per  cent,  of  all  the  adult 
horses  of  Europe,  and  probably  every  full-grown  ass  in  Great 
Britain.  One-third  of  the  natives  of  Egypt  are  similarly  af- 
fected. Whether  the  health  shall  be  injured  by  them  depends 
mainly  on  their  number  and  the  general  condition  of  the  health 
otherwise.  It  is  a  singular  fact  that  some  of  these  hasmatozoa 
live  in  the  circulating  blood  during  the  waking  hours,  and  retii^e 
to  the  tissues  during  sleep. 

She  ©ulse  op  ^nimals. 

In  horses  the  pulse,  at  rest,  beats  forty  times;  in  an  ox,  from 
fifty  to  fifty-five;  and  in  sheep  and  pigs,  about  seventy  to  eighty 
beats  per  minute.  It  may  be  felt  wherever  a  large  artery  crosses 
a  bone,  for  instance.  It  is  generally  examined  in  the  horse  on 
the  cord  which  crosses  over  the  bone  of  the  lower  jaw  in  front 
of  its  curved  position,  or  in  the  bony  ridge  above  the  eye;  and 
in  cattle  over  the  middle  of  the  first  rib,  and  in  sheep  by  plac- 


THE  AROMA  TIC  BE  VERA  GE.  697 

ing  the  hand  on  the  left  side,  where  the  beating  of  the  heart 
may  be  felt.  Any  material  variation  of  the  pulse  from  the  fig- 
ures given  above  may  be  considered  a  sign  of  disease.  If  rapid, 
hard,  and  full,  it  is  an  indication  of  high  fever,  or  inflammation; 
if  rapid,  small,  and  weak,  low  fever,  loss  of  blood,  or  weakness. 
If  slow,  the  probabilities  point  to  a  brain  disease;  and  if  irreg- 
ular, to  heart  troubles.  This  is  one  of  the  principal  and  sure 
tests  of  the  health  of  an  animal. 

©HE   fll^OMAiPIG    BEYEI^AGE. 

The  use  of  coffee  as  a  beverage  is  traced  to  the  Persians, 
"  Some  ascribe  the  discovery  of  coffee  as  a  beverage  to  the 
prior  of  a  monastery  who,  being  informed  by  a  goat-herd  that 
his  cattle  sometimes  browsed  upon  the  coftee-tree  and  that  they 
would  then  wake  at  night  and  sport  and  bound  upon  the  hills, 
became  curious  to  prove  its  virtues.  He  accordingly  tried  it  on 
his  monks  to  prevent  them  from  sleeping  at  matins,  and  he 
found  that  it  checked  their  slumbers."  However  this  may  be, 
it  came  into  great  repute  in  Arabia  Felix  about  1454.  A  hun- 
dred years  later  coffee-houses  were  opened  in  Constantinople, 
where  coffee  was  served  as  a  beverage  and  became  a  great  fa- 
vorite. Anderson  states  that  "  coffee  was  brought  into  England 
by  Mr.  Nathaniel  Canopus,  a  Cretan,  who  made  it  his  common 
beverage  at  Baliol  College,  Oxford,  in  1641."  "There  was  a 
great  outcry,"  says  a  contemporary,  "  on  the  first  introduction 
of  coffee  into  England.  Lord  Bacon,  in  his  '  Sylva  Sylvarum ' 
(James  I.),  mentions  coffee  as  a  Turkish  drink,  made  from  a 
soot-black,  scented  berry,  which  the  Turks  grind  into  powder 
and  drink  in  boiling-hot  water,  to  comfort  and  cheer  brain  and 
heart  and  assist  digestion.  Burton,  in  his  'Anatomy  of  Melan- 
choly' (1621),  in  the  same  reign,  speaks  of  Turkish  coffee- 
houses. In  1632  Sir  Henry  Blount,  who  wrote  a  book  of  trav- 
els in  the  Levant,  mentions  Turkish  coffee  with  praise.  Evelyn 
describes  drinking  it  at  college  in  the  rooms  of  a  Levant  friend; 
and  Anthony  Wood  tells  us  that  in  1650  (ten  years  before  the 
Restoration)  a  Levant  Jew  opened  a  coffee-house  at  Oxford. 
Two  years  later  Pasqua  Rosee,-  a  Ragusan  servant  of  Mr.  Ed- 
wards, a  Turkey  merchant,  and  Bowman,  a  coachman,  opened 
the  first  coflTee-house  in  London.  Rosee  advertised  coflfee  as  a 
berry  grown  only  in  the  Arabian  deserts  and  a  drink  used  gen- 


698  SCIENTIFIC  INFORMATION. 

erally  throughout  the  Grand  Seigneur's  dominions.  A  simple, 
innocent  thing,  he  called  it;  mighty  good  to  help  digestion;  it 
quickened  the  spirits,  suppressed  the  fumes,  cured  the  gout, 
dropsy,  and  scurvy,  and  was  an  excellent  remedy,  according  to 
Rosee,  for  the  spleen  and  hypochondria;  the  steam  was  effica- 
cious for  sore  eyes,  and  the  use  of  it  made  the  skin  fair  and 
white.  About  1656  Mr.  Farr,  a  barber  who  had  perhaps  been 
in  the  Levant,  opened  a  coffee-house  in  London,  and  Sir  Henry 
Blount,  the  Levant  traveler,  became  one  of  his  patrons  and  fre- 
quent visitors.  There  seems  at  first  to  have  been  a  foolish 
notion  among  coffee-drinkers  that  the  coffee  should  be  taken 
scalding-hot,  and  its  enemies  naturally  made  great  fun  of  the 
rueful  faces  of  the  suffering  enthusiasts.  The  squib- writers  of 
the  day  ridiculed  the  broken  English  of  Rosee  and  his  partners 
and  their  quack  praises  of  the  new  drink,  which  was  black  as 
a  coal,  and  looked  like  physic.  But  coffee  was  not  to  be 
laughed  down,  and  a  satirist  soon  had  to  confess  that  it  lessened 
drunkenness: 

"  'And  now,  alas,  the  drench  has  credit  got, 
And  he 's  no  gentleman  that  drinks  it  not' 

"The  vintners  soon  grew  alarmed  at  the  growing  popularity 
of  coffee,  and  did  their  best  to  hinder  its  sale.  They  proclaimed 
that  coffee  was  deleterious  in  the  highest  degree,  and  it  was 
prophesied  that  the  children  of  coffee-drinkers  would  prove 
apes  and  pigmies.  Those  who  remembered  the  stalwart  days 
of  Ben  Jonson  lamented  the  degeneracy  of  the  age,  and  de- 
scribed the  coffee-house  keepers  as  laughing  to  themselves  at 
their  success  till  they  could  hardly  pour  out  the  sooty  broth,  the 
'loathsome  potion'  which  had  taken  the  place  of  'the  vine's 
pure  blood.' 

"  Farr  prospered;  but  he  seems  to  have  been  rather  careless 
about  his  flues,  and  the  pungent,  scorched  smell  of  the  coffee- 
roasting,  and  the  occasional  setting  on  fire  of  his  chimneys, 
vexed  his  envious  neighbors.  He  was  accordingly  pi'oceeded 
against  as  a  nuisance  at  a  presentment,  December  31,  1657 — 
that  is,  a  year  after  he  had  set  up.     The  indictment  ran: 

"'We  present  James  Farr,  barber,  for  making  and  selling  of 
a  drink  called  coffee,  whereby  in  making  the  same  he  annoyeth 
his  neighbors  by  evil  smells,  and  for  keeping  of  fire  for  the 


POISON  IN  THE  COFFEE-CUP.  699 

most  part  night  and  day,  whereby  his  chimney  and  chamber 
hath  been  set  on  fire,  to  the  great  danger  and  afTrightment  of 
his  neighbors.' 

"  Farr  was  not,  however,  to  be  turned  out  so  easily.  He  at- 
tended to  his  chimneys  and  repressed  the  fumes  of  the  coffee- 
roasting,  and  so  went  on  shaving  and  making  coffee  boldly,  and 
prospered." 

Coffee-houses  were  suppressed  in  London  as  nuisances  by 
Charles  II.  in  1675,  ^"'  '^®  proclamation  of  suppression  was 
shortly  afterward  suspended,  on  the  petition  of  the  traders  in 
tea  and  coffee.  About  the  close  of  the  seventeenth  century 
coffee-houses  were  very  common,  and  became  important  as 
means  of  social  and  political  intercourse  between  men  of  all 
classes.  In  some  important  resiDccts  they  filled  the  place  that 
is  now  filled  by  the  clubs  of  the  great  metropolis.  Some  were 
political  places  of  resort  for  only  one  party;  others  were  liter- 
ary. These  houses  exeixised  great  inffuence  in  the  formation 
of  political  and  literary  opinions,  as  they  were  patronized  by 
men  of  intelligence  and  of  the  highest  distinction. 

Poison  in  iphb  ^oppbb-gup. 

Sanitary  Superintendent  Day,  of  the  Health  Department, 
recently  presented  to  the  Commissioners  a  report  embodying 
the  results  of  an  investigation  in  regard  to  green  coffee  which 
had  been  adulterated  by  dangerous  coloring  matter.  It  was 
learned  that  green  Guatemala  and  Maracaibo  coffee  had  been 
taken  to  two  mills  in  Brooklyn,  and  had  there  been  treated  with 
coloring  matter,  so  as  to  make  them  resemble  Government  Java. 
This  deception  has  been  going  on  for  years.  The  officers  of 
the  Sanitary  Bureau  procured  samples  of  the  coloring  matter 
used,  and  also  of  the  unroasted  beans  so  treated.  They  found 
that  the  coloring  matter  contained  both  arsenic  and  lead;  also 
chrome  yellow,  chemically  known  as  chromate  of  lead;  Prus- 
sian blue,  known  to  chemists  as  ferro-cyanide  of  potassium; 
yellow  ochre,  which  frequently  contains  arsenic;  umber,  Vene- 
tian red,  lampblack  or  drop-black,  gum  arabic,  soapstone,  and 
charcoal.  A  careful  analysis  led  to  the  conclusion  that  every 
cup  of  coffee  made  from  the  colored  beans,  which  are  put  upon 
the  market  as  Java,  contains  one-sixtieth  of  a  grain  of  arsenious 
acid,  which  is  a  virulent  poison. 


700  SCIENTIFIC  INFORMATION. 

It  was  further  discovered  that  Rio  coffee,  which  frequently 
has  a  dull  gray  color  in  the  bean,  is  placed  in  a  large  revolving 
cylinder  and  is  polished  and  colored  by  being  treated  with 
a  mixture  of  chrome  yellow  and  Prussian  blue,  which  com- 
bined produce  a  handsome  green.  Some  of  the  dealers  who 
handle  these  coffees  asserted  that  they  were  not  aware  of  the 
poisonous  nature  of  the  coloring  matter  used,  and  supposed 
that  whatever  was  deleterious  in  the  chemicals  would  be  vola- 
tilized and  destroyed  by  the  roasting  process.  The  chemists 
who  made  the  analyses,  however,  say  that  it  requires  an  almost 
white-heat  to  destroy  the  arsenic,  but  even  then  the  lead  will 
still  remain.  The  Health  Department  has  notified  the  persons 
engaged  in  preparing  and  handling  the  colored  coffees  that 
these  practices  must  cease  in  the  future,  and  if  persisted  in  they 
will  render  themselves  liable  to  arrest  and  punishment. 

Some  Fagts  about  I^eppbi^minit. 

It  may  not  be  generally  known,  but  it  is  nevertheless  the 
fact,  that  the  United  States  is  the  leading  producer  of  pepper- 
mint and  peppermint  oil  in  the  world.  It  is  principally  grown 
in  the  State  of  Michigan  and  in  Wayne  county,  New  York. 
Our  production  of  the  oil  in  1878  reached  as  high  as  150,000 
pounds,  but  in  1883  the  yield  was  computed  at  not  more  than 
35,000  pounds.  This  year  a  larger  acreage  has  been  planted, 
but  prices  have  advanced  on  account  of  the  decreased  stocks. 
The  usual  annual  consumption  of  the  world  is  about  100,000 
pounds,  but  it  is  expected  there  will  be  a  considerable  increase 
this  year,  as  also  in  other  essential  oils,  on  account  of  appre- 
hension of  cholera.  Peppermint  is  grown  to  best  advantage  in 
good  garden  soils,  but  requires  an  abundance  of  moisture.  An 
acre  will  grow  plants  enough  to  yield  from  eight  to  fifteen 
pounds  of  oil,  according  to  the  age  of  the  plant  and  the  local- 
ity, and  the  price  is  from  $3.25  to  $3.75  a  pound.  There  are  no 
large  farms  entirely  devoted  to  this  product,  but  it  is  cultivated 
in  small  quantities  by  many  farmers.  It  is  used  in  medicine, 
confectionery,  and  for  perfumery,  and  is  diluted  with  alcohol 
and  water  to  make  essence  of  peppermint.  It  is  also  largely 
used  by  sanitary  engineers  for  testing  joints  and  traps,  a  few 
drops  poured  into  a  wash-bowl  or  closet  making  its  presence 
sensible  to  smell  at  any  imperfect  joints  in  a  pipe  leading  there- 


UNDER  THE  SEA.  701 

from,  its  pungent  odor  not  being  apparently  at  all  affected  by 
the  sewer-gases.  Peppermint  is  to  a  considerable  extent  adul- 
terated with  castor-oil,  oil  of  turpentine,  and  oil  of  pennyroyal, 
but  these  adulterations  can  be  detected  without  much  difficulty. 

^HAT  THE  DlYBI^  SEES. 
The  first  sensation  in  descending  under  water  in  a  suit  of  ar- 
mor is  the  sudden  bursting  roar  in  the  cars,  caused  by  the  air 
driven  into  the  helmet  from  the  air-pump.  The  flexible  air-hose 
has  to  be  strong  enough  to  bear  a  pressure  of  twenty-five  to 
fifty  pounds  to  the  square  inch.  The  drum  of  the  ear  yields  to 
the  strong  external  pressure,  the  mouth  opens  involuntarily,  the 
air  rushes  into  the  tube  and  strikes  the  drum,  which  strikes 
back  to  its  normal  state  with  a  sharp,  pistol-like  crack.  Peer- 
ing through  the  goggle  eyes  of  glass  in  his  helmet,  the  diver 
sees  the  strange  beauties  about  him  clearly  and  in  their  own 
calm  splendor.  Above  him  is  a  pure  golden  canopy,  while 
around  him  and  beside  hiin  are  tints  and  shimmering  hues,  in- 
cluding all  colors,  which  are  indescribably  elegant.  The  floor 
of  the  sea  rises  like  a  golden  carpet,  inclining  gently  to  the 
surface.  The  change  of  familiar  objects  is  wonderful.  The 
wreck  of  a  ship  seems  studded  with  emeralds,  glittering  in  lines 
of  gold,  piles  of  brick  assume  the  appearance  of  crystal,  a  lad- 
der becomes  silver,  every  shadow  gives  the  impression  of  a 
bottomless  depth. 

Undbi^  the  Sea. 

Prof  Verrill  recently  delivered  a  lecture  on  some  of  the 
strange  facts  about  the  sea.  Some  extracts  from  it  may  be  of 
interest. 

As  to  the  quantity  of  light  at  the  bottom  of  the  sea,  there  has 
been  much  dispute.  Animals  dredged  from  below  seven  hun- 
dred fathoms  either  have  no  eyes,  or  faint  indications  of  them, 
or  else  their  eyes  are  very  large  and  protruding.  Another 
strange  thing  is  that  if  the  creatures  in  those  lower  depths  have 
any  color,  it  is  orange  or  red,  or  reddish  orange.  Sea  anemones, 
corals,  shrimps,  and  crabs  have  this  brilliant  color.  Sometimes 
it  is  pure  red  or  scarlet,  and  in  many  specimens  it  inclines  to- 
ward purple.  Not  a  green  or  blue  fish  is  found.  The  orange- 
red  is  the  fish's  protection,  for  the  bluish-green  light  in  the 
bottom  of  the  ocean  makes  the  orange  or  red  fish  appear  of  a 


702  SCIENTIFIC  INFORMATION. 

neutral  tint  and  hides  it  from  its  enemies.  Many  animals  are 
black,  others  neutral  in  color.  Some  fish  are  provided  with 
boring  tails,  so  that  they  can  burrow  the  mud.  Finally,  the 
surface  of  the  submarine  mountain  is  covered  with  shells  like 
an  ordinary  sea-beach,  showing  that  it  is  the  eating-house  of 
vast  shoals  of  carnivorous  animals.  A  cod-fish  takes  a  whole 
oyster  into  his  mouth,  cracking  the  shells,  and  sucks  out  the 
meat.  In  that  way  come  whole  mounds  of  shells  that  are 
dredged  up.  Not  a  fish-bone  was  ever  dredged  up.  A  piece 
of  wood  may  be  dredged  up  once  a  year,  but  it  is  honey- 
combed by  the  boring  shell-fish,  and  falls  to  pieces  at  the  touch 
of  the  hand.  This  shows  what  destruction  is  constantly  going 
on  in  those  depths.  If  a  ship  sinks  at  sea,  with  all  on  board,  it 
would  be  eaten  by  fish,  with  the  exception  of  the  metal,  which 
would  corrode  and  disappear.  Not  a  bone  of  a  human  body 
would  remain  after  a  few  days.  It  is  a  constant  display  of  the 
law  of  the  survival  of  the  fittest.  Nothing  made  by  the  hand 
of  man  was  dredged  up  after  cruising  for  months  in  the  track 
of  ocean  vessels  excepting  coal  clinkers  shoved  overboard  from 
steamships.  Here  Professor  Verrill  corrected  himself.  Twenty- 
five  miles  from  land  he  dredged  up  an  India-rubber  doll.  That, 
he  said,  was  one  thing  the  fish  could  not  eat. 

The  fish  supply  of  Russian  lakes  and  rivers  is  enormous. 
Recent  statistics  show  how  great  is  the  catch.  During  the  last 
year  9,000,000  hundred- weight  of  fish  were  caught  in  the  Cas- 
pian Sea.  In  the  Sea  of  Azof  and  the  rivers  Don  and  Dneiper 
more  than  4,000,000  hundred-weight  were  caught.  In  the 
Black 'Sea  about  8,000,000  hundred-weight;  in  the  White  Sea 
and  the  Frozen  Ocean  500,000  hundred- weight;  in  the  Baltic 
not  less  than  2,000,000  hundred-weight — the  total  of  these  num- 
bers being  800,000  tons  of  fish. 

It  has  been  ascertained  by  sounding  that  the  roaring  waves 
and  the  mightiest  billows  of  the  ocean  repose,  not  upon  hard 
and  troubled  beds,  but  upon  cushions  of  still  water;  that  every- 
where at  the  bottom  of  the  deep  sea  the  solid  ribs  of  the  earth 
are  protected,  as  with  a  garment,  from  the  abrading  action  of 
its  currents;  that  the  cradle  of  its  restless  waves  is  lined  by  a 
stratum  of  water  at  rest,  that  it  can  neither  wear  nor  move  the 
lightest  bit  of  drift-stuff'  that  lodges  there. 


HOW  VENETIAN  BEADS  ARE  MADE.  703 

I70W  Ubnbiiian  Beads  ai^b  CQadb. 

I  have  seen  them  make  beads  in  Venice,  and  a  very  interest- 
ing w^ork  it  is.  A  man  takes  a  cylinder  of  glass,  say  two  inches 
thick  by  seven  or  eight  inches  long,  so  hot  that  it  is  soft,  rolls  it 
smoothly  round  on  a  table  and  punches  a  hole  through  it  length- 
wise with  an  iron  rod.  Then  two  boys  seize  its  end  with  pinch- 
ers and  run  away  rapidly  in  opposite  directions.  The  faster 
they  run  and  the  further  they  go  before  the  glass  cools  so  that 
it  will  no  longer  draw,  the  finer  will  be  the  rod  they  will  pull 
it  out  to,  and  thin  as  it  may  be  that  rod  will  be  hollow  all  the 
way  through.  But  it  will  not  all  be  of  the  same  thickness.  In 
the  center  it  will  be  very  thin,  and  toward  the  ends  will  be  less 
so.  Therefore  the  workman  breaks  it  up  into  short  rods,  and 
carefully  sorts  them  to  get  together  those  of  like  diameter. 
Then  the  beads  are  cut  from  the  ends  of  those  rods,  a  handful 
of  them  at  a  time,  as  you  would  cut  off  bits  from  a  bunch  of 
grass.  How  they  do  that  I  never  quite  understood.  There  is 
something  in  it  I  did  not  learn,  for  the  rods  are  cold.  The 
beads  are  cut  off  without  smashing  the  most  delicate,  and  with 
the  greatest  accu4"acy  in  length.  All  I  can  say  is  that  they  do 
it,  and  for  the  proof  there  are  the  beads.  Now,  to  smooth  the 
the  ends  of  those  little  bits,  which  have  sharp  edges,  quantities 
of  them  are  put  in  big  drums  with  ashes,  and  at  a  pretty  high 
temperature  are  revolved  there  until  they  are  round  and  smooth. 
If  they  are  to  be  sold  merely  as  round  "  seed  "  beads  they  are  at 
this  point  finished,  and  are  put  upon  strings  by  children.  The 
rapidity  with  which  that  is  done  is  astonishing.  Each  child  has 
before  it  a  great  pile  of  the  beads,  and  in  each  hand  holds  four 
or  five  long  threaded  needles,  which  are  rapidly  thrust  into  the 
pile  until  each  needle  is  full,  when  the  beads  are  pushed  back 
on  the  threads.  An  attempt  has  been  made  to  introduce  un- 
strung beads,  but  consumers  would  not  have  them.  The  string- 
ing is  the  practical  evidence  that  each  bead  is  perfect,  and  that 
is  demanded. 

There  is  still  another  way  in  which  beads  are  made  in  Venice, 
and  that  is  over  a  lamp  that  keeps  a  glass  red-hot  while  the  arti- 
san molds  other  colored  glasses  on  it,  or  shapes  it  into  the  strange 
forms  you  have  seen  among  the  old  samples.  In  that  branch 
of  manufacture,  however,  the  skilled  glass-workers  of  Bohemia, 


704  SCIENTIFIC  INFORMATION. 

Thurlngia,  and  Paris  come  into  direct  competition,  especially  in 
the  production  of  the  beautiful  rather  than  the  quaint  in  bead- 
work.  To  revert  to  the  great  staple  product — the  rouad  seed 
beads.  If  it  is  desired  to  still  further  increase  their  beauty  and 
value,  they  are  sent  to  Bohemia,  where,  around  Gablouz  and 
Liebenau  mainly,  they  are  cut.  That  work  I  have  never  seen 
done,  and  how  it  is  done  I  don't  know.  I  only  know^  that  the 
workmen  there  are  capable  of  taking  round  beads  as  small  as 
the  very  smallest  pin-heads  and  accurately  grinding  on  them 
from  three  to  five  smooth  polished  faces  as  may  be  required. 
The  more  they  are  cut  the  more  valuable  they  are.  Here,  for 
instance,  are  some  ruby- colored  ones  cut  five  times — mere 
specks,  you  see — which  are  worth  to  import  about  $12.50  a 
pound.  They  are  sold  in  bunches.  Each  bunch  consists  of  100 
strings,  upon  each  of  which  are  ten  dozens  of  beads,  and  the 
bunch  is  worth  $1.25  wholesale.  Retailers  generally  make  from 
80  to  100  per  cent,  profit  on  them.  Those  fine-cut  beads  are 
used  in  making  those  fine  dress-trimmings  that  sometimes  sell 
as  high  as  $20  a  yard.  Diff'erence  in  color  of  seed  beads  makes 
no  difference  in  price,  and  size  does  not  very  greatly  affect  val- 
ue, but  the  cutting  does  enormously.  The  cheapest  kinds  are 
only  worth  twelve  cents  a  pound. 

Of  the  fine  and  high-priced  hollow  ball  beads — Roman 
pearls,  mirror  beads,  etc. — which  are  much  used  for  necklaces 
for  ball,  opera,  and  wedding-dresses,  the  best  come  from  Paris. 
Each  bead  is  made  separately — blown  at  the  end  of  a  tube  of 
soft  glass,  and  shaped  as  required,  either  by  hand  or  in  a  mold. 
If  it  is  to  imitate  a  pearl,  its  interior  is  coated  with  a  preparation 
made  from  the  scales  of  a  certain  kind  of  fish  taken  in  the  Med- 
iterranean, and  that  is  protected  by  wax.  In  the  cheap  kind 
only  one  or  two  coatings  of  w^ax  will  be  given,  but  the  best  are 
filled  up  solid,  which  gives  them  much  greater  strength.  Col- 
ors ai'e  given  them  by  tinting  the  wax.  For  the  mirror  beads  a 
quicksilvering  like  that  used  to  make  looking-glasses  must  be 
laid  on  a  coating  inside.  The  workmen  have  to  suck  it  up  into 
the  little  bulbs — a  very  unhealthy  occupation.  These  pearl 
beads  range  in  price  from  $4  a  gross  of  strings  ten  inches  long 
up  to  $5  or  $6  a  dozen  for  strings  of  the  same  length.  Size  af- 
fects their  value,  but  not  a  great  deal.  They  are  in  all  possible 
tints,  and  it  is  an  interesting  fact  that  if  you  should  have  a  hun- 


CELLULOID.  706 

dred  kinds  of  them  some  woman  would  be  certain  to  come  in 
and  demand  one  kind  you  had  not. 

The  attempt  has  been  made  to  manufacture  beads  in  this 
country,  but,  except  for  the  immediate  supply  of  a  particuhir 
demand  at  a  cost  live  times  that  of  the  imported  article,  the  en- 
deavor has  been  a  failure.  The  seed  beads  and  bugles — elon- 
gated beads — for  dress-trimmings  made  in  Venitc  amount  to 
some  2,000,000  francs  per  annum,  and  the  United  States  is  the 
sixth  largest  consumer  of  that  supply. 

GJblluloid. 

The  Journal  of  the  British  Dental  Association  quotes  from  Le 
Progres  Dentaire  a  description  of  the  process  carried  out  at  a 
factory  near  Paris  for  the  production  of  celluloid: 

A  roll  of  paper  is  slowly  unwound,  and  is  at  the  same  time 
saturated  with  a  mixture  of  five  parts  of  sulphuric  acid  and 
two  of  nitiic,  which  falls  upon  the  paper  in  a  fine  spray.  This 
changes  the  cellulose  of  the  paper  into  pyroxyline  (gun-cotton). 
The  excess  of  acid  having  been  expelled  by  pressure,  the  paper 
is  washed  with  plenty  of  water  until  all  traces  of  acid  have 
been  removed;  it  is  then  reduced  to  pulp,  and  passes  on  to  the 
bleaching-trough.  Most  of  the  water  having  been  got  rid  of 
by  means  of  a  strainer,  the  pulp  is  mixed  with  from  20  to  40 
per  cent,  of  its  weight  of  camphor,  and  the  mixture  thoroughly 
triturated  under  millstones.  The  necessary  coloring  matter 
having  been  added  in  the  form  of  powder,  a  second  mixing 
and  grinding  follows.  The  finely  divided  pulp  is  then  laid  out 
in  thin  layers  on  slabs,  and  from  twenty  to  twenty-five  of  these 
layers  are  placed  in  a  hydraulic  press,  separated  from  one  an- 
other by  sheets  of  thick  blotting-paper,  and  are  subjected  to  a 
pressure  of  150  atmospheres  until  all  traces  of  moisture  have 
been  got  rid  of.  The  plates  thus  obtained  are  broken  up  and 
soaked  for  twenty-four  hours  in  alcohol.  The  matter  is  then 
passed  between  rollers  heated  to  between  140°  and  150"  Fah., 
whence  it  issues  in  the  form  of  elastic  slreets.  Celluloid  is 
made  to  imitate  amber,  tortoise-shell,  coral,  malachite,  ebony, 
ivory,  etc!,  and  besides  its  employment  in  dentistry  is  used  to 
make  mouth-pieces  for  pipes  and  cigar-holders,  handles  for 
table-knives  and  umbrellas,  combs,  shirt-fronts  and  collars,  and 
a  number  of  fancy  articles. 
45 


706  scientific  information. 

Some  Sti^ange  CQetals. 

Some  of  the  metals  which  are  famihar  enough  to  the  chemist, 
though  rarely  seen  outside  his  laboratory,  have  so  little  in  com- 
mon with  the  metals  of  every-day  life  as  to  scarcely  seem  to 
belong  to  the  same  class  of  substances.  We  commonly  think 
of  a  metal  as*  being  heavy,  yet  sodium  and  potassium  will  float 
on  water,  and  lithium  is  the  lightest  of  all  known  solids.  The 
fact  is  that  the  word  "metal"  is  one  of  the  hardest  in  the  lan- 
guage to  define.  The  metals  all  have  a  jDeculiar  luster,  to  be 
sure,  which  from  its  association  has  come  to  be  called  metallic; 
but  many  minerals,  as  galena  and  black-lead,  which  most  cer- 
tainly are  not  metals,  have  the  same  appearance,  and  so  on 
through  the  list  of  properties.  The  chemical  relations  of  the 
metals  give  good  reasons  for  placing  these  substances  by  them- 
selves, though  even  here  the  lines  are  not  clearly  marked. 

One  of  the  most  distinctive  properties  of  the  metals  is  their 
power  to  form,  when  combined  with  acids,  a  class  of  bodies 
called  salts — on  account  of  their  resemblance  to  common  salt, 
which  contains  about  forty  per  cent,  of  the  metal  sodium.  This 
metal  is  a  bluish-white  waxy  solid,  and  has  such  a  great  tend- 
ency to  rust,  or  unite  with  the  oxygen  in  the  air,  that  it  must 
be  kept  in  some  oil,  like  petroleum,  which  contains  no  oxygen. 

If  a  bit  of  sodium  be  thrown  upon  a  piece  of  ice  the  metal 
takes  fire,  and  any  attempt  to  put  it  out  by  pouring  water  on 
it  would  only  be  adding  fuel  to  the  flame. 

The  sodium-match  is  an  application  of  this  peculiar  property 
of  the  metal.  It  is  merely  a  bit  of  wood  tipped  with  sodium, 
and  which  can  of  course  be  lighted  on  the  stormiest  day  by  the 
mere  contact  of  a  rain-drop'.  The  matches  are,  however,  de- 
cidedly dangerous,  and  their  manufacture  is  generally  pro- 
hibited. 

Potassium,  which  is  obtained  from  potash,  is  another  metal 
very  similar  to  sodium,  and  will  take  fire  upon  ice  or  in  water 
even  more  readily  "than  this  last-named  metal.  A  small  piece 
of  potassium  thrown  into  a  jar  of  water  apparently  takes  fire 
at  once,  and  swims  about  with  great  rapidity,  burning  all  the 
time  with  a  brilliant  violet  flame. 

One  may  be  forgiven  if  his  ideas  on  combustion  ai^e  some- 
what upset  by  the  first  sight  of  this  phenomenon,  but  there  is 


HOME  STRANGE  METALS.  707 

really  nothing  very  strange  about  it.  Water  is  a  compound  of 
hydrogen  and  oxygen,  and  these  metals — sodium  and  potassi- 
iim — have  so  strong  an  attraction  for  oxygen  that  they  will  take 
it  wherever  they  can  find  it,  even  from  water.  This,  of  course, 
sets  the  hydrogen  free,  which  is  set  on  fire  by  the  heat  given 
off  when  the  potassium  and  oxygen  unite,  and  burns  with  a  vi- 
olet color  because  of  the  vapor  of  the  metal.  The  same  is  true 
in  the  case  of  the  sodium;  the  flame  is  due  to  the  burning  hy- 
drogen rather  than  the  metal. 

Sodium,  potassium,  and  lithium — with  several  other  metals — 
form  a  group  known  as  the  alkali  metals.  There  is  another 
group,  to  which  iron  belongs,  which  contains  an  interesting 
member  called  aluminum — sometimes  aluminium — from  its  oc- 
currence in  common  alum. 

Aluminum  is  a  beautiful  metal,  much  like  silver  in  appear- 
ance, and  possesses  many  valuable  properties.  It  is  very  so- 
norous, easily  worked,  docs  not  tarnish  in  the  air,  and  is  only 
about  one-fourth  as  heavy  as  silver.  It  conducts  electricity 
eight  times  better  than  iron.  Added  to  this,  it  occurs  in  greater 
quantity  than  any  other  metal  in  the  world.  Every  clay-bank, 
every  granite-bed,  is  a  mine  of  aluminum,  but  as  yet  no  cheap 
and  ready  means  of  obtaining  the  metal  has  been  found,  in  spite 
of  all  attempts.  Napoleon  offered  a  large  reward  to  any  one 
discovering  such  a  process,  as,  on  account  of  its  lightness,  he 
wished  to  use  the  metal  in  his  army  for  helmets  and  cuirasses. 

It  is  hardly  possible  to  give  an  exact  statement  of  the  amount 
of  aluminum  in  different  clays,  since  the  composition  of  these 
earths  varies  greatly.  Clays  are  impure  silicates  of  aluminum, 
and  generally  speaking  a  good  brick  clay  contains  a  tenth  or 
more  by  weight  of  the  metal.  This  would  be  sufficient  to  plate 
the  upper  surface  of  the  bricks,  as  they  are  commonly  laid  in 
sidewalks,  with  a  layer  of  metallic  aluminum  a  fifth  of  an  inch 
deep.  Or  this  same  amount  of  metal  would  form  a  layer  one- 
third  of  an  inch  deep  on  the  outside  of  the  bricks  as  they  are 
laid  in  our  houses.  So  we  find  this  hidden  metal  every- where 
about  us,  and  a  princely  fortune  awaits  the  man  who  can  bring 
it  to  the  light. 

Forty  tons  of  silver  and  three  tons  of  gold  are  annually  con- 
sumed in  this. country  in  the  manufacture  of  photographs. 


708  SCIENTIFIC  INFORMATION. 

gUBEI^   Fl^BAI^S  OP   ^AiTGHES. 

"  Decidedly  watches  are  queer  things,"  says  D.  H.  Hopkinson, 
of  the  Jeweler's  Circular.  ''They  possess  some  unaccountable 
peculiarities.  For  instance,  some  time  about  the  beginning  of 
last  summer,  when  there  had  been  a  succession  of  fine  displays 
of  the  aurora  borealis,  it  was  estimated  that  in  a  single  night  in 
the  city  of  New  York  the  mainsprings  of  not  less  than  three 
thousand  watches  broke.  This  estimate  is  based  on  actual  in- 
quiries. Fine  sensitive  watches  are  particularly  liable  to  be  af- 
fected by  electrical  atmospheric  disturbances.  During  the 
months  of  June,  July,  and  August,  when  these  phenomena  are 
most  frequent,  there  are  more  mainsprings  broken  than  during 
all  the  remaining  months  of  the  year.  They  break  in  a  variety 
of  ways,  sometimes  snapping  into  as  many  as  twenty-seven 
pieces, 

"  It  is  a  fact  that  since  the  introduction  of  the  electric  light 
has  become  so  general  a  large  number  of  watches,  some  of  them 
very  fine  ones,  have  become  magnetized.  While  in  this  condi- 
tion they  are.  useless  as  time-keepers.  This  defect  used  to  be 
considered  incurable,  and  because  of  it  thousands  of  watches 
have  been  thrown  away  after  much  money  had  been  spent  on 
them  in  vain  attempts  to  persuade  them  to  keep  good  time. 
Among  the  methods  resorted  to  were  washing  the  parts  in  gar- 
lic juice,  refinishing,  and  parsing  them  through  the  fire.  But 
all  these  devices  were  entire  failures  or  only  in  part  effective. 
I  know  of  a  man  who  had  a  fine  and  valuable  movement  which 
kept  excellent  time.  He  transferred  it  from  a  silver  case  to  a 
second-hand  gold  one.  Immediately  it  lost  all  of  its  character- 
istics of  steadiness  and  reliability,  and,  in  fact,  did  not  keep  time 
at  all.  When  replaced  in  the  silver  case  it  kept  good  time  again. 
The  owner,  a  jeweler,  puzzled  himself  and  experimented  in  vain 
to  discover  the  cause  of  this  strange  partiality  on  the  part  of  his 
watch  for  silver.  At  length  he  sent  it  to  an  expert.  He  dis- 
covered that  the  lifting-spring  of  the  gold  case  had  become 
magnetized.  On  substituting  another  for  it  the  watch  kept  as 
good  time  in  the  gold  case  as  in  the  silver  case. 

"  There  are  occasions  when  it  is  a  very  serious  matter  to  have 
your  watch  magnetized.  The  most  striking  instance  in  point 
is  one  which  lately  came  under  my  notice.     Captain  W.  R. 


QUEER  FREAKS  OF  WATCH  EH.  709 

Smith  commands  the  steamer  Delaware,  which  plies  between 
New  York  and  New  London.  Before  putting  to  sea  on  a  re- 
cent voyage  he  was  invited  to  inspect  an  electric  light  dynamo 
iTiachine,  and  examined  its  parts  closely.  Soon  after  getting  on 
board  the  steamer  he  observed  that  the  compass  became  strange- 
ly affected  when  he  approached  it.  Whether  he  stood  on  the 
right  or  the  left,  or  immediately  in  front  of  the  compass,  the 
needle  would  invariably  point  to  him.  The  compass  was  worse 
thar^  useless  when  he  came  near  it.  It  was  dangerous,  and 
might  wreck  the  ship.  You  can  imagine  that  this  phenomenon 
.alarmed  and  puzzled  Captain  Smith  not  a  little.  At  length  he 
recalled  his  visit  to  the  dynamo  machine  and  the  true  solution 
of  the  eccentric  behavior  of  the  needle  flashed  upon  him.  His 
watch  had  become  magnetized.  When  he  removed  it  the  nee- 
dle resumed  its  constancy  to  the  polar  star.  On  his  return  to 
the  city  he  took  the  watch  to  Mathey  Brothers  &  Mathey,  who 
demagnetized  it  for  him.  This  firm  has  invented  some  machine, 
the  mechanism  of  which  is  a  secret,  by  which  they  demag- 
netize a  magnetized  watch  speedily  and  effectually.  They  get 
watches  sent  them  from  all  parts  of  the  world  to  be  thus  treated. 

"  Watches  frequently  get  magnetized  in  iron  mines  or  in  ma- 
chine shops,  where  they  are  incautiously  brought  near  swiftly- 
running  belts.  I  knew  a  workman  who  used  to  hang  his  watch 
between  the  parts  of  a  running  belt.  He  expended  a  small  for- 
tune on  mainsprings. 

"It  is  a  well-known  fact  among  horologists  that  no  watch 
will  keep  the  same  time  with  two  people.  The  cause  has  not  yet 
been  definitely  ascertained,  but  it  would  seem  that  in  some 
mysterious  way  a  watch  is  affected  by  the  temperature  of  the 
weai-er.  The  mere  physical  difference  in  gait  and  movement 
between  different  people  is  not  sufficient  to  account  for  all  the 
variations  that  have  been  observed." 

The  population  of  the  United  States  increases  at  the  rate  of 
thirty-two  per  cent,  every  ten  years.  At  this  rate  there  will  be 
eighty-eight  million  inhabitants  in  1900.     ' 

A  bag  of  charcoal  suspended  in  a  cistern  will  purify  the 
water,  and  meat  wrapped  in  a  cloth  and  packed  in  charcoal 
will  keep  fresh  for  weeks. 


710  scientific  information. 

Selesgopbs. 

In  the  archives  at  La  Hague  are  documents  which  show  that 
John  Lippershey,  of  Middlebourg,  on  Oct.  2,  1608,  addressed 
a  petition  to  the  States-general  praying  for  a  patent  for  an  in- 
strument which  enables  one  to  see  afar.  A  committee  of  the 
assembly  tried  the  instrument  on  October  4,  from  the  tower  of 
Prince  Maurice's  mansion.  On  the  6th  this  committee  of  grave 
Dutchmen  reported  that  the  instrument  would  be  of  public 
value  if  it  were  so  perfected  as  to  permit  the  use  of  both  eyes 
at  once.  Perhaps  the  members  of  the  committee  thought  it 
would  require  too  much  time  for  adults  like  themselves  to  ac- 
quire the  art  of  shutting  one  eye.  Perhaps  the  idea  shocked 
them  that  with  such  an  instrument  a  Dutchman's  dignity  would 
be  imperiled;  perhaps  they  pictured  to  themselves  the  time 
when  the  instrument  would  be  common,  and  their  grave  coun- 
trymen would  traverse  the  country  monocularly  inspecting  the 
horizon;,  perhaps  they  had  an  eye  to  the  dignity  of. the  most 
gi'ave  and  reverent  stadtholder,  when  inspecting  the  enemy's 
lines  on  the  field  of  battle,  or  in  some  safe  spot  adjacent  to  it. 
Whatever  the  reason  may  have  been,  Lippershey  inust  make  a 
double-barreled  instrument  before  it  would  receive  the  attention 
of  his  Government,  and  his  attention  was  thus  diverted  toward 
a  detail  of  small  importance.  And  how  did  Lippershey  find 
this  capital  combination  of  lenses  from  which  were  developed 
the  perspective,  the  opera,  field,  and  marine  glass  and  the  tele- 
scope? History  is  silent  on  the  question,  but  tradition  gives 
several  stories.  One  ancient  chronicler  says  that  an  unknown 
individual — man  or  demon,  he  does  not  know  which — ordered 
of  Lippershey,  who  was  a  spectacle-maker,,  several  convex  and 
concave  lenses.  He  returned  on  the  day  for  getting  them,  took 
a  concave  and  a  convex  lens,  placed  them  in  a  line  before  his 
eyes  without  intimating  the  cause  of  this  procedure,  paid,  and 
disajDpeared.  Lippershey  was  curious,  tried  the  same  combi- 
nation, recognized  the  enlargement,  and  fitted  the  lenses  in  a 
tube,  thus  constructing  a  field-glass,  or  telescope.  Another 
story  is  that  the  proper  combination  happened  accidentally  to 
his  children  at  play,  who  then  happened  to  turn  it  on  a  weather- 
cock on  a  tower.  The  surprise  of  the  children  at  its  apparent 
nearness  awakened  the  attention  of  Lippershey,  and  resulted 
in  the  instrument. 


DOUBLE  STARS.  711 

But  it  is  to  Galileo  that  we  owe  the  idea  of  the  astronomical 
use  of  the  telescope.  The  Dutch  seem  to  have  considered  it 
only  a  perspective.  Having  heard  some  account  of  the  Dutch 
invention,  he  set  himself  to  work  to  re-invent,  with  such  suc- 
cess that  his  instrument  awakened  intense  popular  interest  in 
Venice,  and  the  republic  rewarded  him  in  1609.  His  telescopes 
magnified  but  little;  yet,  in  his  competent  hands,  they  resulted 
in  a  flood  of  discoveries,  which  we  cannot  begin  to  enumerate. 
With  small  instruments,  correlatives  of  our  opera-glasses,  the 
triumphant  astronomer  revealed  in  a  few  months  more  of  the 
universe  than  all  the  preceding  ages  had  found,  and  shook  to 
its  foundations  the  Aristotelian  philosophy,  to  which  the  great- 
est men  had  yielded  complete  allegiance  for  two  thousand  years. 
So  absolute  was  the  overthrow  of  opinions  before  unquestioned 
that  many  took  refuge  in  utter  incredulity,  and  refused  to  sub- 
mit to  their  senses  the  proofs  of  their  own  simplicity.  "Ye 
men  of  Galileo,  why  stand  ye  looking  up  into  the  heavens?" 
was  the  text  of  a  Jesuit  sermon  intended  to  overwhelm  the 
daring  philosopher  with  ridicule.  "O  my  dear  Kepler,"  says 
Galileo,  in  a  letter  as  quoted  by  Grant,  "  how  I  wish  we  could 
have  one  hearty  laugh  together!  Here  at  Padua  is  the  principal 
professor  of  philosophy,  whom  I  have  repeatedly  and  earnestly 
requested  to  look  at  the  moon  and  planets  through  my  glass, 
which  he  pertinaciously  refuses  to  do."  The, new  planets  were 
the  work  of  imagination,  they  were  in  the  telescope,  they  were 
the  work  of  magic.  The  heavens  were  unchangeable;  and, 
had  the  new  planets  been  there,  they  would  have  been  seen 
before.  The  instruments  spread  rapidly  through  the  learned 
world.  Within  two  years  they  could  be  found  every-where 
from  Scotland  to  Italy. 

Double  Stains. 

Many  stars  that  appear  single  to  the  naked  eye  are  found  to 
consist  of  two  stars  close  to  each  other  when  examined  through 
a  powerful  telescope.  They  are  called  d9uble  stars,  and  about 
six  thousand  have  been  observed  by  astronomers. 

There  ai"e  two  classes  of  double  stars.  The  first  class  con- 
tains those  optically  double.  These  appear  double  because  they 
are  nearly  in  the  same  line  of  vision  as  seen  from  the  earth. 


712  SCIENTIFIC  INFORMATION. 

though  they  have  no   connection,  and   one  star   may  be  very 
much  nearer  to  us  than  the  other. 

The  second  class  contains  those  physically  double,  or  binary 
stars,  w^here  one  star  revolves  about  the  other,  or  where  each 
revolves  round  the  center  of  gravity  common  to  the  pair,  form- 
ing a  binary  system.' 

Nearly  seven  hundred  double  stars  have  been  found  to  per- 
form such  a  revolution.  This  is  generally  very  slow,  requiring 
centuries  for  its  completion.  A  few  binary  stars,  however,  re- 
volve so  rapidly  that  a  complete  revolution  has  taken  place  since 
they  were  first  obsei*ved.  There  are  at  least  twelve  whose 
period  is  less  than  a  century. 

Besides  the  binary  stars,  groups  of  three  or  more  stars  are 
found  that  are  physically  connected.  These  are  known  as  triple, 
quadruple,  and  multiple  stars. 

The  coloi's  of  double  stars  are  superbly  brilliant  and  varied. 
The  components  often  shine  in  contrasted  colors,  one  being  blue 
and  the  other  yellow,  or  one  being  green  and  the  other  yellow. 
Sometimes  the  companions  are  purple  and  white,  or  red  and 
white,  or  both  are  white. 

A  few  stars  are  known  as  naked-eye  doubles.  One  is  a  small 
star  in  Lyra,  near  the  bright  Vega.  A  shai"p-eyed  observer  may 
see  it  double.  Bessel  did  so  at  the  age  of  thirteen  years.  A  low 
power  of  the  telescope  will  separate  it  into  two  white  stars, 
wide  apart.  A  high  power  will  separate  each  of  the  compo- 
nents into  two  stars.  This  tiny  star  is  therefore  a  double  double, 
forming  a  quadruple  system. 

A  beautiful  double  star  easy  to  find  is  Albires,  in  the  beak  of 
the  Swan.  One  of  the  components  is  of  the  third  and  the  other 
of  the  fifth  magnitude.  The  colors  are  golden-yellow  and  sap- 
phire-blue. 

We  can  only  touch  upon  this  grand  field  for  study,  for  these 
double  stars  are  all  suns.  Neither  can  we  imagine  the  grandeur 
of  a  complex  system  in  which  blue,  green,  and  crimson  suns 
circle  slowly  round  each  other,  perhaps  accomjDanied  by  retinues 
of  planets.  Our  sun  and  his  dark  family  dwrndle  into  insignifi- 
cance in  comparison,  though  suns  great  and  small,  single,  double, 
or  multiple,  are  held  together  by  the  same  law  that  keeps  the 
pebble  in  its  place  on  this  little  earth. 


suN-SFOTS.  ns 

Sun-spots. 

Our  nearest  neighbor  among  the  stars  is  Alpha  of  the  Cen« 
taur,  a  brilliant  southern  star  more  than  two  hundred  thousand 
times  as  distant  from  us  as  we  arc  from  the  sun.  If  our  sun 
were  as  far  away  as  Alpha,  he  would  shine  as  a  star  of  the  sec- 
ond magnitude  in  our  sky.  If  he  were  removed  as  far  as  Sirius, 
he  would  shine  as  a  star  of  the  fifth  magnitude,  and  would  be 
scarcely  visible,  except  on  clear,  moonless  nights. 

Our  sun  belongs  to  the  second  class  of  stars,  for  stars  are 
arranged  in  classes  according  to  age.  The  bluish-white  stars 
like  Sirius  and  Vega,  are  the  youngest  of  the  suns  of  space, 
and  belong  to  the  first  class.  The  ytUowish-white  stars  like 
Capella  and  the  sun,  belong  to  the  second  class,  having  advanced 
farther  in  age  and  in  development. 

Our  sun  is  also  a  member  of  the  order  of  variable  stars,  for 
sometimes  he  gives  more  light  than  he  gives  at  others.  The 
spots  that  are  seen  from  time  to  time  on  his  surface  are  the  cause 
of  the  variability.  These  spots  have  regular  times  for  appear- 
ance and  disappearance.  The  period  is  known  as  the  sun-spot 
period,  its  extent  being  a  little  more  than  eleven  years. 

During  two  or  three  years,  the  spots  are  larger  and  more  nu- 
merous. They  then  begin  to  diminish,  reaching  the  minimum 
or  smallest  number  in  five  or  six  years,  after  which  there  are 
scarcely  any  spots.  Another  six  years  brings  the  return  of  the 
maximum,  or  largest  number  of  spots,  and  completes  the  circuit. 

The  sun  has  been  pitted  and  marred  with  spots  for  several 
years.  The  maximum,  according  to  calculation,  ought  to  have 
occurred  in  1882.  Such  was  not  the  case,  however,  and  astron- 
omers are  now  trying  to  find  out  the  cause  of  the  prolonged 
solar  activity,  and  are  still  more  eagerly  seeking  to  find  the  cause 
of  this  mysterious  periodicity. 

The  reason  of  their  increased  interest  is  because  the  sun-spots 
seem  to  be  intimately  connected  with  the  physical  condition  of 
the  earth.  It  is  known  that  at  their  maxima  auroral,  magnetic, 
and  electrical  disturbances  give  evidence  of  their  influence.  It 
is  thought — though  not  "proven" — that  the  earthquakes,  vol- 
canic eruptions,  cyclones,  and  tornadoes  that  have  devastated 
portions  of  this  planet  within  the  last  few  years  are  in  some 
way  associated  with  this  period  of  intense  solar  activity. 


714  SCIENTIFIC  INFORMATION. 

CQAI^ING   LlLtMBBI^   OUJP   OP   STI^AW. 

The  versatile  ingenuity  of  a  Western  inventoi%  who  doubtless- 
foresees  the  time  in  the  far-distant  future  when  the  forest  shall 
cease  to  clothe  the  hills  and  dales,  and  the  demand  for  lumber 
shall  prove  vastly  in  excess  of  the  supply,  has  succeeded  in  de- 
vising a  substitute  for  the  product  of  the  virgin  or  the  cultivated 
soil.  His  plan  is  to  use  the  fragile  vegetable,  straw,  and  by  a 
peculiar  process  to  compress  it  into  a  substance  as  hard  and  in- 
destructible as  oak  lumber.  It  is  claimed  that  this  process  con- 
verts wheat-straw  into  timber,  which  is  susceptible  of  as  fine  a 
polish  and  finish  as  mahogahy  and  black  walnut,  at  a  cost  not 
in  excess  of  the  best  clear  pine.  The  straw  is  first  manufact- 
ured by  the  ordinary  paper-mill  process  into  straw-board,  and 
a  suflficient  number  of  sheets  of  the  right  size  are  taken  to  make- 
the  required  timber.  They  are  soaked  and  softened  in  a  chem- 
ical solution,  which  is  of  course  the  inventor's  secret.  Aftei" 
the  fiber  of  the  pasteboard  is  suflRciently  saturated,  the  pile  of 
sheets  is  pressed  between  a  series  of  rollers,  which  consolidates 
them  so  that  when  dry  the  whole  is  a  hard  stick.  It  is  also- 
claimed  that  the  process  renders  this  wood  substitute  impervi- 
ous to  w^ater,  and  the  chemicals  used  are  such  as  to  make  it  fire- 
proof. But  the  sanguine  inventor  has  only  made  samples  thus 
far. 

Bui^sjuing  a  Gun. 

Those  old  enough  to  carry  a  loaded  gun  should  be  too  old  to- 
play  tricks  with  it.  They  ought  also  to  be  so  familiar  with  its 
use  as  to  know  that  a  slight  resistance  at  the  end  of  the  muzzle 
will  burst  it  when  fired.  The  following  illustrations  are  sug- 
gestive as  to  the  carelessness  which  arises  from  ignorance  or 
foolhardiness: 

In  bravado  a  young  man  placed  the  muzzle  of  his  fowling- 
piece  under  the  water,  and  fired  the  charge.  The  result  was 
the  bursting  of  the  barrel  near  the  breech  and  the  mutilation 
of  his  hand. 

Another  placed  and  held  the  muzzle  of  his  piece  against  a 
piece  of  plate  window-glass,  and  fired  the  charge — powder  and 
bullet.     The  glass  was  shattered,  so  was  the  gun-barrel. 

Another  instance  was  that  of  an  experimenter  who  had  heard 
that  a  candle  could  be  fired  from  the  barrel  of  a  gun  through 


A    WONDER  IN  GLASS.  715 

an  inch  board.  He  drove  a  candle  into  the  muzzle  of  the  gun, 
fired,  and  the  explosion  split  the  barrel  almost  its  entire  length, 
and  did  not  even  drive  the  candle  from  the  muzzle. 

Still  another  burst  of  a  gun-barrel  was  caused  by  the  use  of 
wet  grass  for  a  wad,  well  rammed  down  over  a  charge  of  shot. 

Finding  a  riBEDLs. 

A  needle  broken  short  off  in  the  flesh  is  troublesome  to  both 
surgeon  and  patient.  There  is  so  little  to  lay  hold  of  with  the 
forceps  that  any  touch  which  does  not  extract  it  is  bound  to 
give  it  an  onward  impulse.  As  it  often  happens  that  no  trace 
of  the  broken  needle  can  be  found,  because  the  patient  has 
pushed  it  completely  in  by  attempting  to  withdraw  it,  two  in- 
genious plans  have  been  devised  for  ascertaining  its  location, 
which  are  thus  described  by  a  writer  in  Chambers's  Journal: 

A  powerful  magnet  is  held  upon  that  part  of  the  body  for  a 
quarter  of  an  hour,  so  as  to  influence  the  fragment;  then  a 
finely-hung  polarized  needle  is  suspended  over  it,  when,  if  any 
iron  be  present,  deflection  will  ensue. 

In  Italy  a  kind  of  ivory  probe  traversed  by  two  wires  has 
been  used  for  the  detection  of  foreign  bodies  of  this  nature  in 
a  deep  wound,  it  being  connected  with  an  electric  battery  in 
such  a  way  that  directly  the  probe  comes  in  contact  with  any 
thing  metallic,  the  circuit  is  completed,  and  its  presence  an- 
nounced by  the  ringing  of  a  bell. 

5^  ?;t50NDBi^  IN  Glass. 

An  exhibition  of  glass-blowing  is  particularly  attractive. 
Nothing  can  be  more  exquisite  than  the  shining  threads  spun 
by  an  expert.  Among  the  curiosities  exhibited  many  years  ago 
in  Paris  was  a  lion  enveloped  in  the  coils  of  a  boa-constrictor. 
The  whole  is  nearly  the  size  of  life,  and  in  glass — glass  spun 
and  colored  with  such  rare  art  that  the  fur  of  the  lion's  skin 
looks  as  soft  and  feathery  as  if  the  monarch  of  the  forest  stood 
a  living  thing  before  you;  the  greensward  he  walks  on,  the 
flowers  which  garnish  the  borders  of  the  case,  are  all  glass,  and 
are  so  faithful  to  nature  that  you  almost  expect  to  inhale  the 
odor  of  the  beautiful  mignonette  and  moss-rose  that  fascinate 
the  eye. 


716  •         SCIENTIFIC  INFORMATION. 

fl   SUBSTITUTE    FOF^  A   LlAMP. 

The  following  can  be  used  in  dangerous  places: 
"  Take  an  oblong  phial  of  the  whitest  and  clearest  glass,  and 
put  into  it  a  piece  of  phosphorus  about  the  size  of  a  pea.  Pour 
some  olive  oil,  heated  to  the  boiling  point,  upon  the  phosphorus, 
filling  the  phial  about  one-third  full,  and  then  cork  it  tightly. 
To  use  the  novel  light,  remove  the  cork,  allow  the  air  to  enter 
the  phial,  and  then  recork  it.  This  empty  space  in  the  phial 
will  become  luminous,  and  the  light  obtained  is  equal  to  that  of 
a  lamp.  When  the  light  becomes  dim,  its  power  can  be  in- 
creased by  taking  out  the  cork  and  allowing  a  fresh  supply  of 
air  to  enter  the  phial." 

Splitting  FJogi^s! 

A  man  who  was  sitting  on  a  big  sandstone  near  a  new  build- 
ing, while  pounding  on  the  top  of  an  iron  rod  with  a  heavy 
hammer,  stopped  his  work  when  a  young  man  said  to  him, 
"What  are  you  doing  that  for.''" 

"  Drilling  a  hole,"  said  he.  There  were  other  holes  about  six 
inches  apart  in  a  line  along  the  middle  of  the  top  of  the  big 
stone. 

"What  are  all  these  holes  for?" 

"  I'll  show  you,"  said  the  workman,  as  he  pounded  away. 
When  the  hole  was  about  four  inches  deep  he  took  a  lot  of  half- 
round  pieces  of  iron  and  put  two  in  each  hole.  Then  a  thin  steel 
wedge  was  put  between  each  pair,  and  the  man  walked  along, 
hitting  each  wedge  a  moderate  blow  with  his  hammer.  The 
fourth  succession  of  blows  split  the  rock  almost  as  clean  and 
straight  as  if  it  had  been  sawed.     The  rock  was  three  feet  thick. 

"That  was  very  easily  done,"  said  the  young  man. 

"Yes;  but  you  w^ould  be  astonished,  I  think,  to  see  the  large 
masses  that  can  be  split  in  that  way.  I  was  in  a  down-East 
quarry  not  long  ago  where  they  were  getting  out  granite  slabs 
for  landings  in  the  stairways  of  a  big  Philadelphia  building. 
The  seams  in  the  rock  were  opened  with  'seam  blasts,'  just 
heavy  enough  to  loosen  without  disintegrating  the  mass.  Then 
steam -drills  drilled  several  holes,  say  three  or  four  feet  apart  and 
five  feet  deejD,  in  a  line  alpng  the  to{)  of  the  rock.  Between 
the  big  holes,  and  in  the  same  line,  the  small  holes  like  these 


NATURAL  APPETITE8.  717 

were  drilled.  When  the  wedges  in  the  little  holes  were  ham- 
mered into  the  big  slab  of  stone,  eighteen  by  twenty-seven  feet 
large,  it  was  split  off'  like  a  slice  of  bread  cut  from  a  loaf.  It  was 
just  the  right  thickness  fur  a  smouth  finish  bcluw  and  a  fine 
hammer  dressing  on  the  top," 

"What  were  the  deep  holes  for?" 

"To  insure  that  the  rock  split  down  straight.  I  have  never 
seen  a  rock  so  large  that  I  could  not  split  it  up  as  easily  as  I 
opened  this  one." 

RATUI^AL  flPPBiPITES. 

The  satisfying  of  hunger  and  thirst,  including  of  course  the 
pleasant  taste  of  articles  of  nourishment,  is  an  enjoyment,  and 
doubtless  it  was  meant  to  be  the  sufficient  enjoyhient  connected 
with  eating  and  drinking.  Men  are  more  unreasonable  and 
exacting  than  the  brutes,  and  have  insisted  on  heightening  the 
pleasure — for  a  little  while — by  adding  the  excitement  of  poi- 
son. Gluttons  and  drunkards  sacrifice  sense,  self-respect,  and 
even  taste,  for  the  sake  of  a  temporary  transport.  Every  youth 
who  thinks  will  welcome  the  following  helps  to  the  study  of 
himself  and  his  natural  appetites.  In  order  to  distinguish  a 
poison-stimulant  from  a  harmless  and  nutritive  substance,  Nat- 
ure has  thus  furnished  us  with  three  infallible  tests: 

1.  The  first  taste  of  every  poison  is  either  insipid  or  repulsive. 

2.  The  persistent  obtrusion  of  the  noxious  substance  changes 
that  aversion  into  a  specific  craving. 

3.  The  more  or  less  pleasurable  excitement  produced  by  a 
gratification  of  that  craving  is  always  followed  by  a  depressing 
reaction. 

The  first  drop  of  a  wholesome  beverage  (milk,  cold  water, 
cider  fresh  from  the  press,  etc.)  is  quite  as  pleasant  as  the  last; 
the  indulgence  in  such  pleasures  is  not  followed  by  repentance, 
and  never  begets  a  specific  craving. 

Pancakes  and  honey  we  may  eat  with  great  relish  whenever 
we  can  get  them,  but  if  we  can't,  we  shall  not  miss  them  as 
long  as  we  can  satisfy  our  hunger  with  bread  and  butter. 

In  mid-winter  Avhen  apples  advance  to  six  dollars  a  barrel,  it 
needs  no  lectures  and  midnight  prayers  to  substitute  rice-pud»- 
ding  for  apple-pie.     A  Turk  may  breakfast  for  thirty  ^ears  on 


718  SCIENTIFIC  INFORMATION. 

figs  and  roasted  chestnuts,  and  yet  be  quite  as  comfortable  in 
Switzerland,  where  they  treat  him  to  milk  and  bread. 

Not  so  the  dram-drinker;  his  "thirst"  cannot  be  assuaged 
with  water  or  milk,  his  enslaved  appetite  craves  the  wonted 
tipple — or  else  a  stronger  stimulant.  Natural  food  has  no  effect 
on  the  poison-hunger;  Nature  has  nothing  to  do  with  such  ap- 
petites. 

And  it  is  well  worth  knowing — before  experience  teaches 
the  bitter  lesson — that  strength  is  the  effect  of  gratifying  the 
natural  appetites  only,  and  weakness  the  effect  of  gratifying  the 
unnatural  ones.  No  competitor  in  an  athletic  contest  who 
drinks  alcoholic  liquors  can  hold  his  own  for  half  an  hour;  and 
even  tobacco  is  disallowed  there.  One  of  the  first  things  de- 
manded of  a  3-o]ing  man  who  is  going  into  training  for  a  boat- 
race  is,  "Don't  smoke." 

©HE  LlANGUAGE  OP  THE  FJED  INDIANS. 
One  singular  fact  is  the  infinite  diversity  of  language.  Not 
only  every  tribe,  but  every  band — of  which  there  are  sometimes 
fifty  in  a  single  tribe — has  its  own  dialect  or  jargon,  perfectly 
unintelligible  to  all  who  do  not  belong  to  the  band.  In  all  times 
the  Indians  have  disdained  to  learn  even  a  few  words  of  an  en- 
emy's language.  Stranger  yet,  the  Cheyennes  and  Arrapahoes 
for  three-quarters  of  a  century  have  been  firm  friends,  camping 
and  hunting  together  and  making  war  upon  the  same  enemies 
at  the  same  time.  The  children  constantly  romp  and  play  to- 
gether in  the  common  camp.  Yet  not  one  in  ten  of  either  tribe 
can  hold  the  most  ordinary  conversation  in  the  language  of  the 
other.  Unable  to  speak  each  other's  language,  the  Indians  of 
the  West  have  constructed  a  wonderful  sign-language  by  which 
they  hold  intercourse.  Gestures,  signs,  are  more  or  less  natural 
to  every  one.  Among  the  plains  Indians  alone  have  they 
reached  their  most  wonderful  development.  So  complicated 
and  elaborate  is  the  sign-language,  consisting  of  countless  gest- 
ures and  movements,  the  slightest  variation  in  which  marks 
wide  differences  in  the  meaning,  that  only  a  few  Indians  in  a 
tribe  are  complete  masters  of  it,  and  the  masses  can  only  use  it 
slightly.  The  signs  do  not  indicate  letters  nor  words,  as  with 
the  deaf  and  dumb,  but  ideas.  There  is  one  sign  to  indicate 
hunger,  another  for  "  stop  talking,"  another  for  summer,  and  so 


THE  ALPHABET.  719 

on  indefinitely.  Yet  an  expert  sign-talker  will  either  make  or  in- 
terpret a  long  speech,  which  consists  of  an  infinite  number  of 
signs,  following  each  other  with  lightning-like  rapidity.  Two 
strange  Indians  will  meet  on  horseback,  each  unable  to  under- 
stand a  spoken  word  of  the  other,  and  while  holding  the  reins 
with  the  left  hand,  will  converse  for  hours  with  their  right, 
telling  stories  or  relating  their  experiences,  without  a  single 
misunderstanding. 

©HE  fiLPHABET. 

It  is  an  interesting  fact  that  the  oldest  known  "A  B  C"  in 
existence  is  a  child's  alphabet  scratched  on  a  little  ink-bottle 
of  black-ware  found  in  one  of  the  Greek  settlements  in  Italy, 
attributed  to  the  fifth  century  B.C.  The  earliest  letters  and 
many  later  ones  are  known  only  by  inscriptions,  and  it  is  the 
rapid  increase  by  recent  discoveries  of  these  precious  fragments 
that  has  inspired  more  diligent  research  and  quickened  the  zeal 
of  learned  students  in  mastering  the  elements  of  knowledge  of 
their  origin  and  history  throughout  the  world.  As  late  as  1S76 
there  were  found  in  Cyprus  some  bronze  plates  inscribed  with 
Phenician  characters,  dating  back  to  the  tenth,  even  to  the 
eleventh  century  B.C.  Each  epoch  has  its  fragments,  and  the 
industry  of  English  explorers,  the  perseverance  of  German  stu- 
dents, and  the  genius  of  French  scholars,  have  all  contributed 
to  group  them  in,  their  chronological  order.  Coins,  engraved 
gems,  inscribed  statues,  and,  last  of  all,  the  Siloam  inscription 
found  in  1880  at  Jerusalem  on  the  wall  of  an  old  tunnel, 
have  supplied  new  material  for  history.  From  the  common 
mother  of  many  alphabets,  the  Phenician,  are  descended  the 
Greek  and  other  European  systems  on  the  one  side,  including 
that  which  we  use  and  have  the  greatest  interest  in;  and  on  the 
other  the  alphabets  of  Asia,  from  which  have  sprung  those 
of  the  East — Syriac,  Arabic,  and  Hebrew. 

A  couple  of  pieces  of  cork  cut  from  a  cork-tree  growing  near 
Albany  have  been  sent  to  the  Morning  News  by  Mr.  M.  Towns, 
as  an  evidence  of  the  fact  that  the  famous  cork-oak  will  grow 
in  Georgia  soil.  The  tree  is  the  growth  of  seed  sent  from  the 
Agricultural  Department  at  Washington,  and  planted  twenty 
years  ago. 


720  SCIENTIFIC  INFORMATION. 

0)BASUI^ING   THE   f^EIGHiP  OP   A  Sl^BB. 

There  is  a  very  simple  way  of  measuring  the  height  of  a  tree 
which  can  be  practiced  by  any  one  on  a  sunny  day  or  in  bright 
moonhght.  All  the  apparatus  that  is  necessary  is  a  straight 
stick  of  any  length.  Draw  a  circle  with  a  radius  (half  the  di- 
ameter) of  a  little  less  than  the  length  of  the  stick.  This  will 
be  done  by  holding  one  end  of  the  stick,  say  two  inches  from 
its  end,  and  moving  the  other  end  ai'ound,  making  the  circuit 
with  a  knife  or  a  chip.  Then  place  the  stick  iti  the  ground  ex- 
actly in  the  center  of  the  circle,  perfectly  upright,  and  press  it 
down  until  the  height  of  the  stick  is  exactly  the  same  as  the  ra- 
dius of  the  circle. 

When  the  end  of  the  shadow  of  the  stick  exactly  touches  the 
circle,  then  also  the  shadow  of  the  tree  v^^ill  be  exactly  in  length 
the  same  measurement  as  its  height.  Of  course  in  such  a  case 
the  sun  will  be  at  an  exact  angle  of  45°. 

Measurements  of  this  character  can  be  best  effected  in  the 
summer,  when  the  sun  is  powerful  and  has  reached  to  a  good 
height  in  the  heavens,  and  when  the  trees  are  clothed  with  liv- 
ing green  so  as  to  cast  a  dense  shadow. 

To  many  to  whom  this  idea  may  not  have  occurred  it  might 
be  made  annually  a  matter  of  interest  thus  on  warm  summer 
days  to  take  the  height  of  prominent  trees,  and  so  to  compare 

growth  from  year  to  year. 

4^ 

The  river  Congo  is  the  most  magnificent  water-way  in  Afri- 
ca, draining  a  water-shed  of  86o,ocx)  square  miles,  and  opening^ 
a  highway  for  European  commerce  to  the  whole  of  the  equato- 
rial region.  The  imports  of  English  manufactures  are  said  to 
amount  to  £600,000  per  annum.  Two  British  steamship  com- 
panies call  regularly  at  the  mouth  of  the  river,  and  the  gross 
exports  and  imports  are  stated  to  amount  to  J?2,C)00,ooo  per  an- 
num. Mr.  Stanley  declared  that  whatever  power  could  possess 
itself  of  the  river  would  absorb  to  itself  the  trade  of  the  whole 
of  the  enormous  basin  behind. 

An  English  architect  asserts  that  houses  can  be  made  of  tim- 
ber which  will  last  longer  than  brick  or  stone.  In  many  English 
towns  houses  of  oak  and  plaster  are  standing  and  in  daily  use 
that  were  built  500  years  ago. 


RAVEL  ^NDaDVEHTURE. 

yOUTHPUL  flSPII^ATIONS. 


BY  W.  W.  BREESE. 


VERY  wide-awake  boy  has  dreams  of  a 
future  life  of  travel  and  adventure.  He 
grows  sick  of  his  surroundings,  and  longs 
for  the  time  to  come  when  he  may  throw 
off  the  restraints  of  home  and  go  out  to  test  for  him- 
self the  realities  of  life.  His  imagination  pictures 
his  pleasures  with  the  most  roseate  hue,  and  he  can- 
not be  persuaded  that  all  is  not  gold  which  glitters  to 
his  mind's  eye.  In  common  terms,  he  knows  more 
at  this  age  than  he  ever  will  know  at  any  future  age, 
and  considers  that  he  is  not  properly  understood  or 
appreciated  because  others  do  not  give  him  full  credit 
for  being  a  second  Solomon. 

The  theory  of  many  people  is  that  an  awakening 
to  life's  realities  will  come  full  soon;  hence  we  should 
humor  the  youthful  idiosyncrasies  to  their  full  extent, 
as  that  contributes  to  happiness  at  that  age  to  a  great 
degree.  Others,  taking  the  maxim  "  As  the  twig  is 
bent  the  tree's  inclined"  for  their  motto,  seek  to 
extirpate  and  eradicate  these  abnormal  ideas  as  a 
gardener  would  pluck  the  weeds  out  of  his  garden. 
46  (721) 


722  TRAVEL  AND  AJDVENTUIIE. 

It  was  this  latter  idea,  carried  to  an  extreme,  which 
made  the  old  Puritan  so  austere  and  unyielding  in  his 
family  government.  But  the  majority  of  the  people 
of  this  day  acknowledge  the  lack  of  wisdom  in  such  a 
course  as  this,  and  urge  a  more  liberal  plan  for  the 
training  of  youth  and  the  moderate  encouragement  of 
youthful  aspirations,  as  being  in  entire  consonance 
with  future  success  and  happiness  in  mature  life. 

The  desire  to  travel  about  over  the  earth's  surface, 
to  see  the  many  wonders  of  art  and  nature,  to  add, 
if  possible,  to  the  store  of  human  knowledge,  is  quite 
laudable  in  itself,  and  worthy  of  praise  and  encourage- 
ment. But  the  desire  to  perform  the  duties  of  Hfe, 
whatever  their  nature  may  be,  is  of  greater  impor- 
tance, and  should  be  inculcated  and  impressed  upon 
the 'youthful  mind,  to  the  exclusion,  if  need  be,  of 
other  matters.  The  child,  therefore,  should  be  trained 
to  hold  in  check  the  desire  for  selfish  gratification  of 
even  a  legitimate  pleasure,  unless  its  indulgence  is 
compatible  with  the  higher  performance  of  duties  to 
kindred  and  to  mankind. 

But  there  is  a  kind  of  mental  training  in  this  day 
that  is  pernicious  and  abominable  in  the  extreme,  and 
which  acts  upon  the  natural  germ  in  the  youthful 
mind  as  the  artificial  heat  of  a  hotbed,  and  produces 
a  monstrous  and  abnormal  growth,  with  which  noth- 
ing in  nature  can  compare.  We  refer  to  the  reading 
of  exciting  novels,  detailing  the  blood-curdling  tales 
of  adventure  on  the  part  of  impossible  heroes,  who 
destroy  human  beings  with  the  same  freedom  that  a 
bird  picks  up  worms,  or  an  angler  catches  fish.  Our 
country  is  flooded,  and  has  been  for  the  past  thirty 
years  at  least,  with  this  class  of  literature,  principally 


YOUTHFUL  ASPIRATIONS.  723 

in  periodicals  of  the  Boys^  and  GirU^  Weekly  nature, 
which  are  filled  with  tales  of  boys  and  girls  who  ran 
away  from  home  at  an  early  age,  or  were  kindly  kid- 
napped by  some  humanitarian,  who  took  them  to 
realms  of  pleasure  and  unending  fun.  These  tales 
formerly  consisted  almost  exclusively  of  recitals  of 
hunting  and  trapping  adventures  in  the  far  West,  with 
the  slaughter  of  innumerable  hordes  of  Indians.  At 
a  later  date  they  were  connected  with  the  scenes  en- 
acted in  the  civil  war,  and  boys  became  scouts  and 
girls  became  spies  and  nurses.  At  the  present  time 
these  thrilling  tales  detail  the  adventures  of  The  Boy 
Detective,  and  deal  with  robbers,  and  house-breakers, 
and  gamblers  of  the  lowest  class  and  deepest  dye. 

The  reading  of  this  trash — this  is  a  mild  term — is 
ruining  hundreds  and  thousands  of  the  youth  of  our 
land,  who  would  grow  up  to  useful  lives  of  honor  and 
happiness  but  for  this  deadly  scourge.  The  question 
of  how  to  remedy  the  evil  could  be  easily  answered 
if  we  could  only  stop  the  source  of  supply.  But  alas! 
with  our  exalted  ideas  of  freedom,  we  claim  that 
alongside  of  the  privilege  to  believe  as  we  please 
should  also  come  the  privilege  to  act  as  we  please, 
and  hence  the  manufacture  and  sale  of  poisonous 
literature,  as  of  poisonous  drinks,  must  proceed  until 
the  world  is  educated  up  to  the  point  of  starving  out 
the  manufacturer.  This  may  look  like  poor  common- 
sense,  but  it  is  nevertheless  a  practical  fact,  which  we 
practice  to  its  full  extent. 

The  practical  question  is,  How  can  we  counteract 
this  pernicious,  execrable  condition  of  affairs  to  the 
best  advantage?  These  youthful  desires  for  advent- 
urous travel   are  inherent  in   human   nature,  and  if 


724  TRAVEL  AND  ADVENTURE. 

properly  guided  and  educated  are  of  great  use  in  the 
production  of  a  beneficent  and  successful  mature  life; 
but  if  repressed,  or  extinguished,  the  result  may  be 
disastrous  in  the  lack  of  ambitious  motives  and  stim- 
ulus to  honorable  achievement.  The  dull  and  emo- 
tionless boy,  who  exhibits  no  excitement  or  interest 
over  the  narration  of  a  tale  of  adventure,  v^ill  make  a 
man  of  sullen,  unsympathetic  character,  if  he  is  not 
positively  cruel  and  vicious.  The  one  extreme  is  al- 
most as  much  to  be  deplored  as  the  other. 

The  opportunities  for  procuring  this  trashy  litera- 
ture are  unlimited,  for  the  wide-awake  boy  or  girl 
easily  procures  the  small  sums  of  money  necessary  for 
its  purchase;  besides,  it  is  passed  from  hand  to  hand, 
and  every  school  in  our  land  is  flooded  with  it,  to  the 
detriment  of  scholarly  attainments  and  class  standing. 
Your  child's  home  may  not  have  a  supply  of  litera- 
ture, either  good  or  bad,  but  that  does  not  signify  that 
he  will  not  suffer  from  the  evil  of  which  we  speak. 
He  gets  it  elsewhere,  and  a  thorough  search  on  the 
parents'  part  often  reveals,  in  many  a  household,  an 
astonishing  state  of  affairs  in  this  matter.  Hence  it 
is  of  little  avail  to  try  to  correct  the  evil  by  withhold- 
ing all  means  of  gratification  of  the  desire  to  read 
tales  of  travel  and  adventure.  You  must,  rather, 
counteract  evil  influences  by  good  influences,  and  sup- 
ply books  of  such  a  harmless  and  instructive  charac- 
ter that  there  will  be  an  enticement  away  from  the 
other  kind,  leaving  no  time  nor  room  for  the  gratifica- 
tion nor  the  formation  of  a  vicious  taste.  And  you 
must  begin  this  work  in  good  season.  Neglect  it  un- 
til your  child's  taste  has  been  perverted,  and  you  will 
find  it  an  almost  hopeless  task  to  try  to  correct  the  evil. 


YO UTHFUL  ASPIRA  TI0N8.  725 

The  formation  of  a  love  for  "blood-and-thundcr" 
novels  is  very  much  like  the  formation  of  a  love  for 
intoxicating  liquors  on  the  part  of  most  young  peo- 
ple. Many  a  poor  drunkard  has  said  that  at  the  first 
alcoholic  drinks  w^ere  offensive  to  him,  and  he  only 
drank  because  he  was  coaxed  into  it,  or  because  he 
liked  the  sugar  with  which  it  was  mixed;  so,  many  a 
lad  who  is  destroyed  by  bad  reading  at  the  last  at 
first  had  no  taste  or  desire  for  such  matter.  But  he 
was  coaxed  into  it  by  others,  and  he  had  nothing  bet- 
ter"to  do;  so  he  managed  to  drag  through  an  improb- 
able and  uninteresting  tale,  finding,  before  he  finished 
it,  that  his  sympathies  had  been  enlisted  and  his  en- 
thusiasm aroused,  unconsciously  at  first;  but  he  is 
more  ready  to  begin  the  next  one  than  he  was  the 
first.  After  he  has  read  a  few  such  books  he  yields 
his  full  consent,  and  begins  to  revel  in  their  picture- 
stories  and  intense  descriptions.  His  sympathies  go 
out  for  the  hero  in  all  his  complicated  troubles,  and 
his  heart  quickens  in  its  beatings,  and  his  conscious- 
ness of  earthly  things  leaves  him  as  he  follows  to  the 
climax;  his  appetite  weakens,  his  memory  deserts  him, 
his  duties  are  neglected,  and  his  life  becomes  a  bur- 
den. He  longs  to  be  a  hero,  and  take  part  in  the 
scenes  which  have  been  so  vividly  portrayed  to  his 
mind's  eye  by  the  author.  He  begins  to  hate  his  sur- 
roundings and  the  circumstances  of  life  which  have 
bound  him  down  to  a  hum-drum  existence;  a  step 
further,  and  he  hates  his  parents  and  teachers,  who 
insist  on  his  performing  his  daily  allotted  tasks,  and 
finally  resolves  to  be  free  and  independent  of  all  these 
evils;  and  stifling  the  voice  of  conscience  at  the  dicta- 
tion of  his  overruling  passion  of  adventure,  he  leaves 


726  TRAVEL  AND  ADVENTURE. 

his  home,  a  veritable  Don  Quixote,  performing  about 
as  many  senseless  antics  and  reaching  about  as  unsat- 
isfactory and  degrading  a  termination  of  his  career. 

This  is  a  mild  picture.  If  your  child  has  begun  to 
drink  at  this  intoxicating  source  of  knowledge,  he  will 
be  fortunate  and  you  will  be  spared  great  dishonor  if 
the  matter  ends  simply  by  his  life-failure  alone.  In 
too  many  cases — I  had  almost  said  the  majority  of 
cases — the  result  is  far  more  serious.  Excited  by  the 
stories  of  robbers,  pirates,  detectives,  and  gamblers, 
he  loses  sight  entirely  of  the  thread  of  morality  on 
the  part  of  the  hero,  and  feels  as  strong  an  emulation 
for  the  desperado  as  for  the  hero.  He  revels  in  the 
evil  deeds  of  the  one,  and  passes  by  the  morality  of 
the  other.  He  feels  no  compunction  at  a  life  of  crime, 
and  imagines  himself  so  wise  as  to  avoid  detection. 
The  natural  result  of  all  this  will  be  the  penitentiary 
or  the  gallows. 

We  may  seem  harsh,  and  almost  cruel,  when  we 
say  that  not  a  boy  in  America  who  has  gone  out  from 
a  pleasant  or  at  least  a  comfortable  home  to  a  life  of 
crime,  caused  by  the  reading  of  vicious  literature  and 
bad  companions,  but  has  his  parents  to  thank  for  such 
a  result.  But  we  have  yet  to  see,  in  all  our  travels,  a 
single  instance  in  which  a  boy  or  a  girl,  reared  up  in 
a  pleasant,  attractive  home,  where  attractive  story- 
books of  a  better  class  were  constantly  accessible, 
and  pleasant  people  at  hand  to  lend  their  influence 
-with  entertaining  conversation — we  have  yet  to  see 
a  boy  or  girl  become  vicious  and  intemperate  as  a  man 
or  woman.  While  it  is  true  that  the  children  of  many 
pious  people  become  wicked,  and  lead  evil  lives,  yet 
the  home  atmosphere  has  in  no  case  been  pure,  and 


YOUTHFUL  ASPIRATIONS.  727 

home  influence  in  every  case  has  been  defective.  It 
has  been  the  result  of  neglect  and  lack  of  proper  at- 
tention. 

But  you  may  excuse  yourself  by  pleading  poverty. 
We  assert  that  in  the  great  day  of  judgment  this  ex- 
cuse will  not  hold  good.  Pure,  attractive  literature 
is  almost  as  cheap  as  the  trashy  and  vicious  stuff  that 
permeates  throughout  the  length  and  breadth  of  our 
land;  it  would  be  quite  as  cheap,  or  even  cheaper,  if 
Christian  people  would  perform  their  duty  and  patron- 
ize it.  Alas!  too  many  professing  Christian  parents 
buy  worthless  reading  for  their  children,  even  at  the 
same  price,  who  ought  to  be  helping,  instead,  to  make 
cheap  literature  and  pure  literature  one  and  the  same 
thing.  There  is  not  a  family  in  America,  who  are  in- 
dependent and  able  to  live  aside  from  public  charity,  but 
can  aiford  necessary  reading-matter.  Less  than  four 
cents  a  week  will  buy  the  leading  literary  periodical  of 
this  land — one  that  is  filled  with  the  purest  and  most 
ennobhng  sentiments,  with  stories  of  adventure  for 
the  children  and  editorials  of  the  wisest  counsels  for 
the  parent  and  older  members  of  the  family.  Surely 
there  is  not  a  family  so  poverty-stricken  that  double 
this  sum  is  not  expended  for  useless  knickknacks, 
while  there  are  thousands  and  hundreds  of  thousands 
of  parents  who  spend  large  sums  of  money  upon  food 
of  an  expensive  character,  where  plainer  articles  of 
diet  would  be  healthier,  or  buy  articles  of  household 
furniture,  or  of  clothing,  not  in  the  least  necessary  to 
their  comfort  and  convenience,  but  purely  for  display, 
who  yet  think  themselves  too  poor  to  provide  attract- 
ive and  harmless  literature  for  their  children.  Are 
you  one  of  that  number,  O  reader? 


728  TRAVEL  AND  ADVENTURE. 

The  newspapers  of  our  land  are  constantly  record- 
ing cases  of  crime,  resulting  from  the  influence  of 
bad  literature;  many  well-meaning  but  misguided  and 
neglectful  fathers  and  mothers  are  each  year  being 
brought  down  in  their  gray  hairs  to  their  graves,  dis- 
honored by  such  sons  and  daughters,  and  yet  the  tide 
flows  on,  increasing,  broadening,  deepening,  and  fed 
by  other  careless,  reckless  parents,  who  will  see,  when 
too  late,  the  folly  of  their  course.  They  save  and 
economize,  they  stint  their  bodies  and  their  souls,  to 
gather  money  and  property  for  the  children  whose  in- 
tellectual needs  they  are  most  cruelly  neglecting. 
And  of  what  avail,  think-  you,  will  money  be  when 
the  mind  is  perverted,  honor  disregarded,  and  true 
principles  destroyed?  Will  you  feel  that  you  have 
done  all  your  duty,  even  if  you  have  preached  the 
gospel  to  the  heathen,  and  yet  left  your  own  children 
to  perish? 

These  youthful  longings  for  pleasure  and  exciting 
adventure  are  but  the  faint  beginnings  of  that  exalted 
state  of  mind  in  which  Paul  was  led  to  exclaim,  "I 
long  to  depart!"  He  saw,  in  his  imagination,  the 
glories  of  that  unknown  world,  and  longed  for  the 
adventures  and  pleasures  in  store  for  him. 

Thus  it  is  with  all  mature  Christians.  We  change 
our  longings  for  earthly  travel  and  adventure,  and  we 
long  for  the  time  when  we  may  test  the  realities  of 
heaven  and  share  in  the  pleasures  of  that  wonderful 
land.  We  imagine  the  pleasures  in  store  for  us  when 
we  may  visit  from  star  to  star  and  from  realm  to 
realm.  Even  the  greatest  earthly  traveler,  who  has 
gone  round  the.  world,  from  continent  to  continent, 
and  beheld  the  choicest  works  of  art,  or  examined 


YOUTHFUL  ASPIRATIONS.  729 

into  the  greatest  curiosities  of  nature,  has  seen  but 
Httle — a  mere  glance — when  compared  with  the  vis- 
ions of  eternity. 

We  shall  there  behold  other  animate  beings  of  a 
more  wonderful  organization  and  in  greater  variety 
than  have  ever  been  described  by  the  most  learned 
naturalist  that  has  ever  lived  upon  this  earth.  The 
variety  of  form  is  far  from  being  exhausted  in  animate 
nature,  even  on  the  earth,  for  the  geologist  is  con- 
stantly discovering  new  forms  of  extinct  animals,  and 
we  may  readily  believe  that  there  could  be  many 
more  yet  to  discover. 

What,  then,  may  await  us  in  other  worlds  and 
planets — in  realms  created  upon  a  different  basis  from 
our  own!  The  pleasure  of  that  region  no  mortal 
tongue  can  describe,  no  mortal  mind  contain.  Imag- 
ination fails  to  paint  the  picture  with  the  glowing 
colors  of  reality,  and  only  those  who  enjoy  the  antic- 
ipated glory  can  conceive  any  idea  of  the  truth. 

Scientific  men  tell  us  that  it  is  impossible  that 
created  beings  could  exist  upon  the  surface  of  the 
moon,  because  that  globe  is  destitute  of  oxygen,  the 
vitalizing  principle  of  animal  life  upon  this  globe. 
But  the  same  Power  which  made  animate  life  on  this 
earth  to  depend  on  oxygen  can  create  an  element  to 
take  the  place  of  oxygen  in  the  moon,  and  create  ani- 
mate beings  on  such  a  model  as  to  need  no  oxygen. 

Indeed,  the  truth  of  this  fact,  and  the  probability 
of  its  application,  must  be  very  apparent 'to  all  who 
believe  in  Christ  and  in  his  resurrection  from  the 
dead.  He  possessed  a  body  not  subject  to  the  laws 
of  natufe  as  established  upon  earth.  He  proclaimed" 
that  he  had  a  body  in  reality,  and  demanded  personal 


T30  TRAVEL  AND  ADVENTURE. 

investigation  on  the  part  of  his  followers,  and  yet  that 
body,  which  could  eat  food,  and  did  eat  upon  numer- 
ous occasions,  could  be  so  transformed  as  not  to  be 
recognized  by  his  most  intimate  friends,  and  also  to 
disappear  from  their  presence  in  the  most  sudden  and 
unaccountable  manner.  We  are  also  told  that  our 
bodies,  when  we  shall  be  raised  up  from  the  dead, 
shall  be  of  like  character  and  fashion.  The  world, 
also,  is  to  be  burned  up,  and  no  doubt  with  it  will  be 
consumed  all  the  oxygen  we  now  possess,  and  in  our 
new  form  we  shall  experience  no  trouble  in  existing 
very  comfortably  without  it.  Not  only  shall  we  exist 
on  the  new  earth,  but  we  shall  also  be  privileged  to 
visit  other  worlds  and  engage  in  other  scenes,  beside 
v^hich  the  most  startling  and  fascinating  adventures 
of  earth  fade  away  and  become  tame  and  uninter- 
esting. 

She  LximTLB  Old  CQan  in  the  Foi^est. 

The  Christmas  story  I  am  about  to  tell  is  well  known  to  Ger- 
man children,  all  of  wjiom  go  tripping  through  fairyland  in  the 
golden  days  of  childhood.  It  was  written  by  a  good  German 
baron,  Friedrich  de  la  Motte-Fouque,  who  wrote  the  beautiful 
fairy-story  "Undine,"  about  which  all  our  readers  have  heard. 
It  does  not  appear,  however,  in  the  popular  translations  of  the 
works  of  the  delightful  old  baron.  It  is  quite  a  romance  in  the 
original,  but  I  have  reduced  it  to  a  very  brief  and  simple  story. 
The  nobleman  who  wrote  it,  and  who  loves  good  people  and 
children  almost  as  much  as  Hans  Christian  Andersen  loved 
them,  declares  that  this  is  a  story  that  ought  to  be  told.  He 
does  not  say  why;  he  leaves  his  readers,  young  and  old,  to  guess 
that  by  their  own  firesides.  So,  you  see,  the  story  is  something 
of  a  riddle — one  must  live  in  a  particular  way  to  find  out. 

Berthold  was  a  German  merchant.  He  traveled  much  from 
city  to  city.  In  Germany  there  are  long,  dark  forests,  through 
which  he  often  journeyed.     The  defiles  in  these  forests,  and 


THE  LITTLE  OLD  MAN  IN  THE  FOREST.      731 

especially  those  in  the  Hartz  Mountains,  are  very  narrow  and 
perilous.  The  rocks  are  weird,  and  to  the  superstitious  8ccn\ 
ghostly.  At  some  points  the  shadows  of  men  and  animals  are 
map^nificd  at  sunset  and  sunrise  by  the  atmosphere,  and  they 
appear  like  great  figures  in  the  air;  and  this  and  other  natural 
phenomena  have  given  rise  to  fearful  stories  of  specters,  which 
the  simple-hearted  foresters  believe. 

One  evening  Berthold  became  bewildered  in  one  of  these 
forests.  He  was  riding  on  horseback;  and,  just  as  the  fair  sun- 
set was  flaming  over  the  tall  tops  of  the  trees  above  him,  he 
was  startled  to  find  he  had  ridden  out  of  his  way.  He  carried 
great  treasure  in  his  saddle-bags — jewels,  ready  money,  and  bills 
of  exchange.     In  the  recesses  of  the  forests  there  were  robbersc 

As  he  was  proceeding  along  a  long  defile,  after  night-fall,  he 
espied  a  man  walking  in  the  foot-path  before  him.  He  called 
to  him,  saying,  "  Who  are  you?" 

"  I  am  a  collier.  I  live  with  my  family  apart  from  the  world 
in  this  forest." 

"Can  you  give  a  stranger  who  has  lost  his  way  a  night's 
lodging?" 

"  I  have  no  right  to  refuse  hospitality  to  a  stranger.  In  God's 
name  you  ai"e  welcome." 

Berthold  followed  the  man  till  they  came  to  a  little  cottage. 
The  good  wife  met  them  at  the  door  with  a  lamp,  and  a  happy 
family  of  children  greeted  the  collier's  return. 

The  evening  passed  pleasantly.  The  merchant  told  stories 
of  his  journeys,  and  soon  felt  at  home  among  the  children  gath- 
ered lovingly  around  him. 

At  last  it  was  proposed  that  they  should  sing.  The  sweet 
voices  of  the  children  were  just  joining  in  a  merry  roundelay 
when  a  sudden  and  loud  knocking  was  heard  at  the  door.  The 
children  stopped  singing,  and  the  collier  said,  firmly,  "  In  the 
name  of  God,  come  in!" 

Upon  this  the  door  slowly  opened,  and  a  little  old  man,  of 
gentle  appearance  and  manners,  came  stealing  in,  greeting  the 
family  courteously,  and  taking  the  lowest  place  at  the  table. 
His  o-arments  were  of  some  ancient  pattern.  He  seemed  wan 
and  woe-begone,  as  though  reduced  by  disease.  Berthold  gazed 
at  him  with  a  feeling  of  great  curiosity  and  surprise,  but  said 
nothincr.     He  once  met  the  little  old  man's  eye;  there  was  some- 


732  TRAVEL  AND  ADVENTURE. 

thing  in  it  so  deeply  mysterious  that  lie  felt  a  chill  creeping  over 
him,  and  he  began  to  be  restless  and  ill  at  ease. 

At  last  the  little  old  man  folded  his  hands,  and  turning  to  the 
collier,  said,  "  It  is  the  hour  of  prayer." 

The  collier  at  once  began  to  sing  "  Now  all  the  woods  are 
sleeping,"  in  which  the  whole  family  joined,  filling  the  house 
with  such  delightful  music  that  the  merchant  listened  like  one 
enchanted.  Presently  a  voice  rose  above  the  rest.  It  startled 
Berthold,  and  made  the  cottage  tremble.  It  was  the  little  old 
man's.  The  family  knelt  down,  and  the  collier  prayed.  Then 
they  all  rose  up  with  loving  words,  and  the  little  old  man  glided 
out  of  the  door,  bowing  as  humbly  as  when  he  came  in. 

But  presently  the  door  opened  again,  and  the  little  old  man 
once  more  appeared.  He  threw  a  look  of  fearful  wildness  upon 
Berthold,  then  disappeared,  the  door  closing  after  him  with 
violence. 

"  He  is  a  little  touched  in  mind,"  said  the  merchant,  nervously. 

"  He  is  perfectly  harmless,"  said  the  collier.  "  I  have  not 
seen  any  evil  in  him  for  a  long  time.  But,"  he  added,  "the 
only  chamber  I  can  give  you  for  the  night  has  a  door  that  does 
not  shut  very  tightly;  he  comes  into  it  in  the  night,  but  do  not 
fear  him;  if  you  do  not  think  any  evil  thought,  nor  do  any  evil 
act,  he  will  go  out  of  his  own  accord." 

Berthold's  heart  was  now  far  from  tranquil.  He  pressed  his 
portmanteau  of  treasures  close  to  his  side  as  the  collier  lighted 
him  up  the  narrow  stairway  to  his  room. 

He  lay  down,  placing  his  portmanteau  and  weapons  beside 
him  on  the  bed;  but  he  could  not  sleep.  He  remembered  what 
the  collier  had  said  about  the  little  old  man,  that  the  safeguard 
against  him  was  the  absence  of -all  evil  thoughts  and  acts.  In 
this  respect  the  collier's  family  seemed  secure,  but  the  merchant 
knew  how  great  was  his  own  greed  for  gain — how  it  made  him 
hard  and  uncharitable — and  he  tried  to  put  away  all  evil  thoughts 
and  to  think  of  the  hymn,  "  Now  all  the  woods  are  sleeping," 
lest  the  little  old  man  should  appear. 

A  little  past  midnight  he  fell  into  a  troubled  sleep,  and  his 
mind  began  to  wander  over  his  schemes  for  gain.  He  was 
dreaming  of  the  good  bargain  he  had  made,  or  expected  to 
make,  when  he  was  startled  by  a  noise  close  by.  He  raised 
himself  in  bed  and  saw  the  little  old  man  in  the  moonlisfht  mov- 


THE  LITTLE  OLD  MAN  IN  THE  FOREST      733 

ing  about  the  room.  The  merchant  at  first  looked  upon  him 
with  a  feehng  of  curiosity  rather  than  alarm  or  anger,  and  while 
he  did  so  all  was  well.  But  he  at  last  became  irritable  under 
the  disturlumce,  and  when  the  little  old  man  at  last  approached 
the  bed  Berthold's  irritability  kindled  into  anger,  and  wicked 
thouj^hts  began  to  fill  his  mind,  and  he  found  it  hard  to  restrain 
his  lips  from  evil  words. 

At  last  the  little  old  man  touched  the  portmanteau  containing 
the  merchant's  treasures.  This  was  too  much.  The  merchant's 
caution  forsook  him,  and  he  was  filled  with  rage. 

"Back,  you  vile  robber!  back  from  my  baggage!"  he  ex- 
claimed, seizing  his  pistols. 

The  little  old  man  started  back  as  in  terror.  He  seemed  to 
be  in  an  agony  of  prayer.  A  change  came  over  his  face.  He 
appeared  conscious  of  it,  and  going  toward  the  door  disap- 
peared. 

Berthold  gazed  after  him,  and  then  remembered  the  collier's 
admonition  in  regard  to  the  danger  of  evil  thoughts.  He 
wished  that  he*  had  acted  differently,  for  he  would  bring  no  evil* 
on  the  family. 

There  was  a  sound  at  the  latch.  The  door  opened,  when  an 
evil-looking  giant  wearing  a  red  mantle  appeared.  He  laughed 
wildly  and  said:  "I  begin  to  be  free  again.  You  have  made 
me  grow." 

Berthold  saw  that  the  giant  was  none  other  than  the  little  old 
man.  The  merchant  leaped  from  his  bed  and  discharged  his 
pistol.  The  giant  vanished,  growing  taller  and  more  fearful  as 
he  disappeared. 

In  a  moment  the  collier  hurried  up  the  stairs. 

*'In  the  name  of  God,"  said  he,  rushing  into  the  room,  "what 
have  you  been  doing  to  our  house-spirit?" 

"House-spirit?"  said  Berthold,  like  one  in  a  dream.  "What 
do  you  mean?" 

"He  has  just  gone  out  of  the  house,"  said  the  collier,  "per- 
fectly monstrous  in  his  size,  and  inflamed  with  fury." 

But  the  collier  saw  that  the  merchant  did  not  understand  him, 
and  he  entreated  him  to  go  down  into  the  common  apartment 
where  all  the  family,  aroused  by  the  report  of  the  pistol,  had 
now  met.  The  children  shrunk  away  from  him  as  he  entered 
the  room,  and  the  collier's  wife  was  in  tears. 


734  TRAVEL  AND  ADVENTURE. 

"And  now,  said  the  good  woman,  "  we  must  live  all  those 
years  over  again." 

"This  may  all  seem  strange  to  you,"  said  the  collier  to  the 
merchant,  "but  when  my  wife  and  I  first  came  to-the  cottage 
to  live  we  found  it  haunted  by  a  terrible  specter,  such  as  I  have 
just  seen  disappear.  But  I  said  to  myself,  I  will  not  fear  him, 
for  if  I  am  a  truly  Christian  man  no  power  of  evil  can  harm 
me.  I  will  overcome  him  with  a  good  life,  and  he  shall  not 
overcome  me.  So,  in  the  name  of  God,  I  remained.  Red 
Mantle — for  such  is  his  name — appeared  to  us  continually,  but 
we  ceased  to  fear  him.  I  brought  up  my  little  ones  to  believe 
that  nothing  could  harm  them  while  they  trusted  in  God,  and 
that  any  specter  would  grow  less  and  less  who  dwelt  in  a  fam- 
ily which  had  loving  hearts  and  lived  pure  lives.  So  Red  Man- 
tle at  last  became  my  little  ones'  playmate.  We  restrained  our 
dispositions,  we  guarded  our  thoughts,  we  loved  each  other,  we 
prayed  together  much,  and  the  specter  began  to  grow  more  gen- 
tle and  to  shrink  in  size  year  by  year  until  he  became  the  dwarf 
you  saw  when  he  came  in  the  evening  to  prayers.  All  evil  dis- 
appeared from  his  face,  and  we  all  loved  him  as  a  meek  and 
harmless  house-spirit,  and  expected  that  he  would  soon  be  re- 
leased from  this  troubled  state  and  vanish  forever." 

The  next  morning  the  merchant  left  the  cottage.  Years 
passed  away.  He  traveled  from  city  to  city,  and  into  countries 
remote  from  Germany,  but  he  never  forgot  the  experience  of 
that  night. 

One  afternoon,  near  sunset,  he  found  himself  on  the  borders 
of  the  same  forest  as  before,  and  he  resolved  again  to  strike 
down  the  defile  and  see  what  had  become  of  the  good  collier 
family. 

It  was  somewhat  late  when  the  cottage  appeared  before  him. 
He  dismounted  and  entered.  They  were  singing  "  Now  all  the 
woods  are  sleeping."  It  was  the  hour  of  prayer.  The  mer- 
chant knelt  down  by  the  white-haired  old  man,  expecting  every 
moment  the  house-spirit  would  reappear;  but  the  little  old  man 
did  not  come.  Only  a  soft  light  was  shed  abroad  amid  the 
shadows  of  the  room,  and  a  sweet  low  melody  arose  like  the 
touch  of  the  most  delicate  fingers  on  finely  attuned  musical- 
glasses.  It  was  all  that  remained  of  the  house-spirit,  for  the 
collier  and  his  family  had  all  these  years  lived  pure  and  holy  lives. 


*'BA  G  GA  QE-  SMAS^ERHr  736 

♦'  That  was  once  our  house-spirit,"  said  the  collier,  "but  it  can 
only  now  make  its  presence  known  to  us  as  a  gentle  light  and 
as  a  strain  of  music  sweet  and  low.  We  have  subdued  him  by 
innocence  and  prayer." 

"  Baggagb-smashbi^s." 

The  way  certain  railroad  men  handle  the  trunks  of  travelers 
is  sometimes  shocking  to  the  most  indifferent  spectator,  and 
has  earned  for  them  the  familiar  name  of  "baggage-smashers." 

A  few  years  ago  one  of  these  men  tumbled  a  long,  peculiar- 
looking  box  from  the  porter's  truck  into  a  baggage  car  at  the 
Old  Colony  depot  at  Boston,  and  stood  it  on  end,  in  the  usual 
rough  fashion,  when  a  stifled  voice  cried,  "O  don't!" 

"Don't  what?"  said  the  astonished  "smasher,"  gazing  at  the 
box. 

"Don't  stand  me  on  my  head!  Turn  me  over,  quick!"  said 
the  voice. 

The  excited  baggage-man  hurriedly  placed  the  box  in  a  hori- 
zontal position,  when  the  voice,  more  stifled  than  before,  called 
out:  "That  won't  do!     You've  put  me  on  my  face!     O!  O!" 

The  baggage-man  hastened  to  turn  the  box  over,  and  was 
awarded  by  a  grunt  of  satisfaction  from  the  voice.  Then  turn- 
ing to  the  owner — a  quiet-looking  little  man  standing  by — he 
exclaimed,  wiping  the  sweat  from  his  forehead:  "Look  here! 
You  must  pay  fare  for  this  boy  in  the  box!" 

"O  no,"  said  the  owner.  "I  have  carried  him  thousands  of 
miles  on  railroads,  and  have  never  paid  his  fare  yet." 

"No  matter,"  said  the  baggage-man.  "You  can't  smuggle 
nobody  over  this  line,  and  if  you  don't  fork  over  I'll  set  him  out 
on  the  platform  and  leave  him  standing  on  his  head  till  you  do." 

"  Why,  sir,  he's  a  dead-head!  the  conductor  has  passed  him 
many  a  time,"  remonstrated  the  traveler. 

"  We  don't  dead-head  no  live  folks  in  boxes,"  said  the  smash- 
er; and  he  was  about  to  tumble  the  box  out,  when  the  conduct- 
or came  along,  and  recognizing  the  traveler,  inquired,  "  What's 
the  trouble,  Signer  Blitz.?" 

It  was,  in  fact.  Blitz,  the  ventriloquist,  and  the  occupant  of 
the  box  was  no  other  than  his  automaton  "boy,"  Bobby,  that 
figured  in  his  performances,  and  always  traveled  as  a  "  dead- 
head" in  this  way. 


736  TRAVEL  AND  ADVENTURE. 

I^AMASTONE,  South  flPi^icA. 


BY  BISHOP  WILLIAM  TAYLOR. 


Kamastone  mission  was  commenced  by  Mr.  Shepstone  in 
1847.  '^^^  mission-house  is  plain,  but  spacious  and  commodi- 
ous. Coming  put  on  the  fi'ont  verandah,  we  see  below  us  a 
large  orchard  of  well-grown  apple,  pear,  and  other  varieties  of 
fruit-trees.  To  the  right,  distant  perhaps  a  hundred  yards,  is 
the  shop  which  furnishes  supplies  for  the  neighborhood,  kept 
by  a  good  brother,  who  sold  me  a  Kaffir  pony,  a  superior  "trip- 
ler,"  for  £13,  which  carried  my  son  Stuart  seven  hundred  miles 
through  Kaffraria  and  Natal.  On  each  side,  and  in  the  rear  of 
the  mission-house,  we  see  the,  huts  and  cabins  of  the  natives, 
their  gardens  and  cultivated  fields,  with  their  herds  of  horses, 
cattle,  sheep,  goats,  dogs,  and  naked  children.  On  the  opposite 
side  of  the  mission -house  from  the  shop,  and  about  the  same 
distance  from  it,  is  the  chapel,  a  ci'uciform,  plain,  and  substan- 
tial building,  with  sittings  for  about  six  hundred  persons. 

On  Sabbath,  the  14th  of  July,  at  10  a.m.,  we  commenced  our 
work  there.  Every  squai"e  foot  of  space  in  the  chapel  is 
crowded.  The  space  right  and  left,  from  the  pulpit  and  altar, 
back  to  the  side-walls,  is  filled  with  the  white  colonial  farmers 
from  a  radius  of  twenty  miles.  Next  to  them,  on  the  right,  and 
front  from  the  pulpit,  are  nearly  one  hundred  bastard  Hotten- 
tots. Opposite  to  them,  on  the  left,  and  through  the  whole 
body  of  the  chapel,  back  to  the  door,  and  round  the  doors  and 
windows  outside,  were  all  the  varieties  of  Fingoes  and  Kaffirs, 
Christians  in  European  dress,  and  heathens  in  their  native  cos- 
tumes and  ti'inkets,  packed  together  almost  as  snugly  as  her- 
rings in  a  barrel.  The  preliminary  service  is  conducted  by  the 
venerable  superintendent;  then  he  is  seated  in  the  altar,  while 
I  and  brother  Pamla  take  the  pulpit.  While  we  explain  to  them 
God's  provision  of  salvation,  the  personality  and  abiding  pres- 
ence of  the  Holy  Spii-it,  and  his  methods  of  saving  sinners 
through  human  agency,  you  feel  and  see  the  indications  of  a 
rising,  swelling  tide  of  the  Spirit's  power,  and  you  wonder  that, 
imder  the  pressure  of  such  pent-up  mental  and  emotional  action, 
there  is  not  a  single  audible  response.  All  faces  upturned,  tears, 
smiles,  distorted  features,  trembling  limbs,  but  not  a  murmur. 


KAMA  STONE,  SO  UTH  A  FRICA,  787 

Lo!  there's  a  man  back  near  the  door,  who  cannot  longer  re- 
strain  his  feelings,  but  with  one  burst  of  half-sinothercd  emo- 
tions  see  him  try  to  rush  for  the  door,  to  take  himself  away, 
and  not  disturb  the  um/undisi  or  his  hearers.  In  his  attempt  he 
falls  down,  but  keeps  moving  on  hands  and  knees  through  the 
packed  masses  who  are  standing  and  sitting  in  the  aisle,  out  at 
the  door  he  rushes,  and  away  where  he  can  roar  till  his  over- 
charged  soul  is  relieved.  All  this  we  see  from  the  pulpit;  but 
nobody  is  disturbed,  all  the  rest  remain  quiet,  and  catch  every 
sentence  of  gospel  truth  we  utter,  and  drink  in  the  Spirit's  in- 
fluence as  the  thirsty  land  drinks  in  the  rain.  We  close  the 
service  with  singing  and  prayer,  by  brother  Pamla. 

At  2  P.M.  we  again  stand  before  a  packed  audience  in  the 
same  order  as  in  the  morning.  In  the  morning  the  preaching 
was  to  the  believers;  now  we  open  a  gospel  battery  upon  the 
ungodly,  and  the  shafts  of  truth  directed  by  the  Spirit's  unerr- 
ing aim  pierced  the  hearts  of  hundreds.  At  the  close  of  the 
sermon  we  proceed  with  the  prayer-meeting.  We  invite  the 
white  seekers  to  kneel  at  the  altar-rail,  and  the  Kaffirs  to  com- 
mence with  the  front  forms,  and  kneel  at  every  alternate  form 
back  to  the  door,  thus  leaving  space  for  their  instructors  to  pass 
through  them,  and  get  access  to  every  seeker.  Soon  the  altar 
IS  crowded  with  whites,  and  about  two  hundred  natives  are 
down  as  seekers  of  pardon.  Now  their  pent-up  feelings  get 
vent,  and  mid  floods  of  tears,  sighs,  and  groans,  they  are  all 
audibly  pleading  with  God  in  the  name  of  Jesus  Christ  for  the 
pardon  of  their  sins.  No  one  voice  is  raised  much  above  the 
rest,  so  that  it  seems  to  create  no  confusion. 

Charles  is  a  general  in  conducting  a  prayer-meeting,  judi- 
ciously arranging  every  thing,  rightly  employing  every  worker 
under  his  command,  and  setting  all  an  example  by  working 
most  effectively  himself.  A  large  number  embrace  Christ  and 
find  salvation  at  this  service.  Giving  a  little  time  for  refresh- 
ment, we  commence  another  preaching  service  at  7,  and  con- 
tinued the  prayer-meeting  till  11  p.m.  It  was  a  day  never  to  be 
forgotten  by  any  who  witnessed  its  scenes,  and  felt  the  power 
of  the  Spirit  as  manifested  at  the  three  services.  On  Monday, 
at  II  A.M.,  the  chapel  was  packed  as  tightly  as  on  the  Sabbath. 
Brother  Shepstone,  as  usual,  conducted  the  opening  service. 
As  I  always  preached  my  sermon  to  m}'  interpreter  alone,  and, 
47 


738  TRAVEL  AND  ADVENTURE. 

as  most  of  our  time  was  occupied  in  public,  we  often  took  the 
time  of  the  opening  service  for  our  preparation  for  the  pulpit. 
At  the  Monday  prayer-meeting,  the  crowd  of  seekers  seemed 
almost  as  great  as  it  was  the  day  before,  though  several  scores 
had  been  saved.  Many  whom  we  saw  yestei'day  in  their  peni- 
tential struggle,  apparently  suffering  the  agony  of  death,  weep- 
ing and  piteously  pleading  for  release  from  Satan  and  the 
death-penalty  of  the  law,  are  now  with  shining  faces  singing 
and  witnessing  for  Jesus. 

My  son  Stuart  was  greatly  blessed,  and  for  hours  we  see  him 
laboring  with  a  party  of  young  men,  several  of  whom  he  won 
to  Christ. 

See  the  altar  crowded  with  whites — one  after  another  they 
receive  Christ,  and  are  filled  with  unspeakable  joy!  Fathers 
and  mothers  embi^ace  their  saved  prodigal  sons  and  daughters 
in  their  arms,  kiss  them,  and  weep  tears  of  gratitude,  and  praise 
God. 

There's  a  heathen  doctor  among  the  seekers,  decorated  with 
strings  of  beads,  shells,  and  all  sorts  of  trinkets  and  charms. 
He  feels  that  these  things  are  hindering  his  aj^proach  to  Christ, 
and  now  he  scatters  them.  Nothing  has  been  said  about  these 
things  in  the  preaching,  or  personally  to  the  seekers,  but  they 
are  not  simply  the  ornaments  of  their  half-naked  bodies,  which 
might  justly  claim  a  little  covering,  even  of  beads,  in  the  ab- 
sence of  something  better;  these  were  the  badges  of  their  hea- 
thenism, their  gods  and  charms,  in  which  they  trusted  for  health, 
good  crops,  good  luck  in  hunting,  deliverance  from  their  ene- 
mies, and  all  those  demands  of  human  nature  which  God  only 
can  supply.  Hence,  in  accepting  Christ,  they  violently  tear 
these  idols  off  and  cast  them  away.  We  see  women  tearing 
open  the  brass  bands  on  their  arms,  and  throwing  them  down. 
They  were  great  treasures  before,  but  now  they  hate  them. 
Many  of  those  who  an  hour  ago  were  roaring  in  the  disqui- 
etude of  their  souls  are  now  sitting  quietly  at  the  feet  of  Jesus, 
with  tearful  eyes  and  smiling  faces.  Many,  however,  ^ixercise 
their  first  new  life  in  witnessing  for  Christ. 

See  that  Kaffir  Boanerges,  how  he  talks!     I  wish  we  could 

understand  his  language.    "  Charles,  what  is  that  man  saying?" 

"  O,  he  says,  '  I  never  knew  that  I  was  such  a  sinner  till  the 

Holy  Ghost  shined  into  me;  then  I  saw  that  I  was  one  of  the 


KAMASTONE,  SOUTH  AFRICA.  739 

worst  sinners  in  the  world,  O  I  cried  to  God,  gave  my  wicked 
heart  to  him,  and  received  Christ.  Glory  to  Jesus!  He  has 
pardoned  all  my  sins!'" 

We'll  look  after  the  white  seekers.  Tlierc's  an  old  man  who 
has  had  a  hard  struggle.  lie  was  at  it  all  yesterday;  but  now 
he  has  accepted  Christ,  and  rejoices  in  the  love  of  God.  There 
is  a  little  boy  who  was  forward  yesterday,  but  his  countenance 
is  bright;  we'll  see  what  he  has  found.  "My  little  brother, 
have  you  given  your  heart  to  God?"  "Yes,  I  have."  "Have 
you  received  Jesus  as  your  Saviour?"  "  O  yes,  and  he  has  for- 
given me  all  my  sins."  "How  did  you  feel  when  you  came 
forward?"  "O,  I  felt  nasty."  "How  do  you  feel  now?"  "O, 
I  feel  nice." 

A  few  feet  from  this  boy  we  see  a  large,  fine-looking  Kaffir- 
woman,  well-dressed  in  English  costume,  wearing  a  large  scar- 
let shawl.  We  saw  her  bow  down  calmly  as  a  seeker;  with 
flowing  tears  and  subdued  utterances  she  gave  herself  to  God, 
and  received  Christ,  and  obtained  salvation  in  less  than  fifteen 
minutes.  Now  her  countenance  is  beaming  with  joy  unspeak- 
able. "  Charles,  ask  that  woman  where  she  belongs."  With 
what  marvelous  grace  and  eloquence  she  talks!  "What  does 
she  say,  Charles?"  "  She  says  she  walked  from  Heald  Town, 
forty-six  miles,  to  get  to  this  meeting.  She  could  not  get  to 
your  meetings  in  H^ald  Town,  but  heard  of  the  great  work  of 
God  there,  and  has  come  here  to  get  you  to  tell  her  how  to  come 
to  Jesus.  She  says  she  believed  what  her  friends  at  Heald 
Town  told  her  about  the  great  salvation;  but  now  she  has  found 
it  herself,  and  says  the  half  had  not  been  told  her." 

There's  a  grand  pantomime.  We  don't  know  what  that 
Kaffir  man  is  saying,  but  really  his  action  is  most  earnest  and 
graceful.  "Charles,  what  is  he  saying?"  He  says:  "I  was 
going  on  in  my  sins,  and  did  not  know  that  I  was  in  any  dan- 
ger till  to-day.  But  to-day  the  Holy  Ghost  shined  upon  my 
path.  I  saw  hell  open  just  close  before  me,  and  I  was  rushing 
into  it;  but  I  turned  to  God,  and  laid  hold  on  Christ,  and  he 
has  saved  my  soul  from  hell." 

See  that  old  Kafiir  woman  supporting  her  withered  fr.ime  on 
sticks  as  she  moves  up  and  down  the  aisle  in  a  regular  Kaffir 
dance,  and  talking  so  earnestly.  A  more  comical-looking  old 
creature  I  never  saw. 


740  TRAVEL  AND  ADVENTURE. 

"  Brother  Shepstone,  what's  the  matter  with  that  old  woman  ? " 
"'I  don't  know;  she  looks  like  a  crazy  person.  I'll  go  and 
hear  what  she's  saying."  Down  the  aisle,  amid  the  struggling 
masses  of  the  seekers  and  the  saved,  the  old  missionary  goes  to 
hear  the  talk  of  the  old  woman.  Returning  with  a  smile,  he 
says:  "She's  not  crazy  at  all,  but  has  just  come  to  her  right 
mind.  She  has  obtained  salvation,  and  is  exhorting  the  i:)eopIe 
to  go  on  and  tell  everybody  about  Jesus.  She  is  in  a  transport 
of  joy.  I  know  her  now.  I  have  seen  her  at  a  heathen  kraal 
in  the  neighborhood,  but  I  never  saw  her  in  the  chapel  before." 
"Her  age  must  date  back  a  long  way  toward  'the  flood.'  "  "  I 
don't  know  how  old  she  is,"  replied  the  old  missionary,  "but 
her  son,  whom  I  know,  is  seventy-five  years  old."  I  look  again 
at  the  old  creature,  and  laugh  and  weep.  She  seems  to  be  a 
relation  to  the  antediluvians.  Whether  this  seventy-five-year- 
old  lad  was  her  oldest  or  youngest  son  I  did  not  learn,  and  yet 
as  only  to-day  "born  again,"  and  has  become  a  babe  in  Christ. 
These  are  mere  bird's-eye  glances  into  a  scene  that  cannot  be 
described.  We  had  a  grand  service  Monday  night.  On  Tues- 
day, at  II  A.M.,  we  preached  on  "Christian  Perfection" — went 
into  the  philosophy  of  the  subject — and  of  the  Spirit's  gracious 
adjustment  to  the  instincts,  appetites,  and  passions,  and  ex- 
plained clearly,  even  to  Kaftir  minds,  God's  purpose  as  to  their 
existence,  proper  discipline,  and  appropriate  exercise.  The 
whole  thing  was  simplified,  so  that  every  believing  Kaffir  could 
see  it.  Brother  Shepstone  said  he  never  supposed  before  that 
the  Kaflir  language  could  be  used  to  convey  so  perfectly  the 
Wihole  gospel,  and  had  never  conceived  it  possible  for  an  inter- 
preter to  put  such  a  variety  of  English  words  and  ideas  into 
Kaffir.  He  expressed  his  surprise  repeatedly  that  Charles  not 
only  put  my  ideas  into  Kaffir  to  their  nicest  shades  of  meaning, 
but  did  it  with  such  masterly  facility.  The  fact  is,  though  I 
gave  him  every  statement  of  truth  and  illustrative  fact  in  a  ser- 
mon, just  as  I  would  give  them  in  preaching  directly  to  an 
English  audience,  yet  I  had  always  gone  through  each  subject 
of  discourse  beforehand  with  him  alone.  If  there  was  a  word 
he  did  not  understand,  I  at  once  ignored  it,  and  substituted  one 
that  was  familiar  to  him;  but  he  was  so  thirsty  for  knowledge 
himself  that  if  possible  he  always  preferred  to  learn  the  mean- 
ing of  my  words  and  to  select  new  Kaffir  words  to  fit  them, 


KAMASTONE,  SO  UTH  A FRICA.  741 

and  the  exact  mcaninjj  of  a  foreij^n  illustration  he  would  give 
through  a  corresponding  figure  familiar  to  the  Kaflir  mind. 
For  example:  "An  ivy  crawled  out  from  between  the  roots  of 
a  beautiful  sapling,  and  entwined  itself  around  the  trunk  of  the 
young  tree.  It  gradually  absorbed  the  strength  of  the  soil  and 
moisture  that  the  tree  needed  for  its  life,  and  tightened  its  many- 
folded  girth,  till  it  obstructed  the  sap-vessels  of  the  tree.  The 
tree  had  grown  tall  and  mighty,  but  the  deceitful  ivy  did  its 
deadly  work.  The  noble  tree  declined,  lingered  long,  but  finally 
didd.  When  I  stood  by  the  grand  old  tree  it  was  dead,  and  all 
the  dews  of  heaven,  and  the  fruitful  supplies  of  the  earth,  and 
all  the  skill  of  all  the  gardeners  could  not  cause  that  tree  to  bud. 
It  was  dead.  Application — the  deceitful  ivy  of  sin  in  the  souls 
of  all  sinners." 

There  is  no  ivy  in  South  Africa,  therefore  the  literal  base  of 
that  figure  would  be  utterly  lost  on  a  Kaffir,  but  the  milkwood 
of  South'Africa  furnishes  a  figure  quite  as  forcible.  It  entwines 
itself  around  a  tree  as  gently  as  the  ivy,  its  hundreds  of  delicate 
tendril  feelers  encircle  the  tree,  mat  together,  and  then  unite  in 
solid  wood,  until  it  completely  envelopes  the  grand  old  tree. 
The  foreign  thing  at  first  simply  seemed  to  hang  on  as  a  loose, 
ornamental  foliage,  but  in  process  of  time  the  tree  within  its 
folds  is  choked  to  death,  and  its  gradual  decay  supplies  nourish- 
ing food  for  its  destroyer  for  generations  to  come. 

I  have  often  seen  these  noble  trees  of  different  kinds  in  all 
stages  of  this  deadly  process,  and  could  not  restrain  a  thrill  of 
sympathetic  horror  of  being  thus  hugged  to  death  and  devoured 
piece-meal. 

When  I  first  introduced  my  ivy  illustration  to  Charles,  he 
said,  "The  Kaffirs  don't  know  what  you  mean  by  ivy."  "  Very 
well,"  said  I,  "we'll  not  use  it."  "No,"  said  he,  "it  is  too  good 
an  illustration  to  lose;  since  you  have  explained  it  to  me  I  un- 
derstand it  well,  and  if  you  will  give  it  as  the  ivy  I  will  give  it 
exactly  by  the  milkwood,  which  every  Kaffir  knows." 

We  closed  our  special  series  of  services  at  Kamastone  at  3 
P.M.,  on  Tuesday,  the  17th  of  July.  Just  before  we  closed 
Charles  gave  them  an  account  of  the  great  work  of  God  at 
Annshaw,  and  told  them  how  they  had  battled  for  years  to  put 
away  all  heathen  customs  from  among  them,  especially  the 
drinkino-  of  Kaffir  beer,  with  all  its  attendant  abominations,  and 


742  TRAVEL  AND  ADVENTURE. 

that  the  work  of  God  never  prospered  among  them  till  they 
had  put  away  all  the§e  things  and  come  out  fully  on  the  Lord's: 
side,  and  then  the  Holy  Spirit  came  among  them  and  saved 
hundreds  of  their  friends  and  of  wild  heathens.  While  Charles 
was  speaking,  Brother  Shepstone  became  so  interested  in  his 
narrative  that  he  got  up  from  his  seat  and  stood  before  the  pul- 
pit, looking  up  at  my  man,  and  finally,  seeming  to  forget  him- 
self, he  shouted  out,  "Hear!  hear!  hear!" 

During  our  series  of  two  days  and  a  half,  in  which  we 
preached  six  sermons  and  held  five  prayer-meetings,  Brother 
Shepstone  took  the  names  of  two  hundred  natives  and  twenty 
whites  who  professed  at  those  services  to  find  the  pardon  of 
their  sins  through  an  acceptance  of  Christ.  In  a  letter  I  re- 
ceived from  the  Rev.  Mr.  Shepstone,  dated  November  13th, 
four  months  after  our  departure,  he  says:  "  Since  your  arrival 
on  this  station  up  to  the  present  we  havd  added  about  two  hun- 
dred and  fifty  to  our  society  at  Kamastone.  On  the  2'8th  ult.  1 
baptized  from  among  the  heathen  one  hundred  and  sixty  indi-' 
viduals.  About  twenty  of  these  were  infants;  the  others  have 
embraced  Christianity,  and  almost  all  of  these  profess  to  have 
found  joeace  with  God  through  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ.  When 
I  met  the  society  last  quarter  for  the  renewal  of  tickets,  there 
was  such  a  union  of  love  and  Christian  feeling  among  the  mem- 
bers as  gave  me  great  pleasure.  I  was  rejoiced  to  find  that 
they  had  risen  up  into  a  higher  region  of  Christian  experience." 

An  eye-witness  to  the  baptismal  service  admitting  one  hun- 
dred and  forty  adult  heathens  to  the  Church,  as  above  stated, 
writing  to  a  local  journal  in  Qiieen's  Town,  and  quoted  by  the 
Wesleyan  Missionary  Notices,  says:  "Many  of  the  candidates 
for  baptism  were  gray-headed  men  and  women.  In  one  in- 
stance we  saw  an  aged  man  and  his  wife,  tottering  on  the  verge 
of  the  grave,  who  a  few  months  ago  were  walking  in  the  paths 
of  sin,  but  now  clothed  and  in  their  right  mind.  Women  who 
a  short  time  ago  were  found  at  the  dance,  besmeared  with  red 
clay,  and  indulging  in  all  the  licentiousness  of  those  abominable 
scenes,  now  were  clothed  in  decent  European  apparel,  not  only 
being  baptized  themselves,  but  bringing  their  infants  also.  The 
large  church  was  crowded  with  attentive  observers,  and  no  one. 
could  view  the  scene  uymoved,  or  without  feelings  of  deep 
gratitude  to  the  Great   Head   of  the  Church.     In  several  in- 


TRUSTING  A  COSSACK.  743 

stances  these  converts  have  suffered  considerable  persecution 
from  their  heathen  relations — -some  have  been  driven  from  their 
homes,  some  have  been  severely  beaten,  others  have  been  tied 
fast  to  the  pole  of  the  house  and  watched,  that  they  might  not 
go  out  and  pray  to  the  Great  Spirit.  Yet  in  almost  every  case 
persecution  has  only  produced  the  same  eflccts  it  did  in  days 
of  old,  to  make  the  objects  of  it  more  determined  than  ever  to 
serve  God  rather  than  man." 

©I^USIPING  A  ^OSSAGI^. 
A  Cossack  rode  up  to  the  door  of  a  little  inn  at  Brailc,  dis- 
mounted, drank  a  succession  of  glasses  of  brandy,  and  then 
made  a  show  of  remounting  his  horse.  The  landlord  reminded 
him  that  he  had. not  paid  for  his  drinks.  The  Cossack,  with  a 
heavy  sigh,  drew  out  his  dirty  purse  and  began  fumbling  for  a 
coin,  when  his  horse  gave  a  sudden  snort  and  fell  to  the  ground. 
The  Cossack  was  in  despair;  he  did  every  thing  he  could  to 
raise  the  beast  upon  its  legs,  but  all  was  in  vain.  "  He  is  dead! 
he  is  dead!''  cried  out  in  chorus  a  number  of  by-standers,  who 
had  been  attracted  to  the  spot  by  the  accident.  The  poor  Cos- 
jack  would  not  believe  it.  The  crowd,  knowing  that  a  Cos- 
sack's horse  is  his  own  property,  and  that  the  loss  of  the  animal 
would  be  a  terrible  blow  to  the  owner,  began  to  make  a  collec- 
tion in  order  to  mitigate  his  sufferings  as  far  as  possible.  Even 
the  landlord  was  touched,  forgot  his  bill,  and  presented  the  be- 
reaved man  with  another  glass  of  brandy,  refusing  any  pay. 
The  Cossack  lifted  up  his  saddle,  slung  hfs  lance  over  his  shoul- 
der, dropped  a  farewell  tear  over  the  faithful  beast,  and  walked 
sorrowfully  away.  When  he  was  about  i,ock>  paces  distant  he 
suddenly  stopped,  turned  round,  and  gave  a  long,  shrill  whistle. 
At  the  sound  of  the  well-known  signal  the  horse  sprung  up, 
neighed  a  friendly  answer,  and  darted  off  with  a  lightning 
speed  to  his  grinning  ownei".  The  Cossack  was  soon  on  his 
back,  making  significant  symbols  of  thanks  to  the. assembled 
crowd  for  their  generosity  and  sympathy.  In  a  few  moments 
he  was  out  of  sight,  and  the  landlord  of  the  krottchma  was 
loudly  registering  his  vow  that  he  would  never  again  trust  a 
Cossack,  It  has  long  been  a  proverb  that  "  there  are  tricks  in 
all  trades  but  ours,"  and  the  landlord  could  only  console  him- 
self by  reflecting  on  the  results  of  his  own  occupation. 


744  TRAVEL  AND  ADVENTURE. 

"^OI^F^AIiBD." 


BY  0.  P.  FITZGEBALD,  D.D. 


"  So  you  were  corraled  last  night? " 

This  was  the  remark  of  a  friend  whom  I  met  in  the  streets 
of  Stockton  the  morning  after  my  adventure.  I  knew  what 
the  expression  meant  as  aj^pHed  to  cattle,  but  I  had  never  heard 
it  before  in  reference  to  a  human  being.  Yes,  I  had  been  cor- 
raled, and  this  is  how  it  happened: 

It  was  in  the  old  days,  before  there  were  any  i-ailroads  in  Cal- 
ifornia. With  a  wiry,  clean-limbed  pinto  horse,  I  undertook  to 
drive  from  Sacramento  City  to  Stockton  one  day.  It  was  in 
the  winter  season,  and  the  clouds  were  sweeping  up  from  the 
south-west,  the  snow- crested  Sierras  hidden  from  sight  by  dense 
masses  of  vapor  boiling  against  their  bases  and  massed  against 
their  sides.  The  roads  were  heavy  from  the  effects  of  previous 
rains,  and  the  plucky  little  pinto  sweated  as  he  pulled  through 
the  long  stretches  of  black  adobe  mud.  A  cold  wind  struck 
me  in  the  face,  and  the  ride  was  a  dreaiy  one  from  the  start. 
But  I  pushed  on  confidently,  having  faith  in  the  spotted  mus- 
tang, despite  the  evident  fact  that  he  had  lost  no  little  of  the 
spirit  with  which  he  dashed  out  of  town  at  starting.  When  a 
genuine  mustang  flags  it  is  a  .serious  business.  The  hardiness 
and  endurance  of  this  breed  of  horses  almost  exceed  belief. 

Toward  night  a  cold  rain  began  to  fall,  driving  in  my  face 
with  the  head-wind.  Still  many  a  long  mile  lay  between  me 
and  Stockton.  Dark  came  on,  and  it  was  dark  indeed.  The 
outline  of  the  horse  I  was  driving  could  not  be  seen,  and  the 
flat  country  through  which  I  was  driving  was  a  great  black  sea 
of  night.  I  trusted  to  the  instinct  of  the  horse,  and  moved  on. 
The  bells  of  a  wagon-team  meeting  me  fell  upon  my  ear.  I 
called  out, 

"Halloo  there!" 

"What's  the  matter?"  answered  a  heavy  voice  through  the 
darkness. 

"Am  I  in  the  road  to  Stockton,  and  can  I  get  there  to- 
night?" 

"You  are  in  the  road,  but  you  will  never  find  your  way 
such  a  night  as  this.     It  is  ten  good  miles  from  here;  you  have 


''CORRALEDr  746 

several  bridges  to  cross — you  had  better  stop  at  the  first  house 
you  come  to,  about  half  a  mile  ahead.  I  am  going  to  strike 
camp  myself." 

I  thanked  my  adviser  and  went  on,  hearing  the  sound  of  the 
tinkling  bells,  but  unable  to  see  any  thing.  In  a  little  while  I 
saw  a  light  ahead,  and  was  glad  to  see  it.  Driving  up  in  front, 
and  halting,  I  repeated  the  traveler's  "halloo"  several  times, 
and  at  last  got  a  response  in  a  hoarse,  gruff  voice. 

"  I  am  belated  on  my  way  to  Stockton,  and  am  cold,  and 
tired,  and  hungry.     Can  I  get  shelter  with  you  for  the  night?" 

"You  may  try  it  if  you  want  to,"  answered  the  unmusical 
Voice  abruptly. 

In  a  few  moments  a  man  appeared  to  take  the  horse,  and  tak- 
ing my  satchel  in  hand,  I  went  into  the  house.  The  first  thing 
that  struck  my  attention  on  entering  the  room  was  a  big  log-fire, 
which  I  was  glad  to  see,  for  I  was  wet  and  very  cold.  Taking 
a  chair  in  the  corner,  I  looked  around.  The  scene  that  pre- 
sented itself  was  not  reassuring.  The  main  feature  of  the  room 
was  a  bar,  with  an  ample  supply  of  barrels,  demijohns,  bottles, 
tumblers,  and  all  the  et  cceteras.  Behind  the  counter  stood  the 
proprietor,  a  burly  fellow  with  a  buffalo-neck,  fair  skin,  and 
blue  eyes,  with*  a  frightful  scar  across  his  left  under-jaw  and 
neck;  his  shirt-collar  was  open,  exposing  a  huge  chest,  and  his 
sleeves  were  rolled  up  above  the  elbows.  I  noticed  also  that 
one  of  his  hands  was  minus  all  the  fingers  but  the  half  of  one — 
the  result  probably  of  some  desperate  rencounter.  I  did  not 
like  the  appearance  of  my  landlord,  and  he  eyed  me  in  a  way 
that  led  me  to  fear  that  he  liked  my  looks  as  little  as  I  did  his; 
but  the  claims  of  other  guests  soon  diverted  his  attention  from 
me,  and  I  was  left  to  get  warm  and  to  make  further  observa- 
tions. At  a  table  in  the  middle  of  the  room  several  hard-look- 
ing fellows  were  betting  at  cards,  amid  terrible  profanity  and 
frequent  drinks  of  whisky.  They  cast  inquiring  and  not  ver}- 
friendly  glances  at  me  from  time  to  time,  once  or  twice  exchang- 
ing whispers  and  giggling.  As  their  play  went  on,  and  tumbler 
after  tumbler  of  whisky  was  drunk  by  them,  they  became  more 
boisterous.  Threats  were  made  of  using  pistols  and  knives, 
with  which  they  all  seemed  to  be  heavily  armed;  and  one  sot- 
tish-looking brute  actually  drew  forth  a  pistol,  but  was  disarmed 
in  no  gentle  way  by  the  big-limbed  landlord.     The  profanity 


746  TRAVEL  AND  ADVENTURE. 

and  other  foul  language  were  horrible.  Many  of  my  readers 
have  no  conception  of  the  brutishness  of  men  when  whisky 
and  Satan  have  full  possession  of  them.  In  the  midst  of  a  vol- 
ley of  oaths  and  terrible  imprecations  by  one  of  the  most  vio- 
lent of  the  set,  there  was  a  faint  gleam  of  lingering  decency 
exhibited  by  one  of  his  companions: 

"Blast  it,  Dick,  don't  cuss  so  loud — that  fellow  in  the  corner 
there  is  a  preacher!" 

There  was  some  potency  in  "  the  cloth  "  even  there.  How 
he  knew  my  calling  I  do  not  know.  The  remark  directed  par- 
ticular attention  to  me,  and  I  became  unpleasantly  conspicuous. 
Scowling  glances  were  bent  upon  me  by  two  or  three  of  the 
ruffians,  and  one  fellow  made  a  profane  remark  not  at  all  com- 
plimentary to  my  vocation,  whereat  there  was  some  coarse 
laughter.  In  the  meantime  I  was  conscious  of  being  very  hun- 
gry. My  hunger,  like  that  of  a  boy,  is  a  very  positive  thing — 
at  least  it  was  very  much  so  in  those  days.  Glancing  towai^d 
the  maimed  and  scarred  giant  who  stood  behind  the  bar,  I  found 
he  was  gazing  at  me  with  a  fixed  expression. 

"Can  I  get  something  to  eat?  I  am  very  hungry,  sir,"  I  said 
in  my  blandest  tones. 

"Yes,  we've  plenty  of  cold  goose,  and  maybe  Pete  can  pick 
up  something  else  for  you  if  he  is  sober  and  in  a  good  humor. 
Come  this  way." 

I  followed  him  through  a  narrow  passage-way,  which  led  to 
a  long,  low-ceiled  room,  along  nearly  the  whole  length  of  which 
was  stretched  a  table,  around  which  were  placed  rough  stools 
for  the  rough  men  about  the  place. 

Pete,  the  cook,  came  in,  and  the  head  of  the  house  turned  me 
over  to  him  and  returned  to  his  duties  behind  the  bar.  From 
the  noise  of  the  uproar  going  on  his  presence  was  doubtless 
needed.  Pete  set  before  me  a  large  roasted  wild-goose,  not 
badly  cooked,  with  hj'ead,  milk,  and  the  inevitable  cucumber 
pickles.  The  knives  and  forks  were  not  very  bright — in  fact, 
they  had  been  subjected  to  influences  promotive  of  oxidation; 
and  the  dishes  were  not  free  from  signs  of  former  use.  Noth- 
ing could  be  said  against  the  table-cloth — there  was  no  table- 
cloth there.  But  the  goose  was  fat,  brown,  and  tender;  and  a 
hungry  man  defers  his  criticisms  until  he  is  done  eating. 
That  is  what  I  did.     Pete  evidently  regarded  me  with  curiosity. 


''CORRALED."  747 

He  was  about  fifty  years  of  age,  and  had  the  look  of  a  man  who 
had  come  down  in  the  world.  His  face  bore  the  marks  of  the 
effects  of  strong  drink,  but  it  was  not  a  bad  face;  it  was  more 
weak  than  wicked. 

"Are  you  a  preacher?"  he  asked. 

"I  thought  so,"  he  added,  after  getting  my  answer  to  hi» 
question.     "Of  what  persuasion  are  you  ?  "  he  further  inquired. 

When  I  told  him  I  was  a  Methodist,  he  said  quickly  and  with 
some  warmth: 

"  I  was  sure  of  it.  This  is  a  rough  place  for  a  man  of  your 
calling.  Would  you  like  some  eggs?  we've  plenty  on  hand. 
And  may  be  you  would  like  a  cup  of  coffee,"  he  added,  with 
increasing  hospitality. 

I  took  the  eggs,  but  declined  the  coffee,  not  liking  the  looks 
of  the  cups  and  saucers,  and  not  caring  to  wait. 

"  I  used  to  be  a  Methodist  myself,"  said  Pete,  with  a  sort  of 
choking  in  his  throat,  "but  bad  luck  and  bad  company  have 
brought  me  down  to  this.  I  have  a  family  in  Iowa,  a  wife 
and  four  children.  I  guess  they  think  I'm  dead,  and  sometimes 
I  wish  I  was." 

Pete  stood  by  my  chair,  actually  crying.  The  sight  of  a  Meth- 
odist preacher  brought  up  old  times.  He  told  me  his  story. 
He  had  come  to  California  hoping  to  make  a  fortune  in  a  hurry, 
but  had  only  ill  luck  from  the  start.  His  prospectings  were 
always  failures,  his  partners  cheated  him,  his  health  broke 
down,  his  courage  gave  way,  and — he  faltered  a  little,  and  then 
spoke  it  out — he  took  to  whisky,  and  then  the  worst  came. 

"I  have  come  to  this — cooking  for  a  lot  of  coughs  at  five  dol- 
lars a  week,  and  all  the  whisky  I  want.  It  would  have  been 
better  fqr  me  if  I  had  died  when  I  was  in  the  hospital  at  San 
Andreas." 

Poor  Pete!  he  had  indeed  touched  bottom.  But  he  had  a 
heart  and  a  conscience  still,  and  my  own  heart  warmed  toward 
my  poor  backslidden  brother. 

"  You  are  not  a  lost  man  yet.  You  are  worth  a  thousand 
dead  men.  You  can  get  out  of  this,  and  you  must.  You  must 
act  the  part  of  a  brave  man,  and  not  be  any  longer  a  coward. 
Bad  luck  and  lack  of  success  are  a  disgrace  to  no  man.  There 
is  where  you  went  wrong.  It  was  cowardly  to  give  up  and  not 
write  to  your  family,  and  then  take  to  whisky." 


748  TRAVEL  AND  ADVENTURE. 

"  I  know  all  that,  Eldei'.  There  is  no  better  little  woman  on 
earth  than  my  wife" — Pete  choked  up  again. 

"You  write  to  her  this  very  night,  and  go  back  to  her  and 
your  children  just  as  soon  as  you  can  get  the  money  to  pay  your 
way.  Act  the  man,  and  all  will  come  right  yet.  I  have  writ- 
ing-materials here  in  my  satchel — pen,  ink,  paper,  envelopes, 
stamps,  every  thing.  I  am  an  editor,  and  go  fixed  up  for 
writing." 

The  letter  was  written,  I  acting  as  Pete's  amanuensis,  he 
pleading  that  he  was  a  poor  scribe  at  best,  and  that  his  nerves 
were  too  unsteady  for  such  work.  Taking  my  advice,  he  made 
a  clean  breast  of  the  whole  matter,  throwing  himself  on  the 
forgiveness  of  his  wife  whom  he  had  so  shamefully  neglected, 
and  promising  by  the  help  of  God  to  make  all  the  amends  pos- 
sible in  time  to  come.  The  letter  was  duly  directed,  sealed, 
and  stamped,  and  Pete  looked  as  if  a  great  weight  had  been 
lifted  from  his  soul.  He  made  me  a  fire  in  the  little  stove,  say- 
ing it  was  better  than  the  bar-room,  in  which  opinion  I  was 
fully  agreed. 

"There  is  no  place  for  you  to  sleep  to-night  without  corraZm^ 
you  with  the  fellows;  there  is  but  one  bed-room,  and  there  are 
fourteen  bunks  in  it." 

I  shuddered  at  the  prospect — fourteen  bunks  in  one  small 
room,  and  those  whisky-sodden,  loud-cursing  card-players  to  be 
my  room-mates  for  the  night! 

"I  prefer  sitting  here  by  the  stove  all  night,"  I  said;  "I  can 
employ  most  of  the  time  writing  if  1  can  have  a  light." 

Pete  thought  a  moment,  looked  grave,  and  then  said : 

"That  won't  do,  Elder;  those  fellows  would  take  offense  and 
make  trouble.  Several  of  them  are  out  now  goose-hunting; 
they  will  be  coming  in  at  all  hours  between  now  and  day-break, 
and  it  won't  do  for  them  to  find  you  sitting  up  here  alone.  The 
best  thing  for  you  to  do  is  to  go  in  and  take  one  of  those  bunks; 
you  needn't  take  off  any  thing  but  your  coat  and  boots,  and  " 
— here  he  lowered  his  voice,  looking  about  him  as  he  spoke — 
"  if  you  have  any  money  about,  keep  it  next  to  your  body." 

The  last  words  were  spoken  with  peculiar  emphasis. 

Taking  the  advice  given  me,  I  took  up  my  baggage  and  fol- 
lowed Pete  to  the  room  where  I  was  to  spend  the  night.  Ugh! 
it  was  dreadful.     The  single  window  in  the  room  was  nailed 


''CORIiALED."  749 

tlown,  and  the  air  was  close  and  foul.  The  bunks  were  damp 
and  dirty  beyond  belief,  grimed  with  foulness,  and  reeking  with 
ill  odors.     This  was  beipg  corraled.     I  turned  to  Pete,  saying: 

"I  can't  stand  this — I  will  go  back  to  the  kitchen." 

"You  had  better  follow  my  advice.  Elder,"  said  he  very 
gravely.  "I  know  things  about  here  better  than  you  do.  It's 
rough,  but  you  had  better  stand  it." 

And  I  did;  being  corraled,  I  had  to  stand  it.  That  fearful 
night!  The  drunken  fellows  staggered  in  one  by  one,  cursing 
and  hiccoughing,  until  every  bunk  was  occupied.  They  mut- 
tered oaths  in  their  sleep,  and  their  stertorous  breathings  made 
a  concert  fit  for  Tartarus.  The  sickening  odors  of  whisky, 
onions,  and  tobacco  filled  the  room.  I  lay  there  and  longed  for 
daylight,  which  seemed  as  if  it  never  would  come.  I  thought 
of  the  description's  I  had  heard  and  read  of  hell,  and  just  then 
the  most  vivid  conception  of  its  horror  was  to  be  shut  up  for- 
ever with  the  aggregated  impurity  of  the  universe.  By  con- 
trast I  tried  to  think  of  that  city  of  God  into  which,  it  is  said, 
"  there  shall  in  no  wise  enter  into  it  any  thing  that  defileth, 
neither  whatsoever  workcth  abomination,  or  maketh  a  lie;  but 
they  which  are  written  in  the  Lamb's  book  of  life."  But 
thoughts  of  heaven  did  not  suit  the  situation;  it  was  more  sug- 
gestive of  the  other  place.  The  horror  of  being  shut  up  eter- 
nally in  hell  as  the  companion  of  lost  spirits  was  intensified  by 
the  experience  and  reflections  of  that  night  when  I  was  cor- 
raled. 

Day  came  at  last.  I  rose  with  the  first  streaks  of  the  dawn, 
and  not  having  much  toilet  to  make,  I  was  soon  out-of-door§. 
Never  did  I  breathe  the  pure,  fresh  air  with  such  profound 
pleasure  and  gratitude.  I  drew  deep  inspirations,  and,  open- 
ing my  coat  and  vest,  let  the  breeze  that  swept  up  the  valley 
blow  upon  me  unrestricted.  How  bright  was  the  face  of  nat- 
ure, and  how  sweet  her  breath  after  the  sights,  sounds,  and 
smells  of  the  night! 

I  did  not  wait  for  breakfast,  but  had  my  pinto  and  buggy 
brought  out,  and,  bidding  Pete  good-by,  hurried  on  to  Stockton. 

"So  you  were  corraled  last  night?"  was  the  remark  of  a 
friend,  quoted  at  the  beginning  of  this  true  sketch.  "What 
was  the  name  of  the  proprietor  of  the  house?" 

I  gave  him  the  name. 


750  TEA  VEL  AND  AD  VENT URE. 

"Dave    W !"    he    exclaimed    with    fresh    astonishment. 

"That  is  the  i-oughest  place  in  the  San  Joaquin  Valley.  Sev- 
eral men  have  been  killed  and  robbed  ^Jiere  during  the  last  two 
or  three  years." 

I  hope  Pete  got  back  safe  to  his  wife  and  children  in  Iowa, 
and  I  hope  I  may  never  be  corraled  again. 

Privateering,  which  is  now  resorted  to  by  no  civilized  coun- 
try, was  only  legalized  piracy.  Pecuniary  gain,  and  not  the  de- 
fense of  the  country,  was  the  privateersman's  motive.  He 
plundered  the  enemy's  merchantmen,  and  did  not  always  respect 
those  of  his  own  nation. 

During  the  war  of  1812,  a  vessel  at  Portsmouth,  New  Hamp- 
shire, while  returning  from  a  successful  voyage,  was  overhauled 
by  an  American  privateer.  The  captain  of  the  privateer,  hop- 
ing that  some  informality  in  the  vessel's  papers  would  give  her 
to  him  as  a  prize,  seized  her,  put  on  board  a  prize  crew,  took 
her  officers  and  crew,  except  a  negro,  on  board  the  privateer, 
and  ordered  the  vessel  to  Savannah. 

The  negro,  named  John  Francis,  knew  where  the  gold  for 
which  the  cargo  had  been  sold  was  concealed  below.  Watch- 
ing his  opportunity,  he  brought  it  up  and  buried  it  in  the  slush- 
tub,  where,  as  the  contents  were  seldom  stirred  up,  it  remained 
buried  from  sight. 

On  arriving  in  port  the  negro,  who  had  made  himself  useful 
in  navigating  the  vessel,  asked  permission  to  take  the  slush-tub, 
as  the  sale  of  the  grease  would  give  him  a  little  change. 

His  request  was  granted,  and  with  the  tub  on  his  head  he  " 
marched  on  shore,  amid  the  laughter  of  the  crew. 

He  deposited  the  gold,  fifteen  thousand  dollars  in  amount,  in 
a  bank,  and  notified  the  owners.  They  soon  drew  out  the 
amount,  and  for  his  faithfulness  built  him  a  capacious  two-story 
house. 

While  sawing  a  log  recently  in  a  Mississippi  mill,  the  work- 
men were  astonished  to  see  the  log  suddenly  take  fire  and  the 
machinery  stop.  Examining  the  saw,  they  discovered  that  ev- 
ery tooth  was  gone,  and  on  splitting  the  log  a  cannon-ball  was 
found  buried  in  the  heart. 


A  JOURNEY  TN  A   CABOOSE.  761 

p  ^our^NEY  IN  A  Caboose. 


BY  P.  T.  BARMUM. 


On  my  tour,  in  attempting  to  make  the  connection  from 
Cleveland,  Ohio,  to  Fort  Wayne,  Indiana,  via  Toledo,  I  arrived 
at  the  latter  city  at  i  o'clock  p.m.,  which  was  about  two  liourH 
too  late  to  catch  the  train  in  time  for  the  hour  announced  for 
my  lecture  that  evening.  I  went  to  Mr.  Andrews,  the  Ruper- 
intendcnt  of  the  Toledo,  Wabash,  and  Western  Railway,  and 
told  him  I  wanted  to  hire  a  locomotive  and  car  to  run  to  Fort 
Wayne,  as  I  must  be  there  at  eight  o'clock  at  night. 

"  It  is  an  impossibility,"  said  Mr.  Andrews;  "the  distance  is 
ninety-four  miles,  and  no  train  leaves  here  till  morning.  The 
road  is  much  occupied  by  freight  trains,  and  we  never  run  ex- 
tra trains  in  this  part  of  the  country  unless  the  necessity  is  im- 
perative." 

I  suppose  I  looked  astonished,  as  well  as  chagrined.  I  knew 
that  if  I  missed  lecturing  in  Fort  Wayne  that  night  I  could  not 
appoint  another  time  for  that  purpose,  for  every  night  was  en- 
gaged during  the  next  two  months.  I  also  felt  that  a  large 
number  of  persons  in  Fort  Wayne  would  be  disappointed,  and 
I  grew  despeiate.  Drawing  my  wallet  from  my  pocket,  I  said, 
"  I  will  give  two  hundred  dollars,  and  even  more,  if  you  say  so, 
to  be  put  into  Fort  Wayne  before  eight  o'clock  to-night;  and, 
really,  I  hope  you  will  accommodate  me." 

The  superintendent  looked  me  thoroughly  over  in  half  a 
minute,  and  I  fancied  he  had  come  to  the  conclusion  that  I  was 
a  burglar,  a  counterfeiter,  or  something  worse,  fleeing  from  jus- 
tice. My  surmise  was  confirmed  when  he  slowly  remarked, 
"  Your  business  must  be  very  pressing,  sir." 

"It  is  indeed,"  I  replied;  "I  am  Barnum,  the  museum  man, 
and  am  engaged  to  speak  in  Fort  W^ayne  to-night." 

He  evidently  did  not  catch  the  whole  of  my  response,  for  he 
immediately  said,  "  O,  it  is  a  show,  eh.''  Where  is  old  Barnum 
himself? " 

"I  am  Barnum,"  I  replied,  "and  it  is  a  lecture  which  I  am 
advertised  to  give  to-night;  and  I  would  not  disappoint  the 
people  for  any  thing." 


752  TRAVEL  AND  ADVENTURE. 

"Is  this  P.  T.  Barnum?"  said  the  superintendent,  starting  to 
his  feet. 

"I  am  sorry  to  say  it  is,"  I  repHed. 

"  Well,  Mr.  Barnum,"  said  he,  earnestly,  "  if  you  can  stand  it 
to  ride  to  Fort  Wayne  in  the  caboose  of  a  freight  train,  your 
well-established  reputation  for  punctuality  in  keeping  your  en- 
gagements shall  not  suffer  on  account  of  the  Toledo,  Wabash, 
and  Western  Railway." 

"Caboose!"  said  I,  with  a  laugh,  "I  would  ride  to  Fort 
Wayne  astride  of  the  engine,  or  boxed  up  and  stowed  away  in 
a  freight  car,  if  necessary,  in  order  to  meet  my  engagement." 

A  freight  train  was  on  the  point  of  starting  for  Fort  Wayne; 
all  the  cars  were  at  once  ordered  to  be  switched  off,  except  two 
which  the  superintendent  said  were  necessary  to  balance  the 
train;  the  freight  trains  on  the  road  were  telegraphed  to  clear 
the  track,  and  the  jDolite  superintendent,  pointing  to  the  caboose, 
invited  me  to  step  in. 

I  drew  out  my  pocket-book  to  pay,  but  he  smilingly  shook 
his  head,  and  said,  "You  have  a  through  ticket  from  Cleveland 
to  Fort  Wayne;  hand  it  to  the  freight  agent  on  your  arrival,  and 
all  will  be  right."  I  was  much  moved  by  this  unexpected  mark 
of  kindness,  and  expressing  myself  to  that  effect,  I  stepped  into 
the  caboose,  and  we  started. 

The  excited  state  of  mind  which  I  had  suffered  while  under 
the  impression  that  the  audience  in  Fort  Wayne  must  be  disap- 
pointed, now  changed,  and  I  felt  as  happy  as  a  king.  In  fact, 
I  enjoyed  a  new  sensation  of  imperial  superiority,  in  that  I  was 
"  monarch  of  all  I  surveyed,"  empei'or  of  my  own  train,  switch- 
ing all  other  trains  from  the  main  track,  and  making  conductors 
all  along  the  line  wonder  what  grand  mogul  had  thus  taken 
complete  possession  and  control  of  the  road.  Indeed,  as  we 
sped  past  each  train,  which  stood  quietly  on  a  side-track  wait- 
for  us  to  pass,  I  could  not  help  smiling  at  the  glances  of  excited 
curiosity  which  were  thrown  into  our  car  by  the  agent  and 
brakemen  of  the  train  which  had  been  so  peremptorily  ordered 
to  clear  the  track;  and  always  stepping  to  the  caboose  door,  I 
raised  my  hat,  receiving  in  return  an  almost  reverent  salute, 
which  the  occupants  of  the  waiting  train  thought  due,  no  doubt, 
to  the  distinguished  person  for  whom  they  were  ordered  by 
special  telegram  to  make  way. 


A  JOURNEY  IN  A  CABOOSE.  753 

I  now  began  to  reflect  that  the  Fort  Wayne  lecture  commit- 
tee, upon  discovering  that  I  did  not  arrive  by  the  regular  pas- 
senger train,  would  not  expect  me  at  all,  and  that  probably  they 
might  issue  small  bills  announcing  my  failure  to  arriva  I  there- 
fore prepared  the  following  telegram,  which  I  despatched  to 
them  on  our  arrival  at  Napoleon,  the  first  station  at  which  we 
stopped: 

Lecture  Committee,  Fort  Wayne:  Rest  perfectly  tranquil.  I 
am  to  be  delivered  at  Fort  Wayne  by  contract  at  half-past  seveq 
o'clock — special  train. 

At  the  same  station  I  received  a  telegram  from  Mr.  Andrews, 
the  superintendent,  asking  me  how  I  liked  the  caboose.  I  re- 
plied: 

The  springs  of  the  caboose  are  softer  than  down;  I  am  as 
happy  as  a  clam  at  high  water;  I  am  being  carried  toward 
Fort  Wayne  in  a  style  never  surpassed  by  Cassar's  triumphal 
march  into  Rome.  Hurrah  for  the  Toledo  and  Wabash  Rail- 
way ! 

At  the  invitation  of  the  engineer  I  took  a  ride  of  twenty  miles 
upon  the  locomotive.  It  fairly  made  my  head  swim.  I  could 
not  reconcile  my  mind  to  the  idea  that  there  was  no  danger; 
and  intimating  to  the  engineer  that  it  would  be  a  relief  to  get 
where  I  could  not  see  ahead,  I  was  permitted  to  crawl  back 
again  to  the  caboose.    - 

I  reached  Fort  Wayne  in  ample  time  for  the  lecture;  and  as 
the  committee  had  discreetly  kept  to  themselves  the  fact  of  my 
non-arrival  by  the  regular  train,  probably  not  a  dozen  persons 
were  aware  of  the  trouble  I  had  taken  to  fulfill  my  engagement 
till,  in  the  course  of  my  lecture,  under  the  head  of  "  persever- 
ance," I  recounted  my  day's  adventures  as  an  illustration  of  ex- 
ercising that  quality  when  real  necessity  demanded.  The  Fort 
Wayne  papers  of  the  next  day  published  accounts  of  "  Barnum 
on  a  Locomotive,"  and  "A  Journey  in  a  Caboose;"  and  as  I  al- 
ways had  an  eye  to  advertising,  these  articles  were  sent  marked 
to  newspapers  in  towns  and  cities  where  I  was  to  lecture,  and 
of  course  were  copied,  thus  producing  the  desired  effects,  first, 
of  informing  the  public  that  the  "  showman  "  was  coming,  and 
next,  assuring  the  lecture  committee  that  Barnum  would  be 
punctually  on  hand  as  advertised,  unless  prevented  by  "  circum- 
stances over  which  he  had  no  control." 
48 


754  travel  and  adventure. 

Rathbi^  (sox. 


BY  O.  p.  FITZGERALD,  D.D. 


Father  Cox  was  a  ph^-sical  and  intellectual  phenomenon.  He 
was  of  immense  girth,  weighing  more  than  three  hundred 
pounds.  His  face  was  ruddy  and  almost  as  smooth  as  that  of  a 
child,  his  hair  snow-white  and  as  fine  as  floss-silk,  his  eyes  a 
deep  blue,  his  features  small.  His  great  size,  and  the  contrast 
between  the  infantile  freshness  of  his  skin  and  white  hair,  made 
him  a  notable  man  in  the  largest  crowd. 

He  was  converted,  and  joined  the  Methodist  Church  after  he 
had  passed  his  fiftieth  year.  He  had  been,  as  he  himself 
phrased  it,  the  keeper  of  a  "  doggery,"  and  was  no  doubt  a 
rough  customer.  Reaching  California  by  way  of  Texas,  he  at 
once  began  to  preach.  His  style  took  with  the  Californians; 
great  crowds  flocked  to  hear  him,  and  mai-velous  effects  were 
produced.  He  was  a  fine  judge  of  human  nature,  and  knew 
the  direct  way  to  the  popular  heart.  Under  his  preaching  men 
wept,  prayed,  repented,  believed,  and  flocked  into  the  Church 
by  scores  and  hundreds. 

Father  Cox  was  in  his  glory  at  a  camp-meeting.  To  his  gift 
of  exhortation  was  added  that  of  song.  He  had  a  voice  like  a 
flute  in  its  softness  and  purity  of  tone,  and  his  solos  before  and 
after  preaching  melted  and  broke  the  hard  heart  of  many  a  wild 
and  reckless  Californian. 

His  sagacity  and  knowledge  of  human  nature  were  exhibited 
at  one  of  his  camp-meetings  held  at  Gilroy,  in  Santa  Clara 
County.  There  was  a  great  crowd  and  a  great  religious  excite- 
ment. Father  Cox  riding  its  topmost  wave,  the  general  of  the 
army  of  Israel.  Seated  in  the  preacher's  stand,  he  was  leading 
in  one  of  the  spirited  lyrics  suited  to  the  occasion,  when  a  young 
man  approached  him  and  said: 
iJ»  "  Father  Cox,  there's  a  friend  of  mine  out  here  who  wants 
you  to  come  and  pray  for  him." 

"Where  is  he?" 

"Just  out  there  on  the  edge  of  the  crowd,"  answered  the 
young  fellow. 

Father  Cox  followed  him  to  the  outskirts  of  the  congrega- 
tion, where  he  found  a  group  of  rough-looking  fellows  standing 


FATHER  COX.  765 

around,  with  their  leggings  and  huge  Spanish  spurs,  in  the  cen- 
ter of  which  a  man  was  seen  kneeling,  with  his  face  buried  be- 
tween his  hands. 

"There  he  is,"  said  the  guide. 

"  Is  he  a  friend  of  yours,  gentlemen? "  asked  Father  Cox,  turn- 
ing to  the  expectant  group. 

"Yes,"  answered  one  of  them. 

"And  you  want  me  to  pray  for  him,  do  you?"  he  continued. 

"We  do,"  was  the  answer. 

"All  right — all  of  you  kneel  down,  and  Til  pray  for  him.'* 

They  k)oked  at  one  another  in  confusion,  and  then  one  by  one 
they  sheepishly  kneeled  until  all  were  down. 

Father  Cox  then  kneeled  beside  the  "  mourner,"  and  prayed 
as  follows: 

"O  Lord,  thou  knowest  all  things.  Thou  knowest  whether 
this  man  is  a  sincere  penitent  or  not.  If  he  is  sincerely  sorry 
for  his  sins,  and  is  bowing  before  Thee  with  a  broken  heart 
and  a  contrite  spirit,  have  mercy  upon  him,  hear  his  prayer, 
pardon  his  transgressions,  give  him  Thy  peace,  and  make  him 
Thy  child.  But,  O  Lord,  if  he  is  not  in  earnest,  if  he  is  here  as 
an  emissary  of  Satan,  to  make  mockery  of  sacred  things,  and 
to  hinder  Thy  work,  kill  him — kill  him,  Lord." 

At  this  point  the  "mourner"  became  frightened,  and  began 
to  crawl.  Father  Cox  following  him  on  his  knees,  and  continu- 
ing his  prayer.  The  terror-stricken  sinner  could  stand  it  no 
longer,  but  sprang  to  his  feet  and  bounded  away  at  full  speed, 
leaving  Father  Cox  master  of  the  field,  while  the  kneeling 
roughs  rose  and  sneaked  off  abashed  and  discomfited. 

The  sequel  to  this  incident  should  be  given.  The  mock  pen- 
itent was  taken  into  the  Church  by  Father  Cox  soon  after.  He 
left  the  camp-ground  in  a  state  of  great  alarm  on  account  of  his 
sacrilegious  frolic. 

"  When  the  old  man  put  his  hand  on  me  as  I  kneeled  there 
in  wicked  sport,  and  prayed  as  he  did,  it  seemed  to  me  that  I 
felt  hot  flashes  from  hell  rise  in  my  face,"  said  he;  "right  there 
I  became  a  true  penitent." 

The  man  thus  strangely  converted  became  a  faithful  soldier 
of  the  cross. 

At  a  camp-meeting  near  the  town  of  Sonoma,  in  1858,  Father 
Cox,  who  was  preacher  in  charge  of  that  circuit,  rose  to  exhort 


756  TRAVEL  AND  ADVENTURE. 

after  the  venerable  Judge  Shattuck  had  preached  one  of  his 
strong,  earnest  sermons.  The  meeting  had  been  going  on  sev- 
eral days,  and  the  Sonoma  sinners  had  hithei'to  resisted  all  ap- 
peals and  persuasions.  The  crowd  vv^as  great,  and  every  eye 
was  fixed  upon  the  old  man  as  he  began  his  exhortation. 

"Boys,"  he  began,  in  a  familiar,  kindly  way,  "boys,  you  are 
treating  me  badly.  I  have  been  with  you  all  the  year,  and  you 
have  always  had  a  kind  word  and  a  generous  hand  for  the  old 
man.  I  love  you,  and  I  love  3-our  immortal  souls.  I  have  en- 
treated you  to  turn  away  from  your  sins,  to  repent,  and  come  to 
Christ  and  be  saved.  I  have  preached  to  you,  I  have  prayed 
for  you,  I  have  wept  over  you.  You  harden  your  hearts,  and 
stiffen  your  necks,  and  will  not  yield.  You  will  be  lost!  You 
will  go  to  hell!  In  the  judgment-day  you  will  be  left  without 
excuse.  And  boys,"  he  continued,  his  mighty  chest  heaving, 
his  voice  quivering,  and  the  tears  running  down  his  cheeks, 
"boys,  I  will  have  to  be  a  witness  against  you.  I  shall  have  to 
testify  that  I  warned,  persuaded,  and  entreated  you  in  vain.  I 
shall  have  to  testify  of  the  proceedings  of  this  Sabbath-nighty 
and  tell  how  you  turned  a  deaf  ear  to  the  call  of  your  Saviour. 
I  shall  have  to  hear  your  sentence  of  condemnation,  and  see  you 
driven  down  to  hell.  My  God!  the  thought  is  dreadful!  Spare 
me  this  agony!  Don't,  O  don't  force  this  upon  me!  Don't 
compel  the  old  man  to  be  a  witness  against  you  in  that  awful 
day!  Rather,"  he  continued,  "hear  my  voice  of  invitation  to- 
night, and  come  to  Christ,  so  that  instead  of  being  a  witness 
against  you  in  that  day,  I  may  be  able  to  present  you  as  my 
spiritual  children,  and  say,  Lord  Jesus,  here  is  the  old  man  and 
his  Sonoma  children,  all  saved,  and  all  ready  to  join  together  in 
a  glad  hallelujah  to  the  Lamb  that  was  slain ! " 

It  was  overwhelming.  The  pathos  and  power  of  the  speaker 
were  indescribable.  There  was  a  "break-down"  all  over  the 
vast  congregation,  and  a  rush  of  penitents  to  the  altar,  as  one 
of  the  stirring  camp-meeting  choruses  pealed  forth  from  the 
full  hearts  of  the  faithful. 

Father  Cox's  ready  wit  was  equal  to  any  occasion.  At  a 
camp-meeting  in  the  Bodega  Hills,  in  "opening  the  doors  of 
the  Church,"  he  said: 

"Many  souls  have  been  converted,  and  now  I  want  them  all 
to  join  the  Church.     When  I  was  a  boy  I  learned  that  it  was 


FATHER  COX.  757 

best  to  string  my  fish  as  I  caught  them,  lest  they  should  flutter 
back  into  the  water.  I  want  to  string  my  fish — that  is,  take 
all  the  young  converts  into  the  Church,  and  put  them  to  work 
for  Christ,  lest  they  go  back  into  the  world" — 

"You  can't  catch  m«/"  loudly  interrupted  a  rowdy ish-looking 
•fellow  who  sat  on  a  slab  near  the  rostrum. 

"I  am  not  fishing  for  ^ar/"  retorted  Father  Cox,  casting  a 
<:ontemptuous  glance  at  the  felloAv,  and  then  went  on  with  his 
work. 

The  gar-fish  is  the  abomination  of  all  true  fishermen — hard 
to  catch,  coarse -flavored,  bony,  and  nearly  worthless  when 
caught.  The  vulgar  fellow  became  the  butt  of  the  camp-ground, 
and  soon  mounted  his  mustang  and  galloped  off",  amid  the  deris- 
ion even  of  his  own  sort. 

Father  Cox  had  a  naturally  hot  temper,  which  sometimes 
flamed  forth  in  a  way  that  was  startling.  It  would  have  been 
a  bold  man  who  would  have  tested  his  physical  prowess  in  a 
combat.  Beside  him  an  ordinary-sized  person  looked  like  a 
pigmy.  Near  San  Juan,  in  Monterey  County,  he  had  occasion 
to  cross  a  swollen  stream  by  means  of  the  water-fence  above 
the  ford.  The  fence  was  flimsy,  and  Father  Cox  was  heavy. 
The  undertaking  was  not  an  easy  one  at  best,  and*Father  Cox's 
difficulty  and  annoyance  were  enhanced  by  the  ungenerous  and 
violent  abuse  and  curses  of  an  infidel  blacksmith  on  the  oppo- 
site side  of  the  stream,  who  had  worked  himself  into  a  rage 
because  the  immense  weight  of  the  old  man  had  broken  a  rail 
or  two  of  the  fence.  The  situation  was  too  critical  for  reply, 
as  the  mammoth  preacher  Cox  "cooned"  his  way  cautiously 
and  painfully  across  the  rickety  bridge,  at  the  imminent  risk  ev- 
erf  moment  of  tumbling  headlong  into  the  roaring  torrent  be- 
low. Meanwhile  the  wicked  and  angry  blacksmith  kept  up  a 
volley  of  oaths  and  insulting  epithets.  The  old  Adam  was 
waking  up  in  the  old  preacher.  By  the  time  he  had  reached 
the  shore  he  was  thoroughly  mad,  and  rushing  forward,  he 
grasped  his  persecutor  and  shook  him  until  his  breath  was 
nearly  shaken  out  of  him,  saying: 

"O  you  foul-mouthed  villain!  If  it  were  not  for  the  fear  of 
my  God  I  would  beat  you  into  a  jelly!" 

The  blacksmith,  a  stalwart  fellow,  was  astonished;  and  when 
Father  Cox  let  him  go  he  had  a  new  vievv^  of  the  Church  mili- 


758  TRAVEL  AND  ADVENTURE. 

tant.  This  scene  was  witnessed  by  a  number  of  by-standers, 
who  did  not  fail  to  report  it,  and  it  made  the  old  preacher  a  hero 
with  the  rough  fellows  of  San  Juan,  who  thencefoi-ward  flocked 
to  hear  his  preaching  as  they  did  to  hear  nobody  else. 

The  image  of  Father  Cox  that  is  most  vivid  to  my  mind  as  I 
close  this  unpretentious  sketch,  is  that  which  he  presented  as- 
he  stood  in  the  pulpit  at  Stockton  one  night  during  the  Confer- 
ence session,  and  sang,  "I  am  going  home  to  die  no  more,"  his 
ruddy  face  aglow,  his  blue  eyes  swimming  in  tears,  his  white 
hair  glistening  in  the  lamp-light.  He  sleeps  on  Bodega  Hills, 
amid  the  oaks  and  madronas,  whose  branches  wave  in  the 
breezes  of  the  blue  Pacific.  He  has  gone  home  to  die  no 
more. 

^    I^BMAI^I^ABLB   flDYBNJTUl^B. 

A  mountain-climber,  T.  G.  Thompson,  describes  in  a  letter  to 
the  London  Times  a  remarkable  adventure  in  the  Alps.  One  day 
he  missed  his  way  on  the  Rothorn,  and  climbed  up  to  a  point  on 
the  rocks  from  which  he  dared  not  attempt  to  descend — that  is  to 
say,  he  shrank  for  more  than  five  days  from  making  the  at- 
tempt, and  submited  to  the  agonies  of  starvation  for  that  period. 
"I  drank  water  at  a  brook,"  he  writes,  "on  Monday  about  3 
P.M.,  and  again  about  sunset  on  Saturday.  In  the  interval  I  had 
only  the  rain-water  I  could  collect  with  my  umbrella  and  my  hat. 
I  had  nothing  of  any  kind  to  eat,  and  only  earth  to  suck.  That 
delicious  air  was  food  to  me."  Yet  during  all  this  time  Mr. 
Thompson  retained  composure  enough  to  "  write  to  his  wife  two 
or  three  times  a  day,  telling  her  how  he  fared  and  how  he  felt;  " 
and  he  finished  the  story  after  his  escape,  which,  singularly 
enough,  he  achieved  virtually  without  assistance.  "  Ulrich 
Gertsch  found  me  by  his  house,  tottering  down  in  the  dark  to 
the  unfenced  plank  bridge  of  the  Alpbach,  about  an  hour's, 
w^alk  from  the  Grindelwald."  By  this  man  he  was  taken  in 
and  given  food,  and  was  helped  back  the  same  night  to  his 
hotel. 

The  sand  of  the  Sahara  desert  is  sometimes  heated  to  a  tem- 
perature of  200  degrees  Fahrenheit  by  the  vertical  rays  of  the 
sun.  This  gives  rise  to  a  scorching  wind — the  dreaded  simoom 
— which  is  rendered  still  more  terrible  by  the  burning  particles 
of  sand  it  carries  alonsf. 


TN  BRITTANY.  769 

In    Bl^IipiPANY. 

Crack!  crack!  goes  the  conductor's  whip,  a  volley  of  strange, 
guttural  sounds  is  leveled  at  the  horses,  and  our  lumbering  dil- 
igence, at  a  somewhat  brisker  rate  than  usual,  rattles  over  the 
paving-stones,  and  wc  arc  in  a  Hreton  town.  The  houses  arc 
poor  and  mean,  half  mud,  half  wood,  witli  quaint  carved  gables. 
Mingled  with  these  squalid  erections  of  the  present  time  wc 
find  bits  of  the  massive  stone  architecture  of  a  former  age; 
here  a  Gothic  turret,  there  a  machicolatcd  wall,  and  perhaps  an 
occasional  fragment  of  Roman  masonry.  There  is  no  lack  of 
population;  the  children,  ragged,  unkempt  little  mortals,  stop 
squalling  or  quarreling  to  look  at  our  cumbersome  vehicle,  and 
to  beg  for  sous.  Women  in  picturesque  dark  dresses  and  caps 
are  seated  at  their  spinning  before  the  doors  chanting  an  old 
ballad  to  the  hum  of  the  wheel. 

The  horses  are  changed  again,  the  bells  on  their  collars  jingle 
merrily,  and  we  are  off,  leaving  human  habitations  behind  us. 
The  road  is  excellent,  as  are  all  in  France;  but  what  a  wild, 
desolate,  bleak  country  it  is!  You  may  traverse  several  leagues 
with  scarce  any  trace  of  cultivation  or  of  man.  As  far  as  eye 
can  reach  there  are  only  straggling  copses,  woods  here  and 
there  in^he  valley,  and  vast  heaths,  where  rise  the  cromlechs 
and  dolmens,  formerly  the  sanctuaries  of  an  ancient  race,  and  on 
whose  rude  altars  the  Druids  may  have  immolated  human  sac- 
rifices. Carnac  is  the  chief  scene  of  these  wondrous  relics, 
whose  presence  there  is  so  utterly  incomprehensible,  and  to  ac- 
count for  which  many  theories  have  been  started,  without  re- 
moving the  difficulty  of  how  it  was  possible  for  human  labor 
alone  to  transport  those  gigantic  stones  to  their  present  situa- 
tion. These  vast  remains  are  attributed  to  the  agency  of  the 
Druids,  and  it  is  singular  that  this  barren  country,  where  the 
inhabitants  can  with  difficulty  glean  a  scanty  subsistence,  should 
have  been  made  the  chief  stronghold  of  the  Druidical  religion 
in  France. 

There  are  two  large  barrows,  or  mounds,  of  stone  close  to 
the  village  of  Locmariaker,  and  numerous  menhir  (or  long 
stones)  in  all  direction^.  The  most  curious  of  these  Celtic 
monuments  is  to  be  seen  near  Mont  Hellu.  Between  that  spot 
and  the  village  is  the  largest  menhir  that  exists.  It  is  broken,  as 
nearly  all  these  remains  are,  and  now  lies  in  four  fragments. 


760  TRAVEL  AND  ADVENTURE. 

When  complete  it  must  have  measured  nearly  six  feet  in  height 
and  sixty  feet  in  length.  The  spectator  gazes  in  speechless 
wonder  upon  these  relics  of  the  olden  time,  as  he  thinks  of  all 
the  difficulty  of  moving  such  a  mass  in  those  rude  ages  from 
whence  the  placing  of  these  stones  date,  when  no  machinery 
was  known,  and  man's  labor  alone  must  have  accomplished  a 
task  so  gigantic  that  even  in  these  days,  aided  by  all  the  help 
afforded  by  the  light  of  science  and  the  discoveries  of  human 
ingenuity,  it  would  be  looked  upon  as  an  Herculean  undertak- 
ing. Another  curious  fact  in  connection  with  this  singular 
stone  is  the  evenness  of  the  fractures.  What  force  can  have 
been  great  enough  to  have  broken  this  huge  mass  in  halves  (the 
breaking  of  each  half  is  of  a  much  later  date),  and  to  have 
overthrown  it  from  its  original  upright  position?  With  some 
little  difficulty  it  is  possible  to  creep  under  some  of  the  broad 
circular  stones,  resting  on  smaller  ones,  and  to  examine  the  cu- 
rious carvings  on  their  lower  surface.  It  is  difficult  to  affix  any 
meaning  to  them. 

The  collections  of  enormous  stones  at  Carnac,  some  of  them 
twelve  feet  high  and  of  immense  breadth  and  depth,  are  called 
by  the  learned  dracontia  (serpent  temples),  and  are  supposed  to 
have  been  constructed  by  the  worshipers  of  the  serpent  and  the 
sun.  They  are  in  eleven  parallel  rows,  in  one  spot  being  very 
large,  and  then  for  some  distance  decreasing  in  size,  and  again 
increasing  by  degrees.  The  country  all  around  is  wild  and 
picturesque,  and  the  sea  adds  much  to  the  grandeur  of  the 
scene.  The  clouds,  veiling  the  sun  at  times,  throw  some  of  the 
vast  masses  into  shade,  while  others  stand  out  in  a  brilliant 
light;  and  as  the  gorgeous  coloring  of  sunset  comes  on,  nothing 
can  be  more  enchanting  than  the  effect.  Many  of  the  pillars 
glow  like  burnished  gold,  while  others,  again,  receive  the  rose- 
ate hues  shed  around  by  the  departing  luminary. 

The  great  masses  of  stones  are  placed  in  the  midst  of  a  wild 
heath,  and  when  not  illumined  by  the  sun's  glorious  rays  are  of 
a  somber  gray.  Many  of  them  are  covered  with  long,  strag- 
gling moss,  telling  of  the  length  of  time  they  have  occupied 
their  present  situation. 

The  eleven  lines  form  ten  broad  avenues,  with  a  semicircle 
of  stones  at  one  end;  but  there  are  now  numerous  gaps  in  the 
lines,  as  the  peasants  have  availed  themselves  of  the  materials 


IN  BRITTANY.  761 

thus  placed  ready  to  their  hands.  Most  of  the  buildings  in  the 
neighborhood  are  constructed  of  these  stones,  but  even  now  it 
is  calculated  that  there  are  not  less  than  i2,cxx>of  them.  They 
are  all  blocks  of  gray  granite,  which  forms  the  substratum  of 
the  country. 

Of  course  all  kinds  of  curious  legends  abound  in  the  neigh- 
borhood to  account  for  this  wondrous  assemblage.  One  in 
particular  will  show  the  extraordinary  credulity  of  these  people. 
"Saint  Cornelius  being  (in  the  days  when  a  bitter  persecution 
was  raging  against  the  Christians)  hard  pressed  by  an  army  of 
pagans,  fled  to  the  sea-shore;  but  finding  no  boat  to  further  his 
escape,  he  uttered  a  prayer,  which  suddenly  transformed  his 
ruthless  pursuers  into  stones."  The  appearance  at  a  little  dis- 
tance of  the  lines  of  granite  gives  the  idea  of  a  regiment  of 
soldiers,  and  probably  thus  formed  in  the  minds  of  these  super- 
stitious and  ignorant  peasants  the  legend  here  related.  As  to 
the  real  origin  of  these  masses,  the  most  probable  version  seems 
to  be  that  which  states  this  widely-extended  area  to  have  been 
a  burial-place,  formed  on  the  site  of  some  great  battle.  From 
whatever  cause  they  may  have  been  placed  there,  nothing  can 
lessen  the  wonder  almost  amounting  to  awe  which  the  sight  is 
so  calculated  to  inspire. 

The  Bretons  dwell  in  huts,  generally  built  of  mud,  in  which 
men,  children,  cows,  and  pigs  live  huddled  together.  Their 
habits  are  wild  and  savage,  and  they  are  mostly  in  a  condition 
of  great  poverty.  In  some  parts  the  men  wear  dresses  of 
goats'  skins,  and  look  not  unlike  a  number  of  Robinson  Crusoes. 
The  hairy  part  of  this  dress  is  worn  outside.  It  is  made  with 
long  sleeves,  which  fall  nearly  below  the  knees;  their  long, 
shaggy  hair  hangs  loosely  over  their  shoulders.  On  Sundays 
the  men  often  wear  three  or  four  waistcoats,  all  of  different 
lengths,  so  as  to  let  the  various  colors,  red,  white,  and  blue,  with 
which  they  are  bound  appear  one  above  the  other  in  tiers;  a 
muslin  collar;  full-plaited  breeches,  tied  at  the  knees  by  garters 
of  floating  ribbon;  white  woolen  stockings,  with  white  clocks; 
and  light  yellow  shoes.  Many  of  the  women  of  the  poorer 
sort  wear  their  dress  till  it  becomes  so  dirty,  patched,  and 
ragged,  that  you  can  scarcely  trace  what  it  has  originally  been. 
Some  Breton  females,  however,  appear  decently  dressed  in 
their  singular  costume,  and  have  a  florid,  healthy  look. 


762  TRAVEL  AND  ADVENTURE. 

Some  of  the  Breton  towns  may  give  a  good  idea  of  the  towns. 
of  England  two  or  three  centuries  ago.  The  narrow  streets, 
destitute  of  channel  or  causeway,  abound  with  lofty  timbered 
houses  of  curious  build,  rising  tier  above  tier  like  the  stern  of  a 
three-decked  ship,  and  approaching  so  close  at  the  top  as  almost 
to  shut  out  the  light,  with  uncouth  figures  at  the  angles  and 
quaint  devices  on  the  walls.  Some  of  the  shops  are  open  tO' 
the  street  like  booths  in  a  fair.  In  Brittany  now,  as  in  the  Mid- 
dle Ages,  the  market  and  the  fair  are  the  great  events.  Rare 
is  the  buying  and  selling  that  takes  place  at  other  times;  but 
when  the  market  occurs  the  country  people  from  a  distance  of 
twenty  or  thirty  miles  throng  the  road,  bringing  all  imaginable 
articles  to  exchange  for  money,  for  money  is  as  eagerly  sought 
in  Brittany  as  elsewhere.  The  Breton  works  hai'd,  and  with 
difficulty  earns  his  pittance  of  fifteen  sous  (about  sevenpence) 
per  day,  from  which,  by  wonderful  care,  he  contrives  to  reserve 
one  sou,  which  he  carefully  saves. 

fl  Ramble  in  ©oi^io,  5apan. 

What  New  York  is  to  Manhattan,  Tokio  is  to  Yedo.  Yedo 
belonged  to  Old.  Japan,  and  was  the  city  of  the  Tycoon.  Tokia 
represents  New  Japan,  the  Mikado's  residence,  and  the  national 
capital.  Both  cities  are  on  the  same  spot  of  ground,  but  their 
face,  and  form,  and  nature  are  very  different.  The  chief  thing 
unchanged  is  the  human  nature  which  ferments  therein. 

Hon  Cho  Dori,  or  Main  Street,  in  the  heart  of  Tokio,  is  one 
of  the  most  bustling  in  the  capital,  filled  with  lively  shops, 
many  of  them  wholesale.  Fire-proof  store -houses,  built  of  wood 
coated  with  clay — signs  of  wealth  and  long-established  busi- 
iness — are  numerous  in  it. 

I  shall  never  forget  my  first  ramble  through  Hon  Cho  Dori 
in  January,  1871.  Business  was  at  its  height.  The  streets  re- 
sounded with  the  "Hai-ho,  ho-hai"  cry  of  push-cart  men,  draw- 
ing heavy  loads  of  rice  sake,  oil,  soy,  bales  of  cotton,  silk,  tea, 
etc.  Bare-limbed  men,  their  legs  lobster-red  with  cold,  with 
norimonos  (or  palanquins)  on  their  shoulders  and  resting-sticks. 
in  hand,  hurried  along,  anon  stopping  to  change  shoulders. 
Others  were  trudging  on,  staff  in  hand,  their  backs  laden  with 
the  monstrous  masks  of  long-nosed  tengu  imps  for  the  heathen- 
ish dances  in  front  of  the  temples.    Some  bore  portable  shrines, 


A  RAMBLE  IN  rOk'IO,  JAPAN.  763 

saying  prayers  at  houses  for  a  few  iron  cash.  Copper-colored 
cuticle  was  visible  every-whcre,  and  sans- culottism  reigned 
among  the  humbler  sort  of  men,  who  moved  quietly,  with  rice- 
straw  sandals  girded  over  their  ankles.  Scarcely  any  one  had 
on  a  hat.  None  of  the  women  and  girls  wore  bonnets  or  head- 
covering,  their  gracefully-dressed  hair  making  such  trifles  un- 
necessary. 

A  strange  and  most  outlandish  din  was  kept  up  by  the 
swarms  of  pedestrians,  whose  clogs  of  hard  wood  scraped  the 
gravel-paved  streets.  Only  the  yakunid,  or  Government  ofll- 
cials,  wore  hats,  like  round  basket-lids,  tied  over  ears  and  chin. 
Gentlemen  strode  along,  with  their  two  swords  protruding  from 
their  belts  like  drumsticks  from  a  trussed  turkey.  Some  had 
their  hands  outside  in  the  cold,  but  others  carried  them  snugly 
folded  inside  their  bosom.  Not  a  button  could  be  seen  on  any 
one's  clothing,  but  only  girdles  and  fastenings  of  silk.  The 
dictates  of  King  Tonsor  compelled  all  males  to  shave  their  fore- 
head and  midscalp,  on  which  lay  in  state  a  top-knot  waxed  as 
stiff  as  a  gun-hammer.  The  ladies  carried  oil-paper  umbrellas, 
for  the  air  threatened  snow.  Babies  were  carried  on  the  back, 
the  nurse  amusing  them  with  a  stick  and  hollow  balls  blown 
from  wheat-paste. 

Among  the  things  that  strike  a  stranger  is  the  famous  book- 
shop and  circulating  library.  The  proprietor  is  a  native  of  the 
northern  province  of  Numbu,  whose  prince,  or  daimio,  lives  in 
Tokio.  His  crest,  or  armorial  blazonry,  is  a  stork's  head  en- 
folded in  its  own  wings.  The  book-man  is  proud  of  his  master 
and  nativity.  In  the  street,  on  two  raised  platforms  or  boxes, 
are  his  shop-signs,  like  a  square  lantern  of  paper,  which  is 
lighted  up  at  night.  On  it  are  the  daimio's  crest  and  the  char- 
acters signifying  "  Bookstore  and  Libraiy."  As  in  all  Japanese 
shops,  short  curtains  hang  on  loops  from  the  top,  inscribed  with 
the  crest  and  trademark  of  the  proprietor. 

Within  all  is  lively  but  quiet.  On  the  left,  two  men  are  en- 
tering to  return  borrowed  books,  while  the  clerk  is  checking 
off  books  returned,  piling  them  up  as  they  are  marked  off. 
Japanese  books  are  always  stored,  or  lie  in  boxes.  They  are 
not  set  upright  on  their  ends,  as  with  us,  but  laid  on  their  side; 
their  width,  thinness,  and  limp  backs  requiring  this  method. 
The  title  of  a  book  is  not  marked  on  its  back,  but  printed  on  its 


764  TRAVEL  AND  ADVENTURE. 

front  or  side,  or  inked  on  the  edges.  Nearly  all  Japanese  libra- 
ries consist  of  wooden  boxes  full  of  volumes,  kept  in  clay  fire- 
proof houses,  called  "go-downs"  by  foreigners.  The  library  is 
a  fire-jDroof  building,  made  of  heavy  timbers  and  wattle,  thickly 
coated  with  many  layers  of  clay,  and  cased  with  cement.  It 
requires  nearly  a  year  to  build  and  dry  such  a  house.  Inside 
Japanese  houses  the  floor  is  raised  about  two  feet  from  the 
ground,  and  neatly  covered  with  thick,  soft  matting.  See  two 
young  girls  looking  over  (perhaps)  the  last  new  novel.  A  gen- 
tleman is  examining  a  picture,  while  two  more  within  sit  on 
their  knees  absorbed  in  reading.  The  librarian,  himself  a  book- 
worm, is  also  busy.  It  is  customary  to  send  books  to  the  houses 
of  patrons.  Japanese  novels  are  often  interminably  long,  and 
the  fashion  of  making  the  text  cover  as  much  paper  as  possible 
inakes  a  formidable  bundle  of  the  many  volumes  of  a  single 
book.  It  is  not  heavy,  however,  as  the  paper,  though  strong, 
is  very  light.  One  of  the  porters  of  the  library  is  just  starting 
off'  with  a  goodly  package  tied  up  in  dark  ticking  over  his 
shoulder,  he  holding  the  ends  in  front. 

This  was  a  true  picture  of  Yedo  and  Old  Japan  ten  years 
ago,  and  as  I  saw  it  in  1871.  Were  we  to  ramble  up  that  street 
to-day,  with  glorious  white  Fusi  Yama  looming  up  apparently 
at  the  end  of  the  street,  but  in  reality  fifty  miles  oft',  we  should 
iniss  entirely  the  cuticle,  the  norimonos,  the  swords,  and  largely 
the  bare  craniums  of  the  men,  gentlemen's  loose  tunics  and 
trousers,  and  the  mask-carriers.  We  should  also  see  horses  and 
carriages,  high  hats,  boots  and  pantaloons,  coats,  etc.  In  the 
whole  city  of  Yedo  there  was  not  one  brick  or  stone  dwelling. 
There  are  now  in  Tokio  several  hundred  brick  pavements  and 
houses,  shops  filled  with  carpets,  glass  lamps,  petroleum,  cloth, 
clothes,  watches,  and  ten  thousand  "notions"  from  Europe  and 
the  United  States.  Even  seven  years  ago  there  was  not  one 
Christian  Church,  and  hai'dly  a  native  Christian,  in  that  wilder- 
ness of  souls.  Now  there  are  eight  or  ten  churches,  over  fifty 
preaching  places,  and  several  hundred  native  Christians.  Trans- 
lations of  parts  of  the  Bible  circulate  extensively,  and  most  of 
the  book-stores  of  Tokio  contain  Christian  literature,  both  na- 
tive and  translated.  The  day  of  a  full,  complete,  careful,  and 
nearly  perfect  Japanese  Bible  hastens  on — God  speed  it! 

Unfortunately,  however,  witK  this  importation  of  European 


JUOOLERS'  THICKS.  76& 

civilization  there  has  been  a  coincident  advance  in  the  art  of 
destroyinjT  life,  and  an  introduction  of  the  immoralities  and  dis- 
eases of  Europe. 

It  is  doubtful,  indeed,  how  far  Japan  has  really  benefited  by 
the  recent  introduction  of  Western  notions,  always  excepting 
Christianity,  which  it  is  to  be  hoped  Japan,  like  all  other  hea- 
then nations,  will  one  day  accept,  not  in  name  only,  but  in 
spirit  and  power.  The  complaint  is  already  prevalent  that  the 
price  of  every  commodity  has  doubled  since  trade  with  Euro- 
peans was  made  free;  and  the  warlike  armaments  in  which  the 
Japanese  are  indulging  are  likely,  sooner  or  later,  to  lead  them 
into  collision  either  with  some  European  nation  or  with  their 
hereditary  enemies,  the  Chinese. 

^UGGLEI^S'   Sl^IGI^S. 

"When  I  was  younger,"  said  an  amateur  juggler  after  dinner, 
"and  was  traveling  around  the  country  with  the  idea  in  my 
head  that  the  office  of  Americans  was  to  teach  the  world,  as  a 
consequence  I  often  got  left,  as  the  Arabs  say.  On  this  occa- 
sion I  went  ashore  to  spend  the  night  at  a  native  village  four  or 
five  miles  inland,  where  it  was  reported  that  a  famous  juggler 
lived.  We  were  a  jolly  party,  all  besides  myself  being  sailors, 
and  having  a  hard  time  riding  on  the  native  ponies  they  had 
provided  us  with;  but  after  many  capsizes  we  managed  to  reach 
our  destination,  where  we  found  the  fakir,  and  made  up  a  purse 
of  about  $2,  without  which  nothing  could  be  done.  Some  of 
his  tricks  beat  any  thing  I  ever  came  across. 

"  He  was  a  tall,  thin,  olive-hued  fellow,  with  long,  black  hair 
caught  up  behind  and  tied  with  a  string.  He  was  extremely 
reticent,  and  all  through  the  performance  neither  smiled  nor  ut- 
teced  a  word.  The  first  trick  was  to  arrange  our  party  about 
him  in  a  circle  of  about  thirty  feet  in  diameter,  and  we  were  so 
close  together  that  no  one  could  pass  out  without  our  knowing 
it.  To  prevent  such  a  possibility  he  gave  us  a  cord  to  hold. 
This  being  done,  he  and  a  smaller  native,  with  a  bundle  of  wood, 
took  their  places  in  the  center.  The  young  man  arranged  the 
wood  in  a  pile  and  lighted  it,  and  when  it  blazed  up  the  older 
man  seized  him,  threw  him  on  the  flames,  and  held  him  down. 
Immediately  thei"e  arose  a  dense,  suflbcating  smoke,  that  seemed 
a  mixture  of  flesh  and  sandal- wood.     It  rose  about  their  heads. 


766  TBA  VEL  AND  AD  VENTURE. 

and  spread  about  until  it  completely  hid  them,  and  from  it  came 
such  groans  and  cries  that  several  of  the  men  called  out  that 
we  had  better  take  a  hand,  as  the  boy  was  being  murdered. 
But  I  reminded  them  that  it  was  only  a  trick,  no  matter  how 
realistic.  We  waited  perhaps  five  minutes,  when  the  yells  ceased, 
and  the  smoke  gradually  cleared  away,  and  there  stood  the  old 
fakir  alone,  the  young  man  having  to  all  intents  and  purposes 
been  burned.  He  was  scooping  something  from  the  fire — evi- 
dently ashes — into  a  flask,  which  was  handed  to  us  and  passed 
around — the  cremated  remains  of  the  assistant." 

"But,"  interrupted  a  gentleman  at  the  foot  of  the  table, 
"didn't  he  slip  out  in  the  smoke?" 

"There  was  no  place  to  go  to,"  was  the  reply,  "as  we  were 
in  a  clearing,  away  from  trees  or  bushes.  But  the  strangest  part 
is  to  come,"  he  continued.  "After  passing  the  flask  around,  he 
took  it  back,  and  placed  it  in  the  center  of  the  circle,  and  put- 
ting some  wood  under  it,  lighted  it.  Almost  immediately  the 
flask  began  to  grow  before  our  eyes,  the  fire  blazed,  and  a  rich 
odor  of  sandal- wood  floated  about,  and  in  ten  minutes  the  flask 
had  expanded  until  it  was  the  size  of  a  large  keg.  The  fire 
was  then  put  out,  and  we  were  beckoned  to  come  near  and  ex- 
amine. I  touched  it,  and  it  seemed  a  jar  of  earth  made  of  plas- 
ter or  mud;  it  had  a  ringing  sound  as  I  struck  it  with  my  seal- 
ring,  and  to  the  hand  was  hot.  After  looking  it  over,  we  re- 
turned to  our  places.  The  old  fakir  then  took  a  hammer,  waved 
his  hands  in  the  air,  uttered  some  mystic  words,  and  struck  the 
vessel  a  hard  blow  that  broke  it  in  pieces,  when  out  stepped  the 
boy  we  had  seen — or  thought  we  had  seen — cremated,  as  bright 
as  you  please.  I  should  be  glad  to  have  the  trick  solved,  but 
have  never  found  any  one  who  could  explain  it  satisfactorily. 
Some  aver  that  the  old  fakir  concealed  the  young  man  about 
his  own  person;  but  that  was  simply  impossible,  as  I  felt  of  the 
fakir  myself,  and  he  had  nothing  on  but  a  shirt,  open  in  the 
back,  and  a  pair  of  trousers. 

"These  tricks  are  equally  as  remarkable,"  continued  the  story- 
teller, "  as  those  Polo  claims  to  have  witnessed  in  China  years 
ago.  One  of  these  consisted  in  the  conjuror  taking  a  ball  of  wood 
that  had  been  perforated  in  several  places,  and  through  which 
strings  were  passed,  and  hurling  it  into  the  air.  Up  it  went, 
dragging  the  cord  after  it,  and  finally  disappearing.     The  head 


TIOER  ADVENTURE.  767 

man  now  instructed  a  boy  assistant  to  mount,  which  he  did, 
climbing  up  the  cord  until  finally  the  spectators  lost  sight  of 
him,  or  thought  they  did.  The  fakir  now  seemed  to  be  in  dis- 
tress at  losing  him,  and  called  loudly;  then,  as  if  in  rage,  he 
seized  the  rope  and  clambered  up  after  him,  having  a  knife  in 
his  mouth.  In  a  few  moments  a  dismembered  leg,  all  bloody,  fell 
to  the  earth;  then  another,  several  fingers,  and  finally  the  head 
and  trunk.  Finally  the  old  fakir  himself  appeared,  his  clothes 
covered  with  gore,  looking  like  a  butcher. 

"As  soon  as  he  recovered  from  his  evident  exertion  he  went 
through  some  mummery,  and,  collecting  the  dismembered  and 
bleeding  parts,  gave  the  body  a  push,  waved  his  hands  over  it, 
and  seizing  the  body  by  the  hand  jerked  it  to  its  feet,  and  off  it 
walked,  nothing  the  matter  with  it. 

"  In  Bangkok  a  similar  feat  was  witnessed  some  years  ago  by 
Mr.  Ralph  Churchill.  The  juggler  tossed  a  rope-ladder  into  the 
air,  and  sent  goats,  dogs,  cats,  boys,  and  alligators  up  one  after 
another.  All  of  them  appeared  running  toward  him  from  a 
distant  quarter  ten  minutes  later.  These  are  tricks  that  seem 
almost  superhuman,  yet  are  ludicrously  simple  when  known." 

^IGBI^  flDYENiHai^B. 

There  was  ample  evidence  that  one  of  the  much-dreaded 
creatures  had  made  his  lair  not  far  away  from  town.  Our  in- 
formant had  come  hither  with  a  friend  on  a  hunting  excursion, 
and  resolved,  if  possible,  to  secure  the  creature's  hide.  Three 
or  four  days  before  a  woman  had  disappeared  from  the  suburbs, 
and  it  was  resolved  to  take  advantage  of  the  trail  which  was 
made  on  this  occasion  to  track  the  beast  through  the  jungle. 
The  sportsmen,  with  six  native  beaters,  easily  followed  the 
track,  the  animal's  forepaws  evidently  sinking  heavily  into  the 
ground  with  the  weight  he  carried. 

A  full  mile  was  passed  before  the  path  became  so  dense  as  to 
cause  delay,  and  the  track  was  quite  clear.  Here  and  there 
branches  showed  a  lock  of  the  woman's  hair,  where  her  head 
had  come  in  contact  with  some  thorny  bushes  in  passing. 
Once  the  tiger  had  evidently  laid  the  body  down,  and  here  were 
finger-marks  in  the  soil,  showing  that  life  still  existed  in  the 
poor  victim.  The  slight  clothing  she  wore  had  been  found  at 
the  commencement  of  the  trail,  where  the  disturbance  of  the 


768  TRAVEL  AND  ADVENTURE. 

ground  indicated  some  sort  of  a  struggle.  At  the  end  of  the 
second  mile  the  tracks  grew  every  moment  more  distinct,  and 
the  party  moved  w^ith  increased  caution. 

An  experienced  beater  vv^as  now  sent  in  advance  with  only 
his  broad,  unsheathed  knife  for  self-protection.  Stillness  reigned 
for  some  time  as  the  party  thus  advanced.  The  animal  had 
scented  danger,  and,  contrary  to  the  usual  habits  of  these  creat- 
ures on  such  occasions,  instead  of  retreating  further  into  the 
jungle,  he  came  boldly  toward  the  attacking  party.  Had  this 
been  anticipated  greater  caution  would  have  been  observed. 
Suddenly  there  came  a  crushing  sound,  and  a  screain  rang 
through  the  jungle.  The  head -beater  was  borne  to  the  ground 
by  the  whole  weight  of  the  tiger,  wTio  sprang  upon  him.  The 
man  had  stood  at  the  moment  in  a  partial  opening,  so  that  man 
and  beast  were  now  in  full  sight. 

One  of  the  hunters  instantly  leveled  his  rifle,  and  with  delib- 
erate aim  sent  a  ball  through  the  tiger's  brain,  causing  him  to 
straighten  out  at  once,  quite  dead.  The  man  was  stunned  and 
severely  wounded,  but  he  was  not  bitten,  and  was  able  to  strug- 
gle to  his  feet,  pointing  exultingly  to  the  knife,  showing  that 
he  had  buried  the  blade  to  the  hilt  in  the  tiger's  chest,  notwith- 
standing the  suddenness  of  the  attack.  The  natives  generally 
are  poor  hunters,  lacking  courage  and  coolness,  both  of  which 
qualities  this  man  clearly  evinced. 

A  hundred  yards  further  into  the  jungle  from  the  spot  where 
this  struggle  took  place  was  found  the  monster's  lair.  It  was  a 
small  open  space  surrounded  by  a  thick  undergrowth,  whither 
he  had  brought  his  victims,  fully  three  miles  from  the  nearest 
village.  Only  the  bones  of  the  poor  woman  were  found;  what 
the  tiger  had  not  eaten  other  beasts  and  birds  had  consumed. 
Heaps  of  bones  testified  to  the  havoc  the  animal  had  made.  A 
number  of  bangles,  arm-rings,  nose  and  ear  ornaments  were 
picked  up,  such  as  only  women  wear,  showing  that  a  number 
of  his  victims  had  been  of  that  sex. 

The  beater  was  well  enough  to  walk  back  to  the  village  after 
a  short  time,  and  became  quite  a  hero  in  consequence  of  the 
adventure.  The  carcass  was  brought  to  town,  and  proved  to 
be  that  of  a  very  large  and  old  tiger.  The  fact  of  his  coming 
toward  the  hunters,  instead  of  retiring,  as  is  their  habit  when 
pursued,  showed  that  he  was  an  unusually  dangerous  animal. 


TME     iWOlAM     ©APTBVE. 


FOR  "THE  OORNUCOPIA" 


7 TT/?  INDT.A  ^ 


7M 


iltUifH\ 


iimulateti 


ile  the  "burder  wart 


iiisi 


Ins  tamtiy  at  *n 


Tlie 


icver  reached  beyund 
:.  V  .   ,i.ed  thera  as  hU  own. 
!a,  and  she  was  the  idol  of  her 
h   idols,   s{»e   ik;- 


During 


made  few 

«■>'!•.■    in    ; 

•eek  nc: 

-V  quantiiiti.  ui   ^ 

«he  could  cat.'h 

ummer 

,    .  1 ,  ■  .  ■ 

'■■luqui,.-   -i 

count: 

1  can  aftorri 

H  \ 

these  t 

inonll"! 

^'fo    ha;! 

usual, 

turn  ab 

hV 

Si'i 

•ler  ovc 


«it«p«f  when 


HJ^DIIAN     (CAPT 


THE  INDIAN  CAPTIVE.  771 

posite  bank.  Under  cover  of  the  darkness  he  rapidly  pushed 
across  the  country,  halting  the  following  day  to  rest  his  horse 
and  partake  of  food  which  he  had  prepared  in  advance  at  this 
place. 

Miranda  drank  water,  but  ate  no  food.  .  Her  courage  had 
nearly  deserted  her,  and  but  for  her  perfect  health  and  vigorous 
constitution  her  ride  would  have  killed  her.  She  never  spoke 
a  word  to  Brown  Jug,  nor  looked  into  his  face  throughout  the 
day. 

At  night  the  journey  was  resumed,  and  before  morning  they 
reached  a  heavy  belt  of  timber,  where  Brown  Jug  had  provided 
a  shelter,  and  a  nurse  in  the  person  of  an  old  squaw,  to  whose 
care  he  committed  his  captive. 

The  rest  of  our  story  is  quickly  told.  Hopping  Toad,  an  In- 
dian maiden  who  had  long  loved  Brown  Jug,  had  secretly 
watched  him  as  he  made  his  side-hill  hut,  where  Miranda  was 
left,  and  within  a  few  hours  after  his  return  had  seen  the  white 
maiden  whom  he  had  brought,  and  resolved  to  set  her  rival 
free.  Waiting  until  the  old  woman  was  asleep,  she  crept  into 
the  room  and  led  Miranda  out  of  the  timber,  threw  a  blanket 
over  her  shoulders,  helped  her  to  mount  the  very  same  horse 
that  had  brought  her  there  with  Brown  Jug,  and  placing  the 
reins  in  her  hands,  motioned  for  her  to  proceed  on  her  home- 
ward journey. 

By  this  time  Miranda  was  sufficiently  rested  to  be  able  to 
stand  such  a  journey,  and  exerting  all  her  senses,  she  followed, 
by  means  of  the  stars  and  familiar  objects  upon  the  prairie,  the 
same  course  she  had  traveled  before,  and  by  the  close  of  the 
following  day  was  safe  in  her  father's  home. 

The  fire  had  burned  upon  the  opposite  side  of  the  creek, 
crossing  farther  down  than  her  fathers  house,  and  had  not 
reached  their  home.  Her  father  had  roused  the  country  round 
about  in  his  efforts  to  find  his  daughter,  and  her  mother  was  ill 
with  worry  and  excitement.  But  her  return  restored  peace  to 
the  family  and  quietness  to  the  surrounding  country,  whose 
scattered  settlers  had  left  their  regular  employments  to  aid  in 
searching  for  her.  It  had  been  feared  that  she  was  burned  up 
in  the  fire,  few  thinking  it  possible  that  she  could  have  been 
molested  by  Indians,  none  of  whom  were  known  to  be  within 
many  miles  of  the  place. 


772  TRAVEL  AND  ADVENTURE. 

fl    I^BI^ILOUS   fJlDE. 


BY  C.  F.  DAVIS. 


In  many  years  of  travel  in  the  West  I  have,  of  course^  had 
many  unpleasant  experiences — have  many  times  been  in  real  or 
imaginary  danger;  but  I  do  not  remember  ever  feeling  quite  so 
uncomfortable — I  may  say,  to  be  candid,  frightened — as  I  did 
one  night,  in  the  winter  of  '79,  in  the  northern  part  of  Cali- 
fornia. 

I  was  located  at  a  place  called  Big  Flat,  in  Del  Norte  County, 
in  charge  of  an  auriferous  gravel-mine,  the  nearest  town  being 
Crescent  City  (for  many  years  the  post  which  supplied  North- 
ern California  and  Oregon),  thirty-four  miles  distant. 

The  rainy  season  in  Northern  California  lasts  from  about  the 
middle  of  November  to  the  first  of  May,  during  which  time  the 
narrow  trail  between  Crescent  City  and  "the  Flat"  was  well- 
nigh  impassable — crossing  as  it  did  a  broad  stream,  known  as 
Smith  River,  and  running  through  an  exceedingly  wild  and 
mountainous  country,  inhabited  principally  by  Digger  Indians 
and  wild  animals,  or  rather — to  name  them  in  the  order  of  their 
apparent  usefulness — wild  animals  and  Digger  Indians. 

It  was  with  regret,  therefore — notwithstanding  the  extreme 
monotony  of  life  at  the  mine — that  I  found,  early  in  December, 
I  should  be  obliged  to  visit  Crescent  City  on  business.  I 
reached  the  town  in  safety,  transacted  my  business,  and  on  the 
following  day,  about  eleven  o'clock,  set  out  on  my  return  to  the 
mine. 

It  was  raining  hard  when  I  left  town — I  have  known  it  in 
that  section  to  rain  every  day  for  six  weeks — but  I  was  well- 
mounted  on  a  stout  American  horse,  and  hoped  to  be  able  to 
reach  camp  by  nightfall. 

Upon  reaching  Smith  River,  twelve  miles  from  town,  I  found 
to  my  vexation  that  the  heavy  rains  had  so  swollen  it  that  it 
would  be  impossible  for  me  to  ford  it  at  the  usual  place,  and 
the  only  thing  for  me  to  do  was  to  go  up  the  river  about  twelve 
miles,  and  attempt  a  crossing  at  what  was  called  George's 
Ranch. 

John  George,  the  owner  of  the  ranch,  was  perhaps  the  most 
notorious  man  in  the  entire  county,  and  there  were  many  very 


A  PERILOUS  BIDE.  773 

dark  rumors  afloat  concerning  him.  It  was  generally  believed 
that  he  had  committed  several  crimes,  but  he  had  always  man- 
aged in  some  way  to  escape  detection. 

The  previous  winter  a  man,  known  to  have  considerable 
money  in  his  possession,  started  for  French  Mountain,  not  far 
from  George's  cabin,  to  visit  some  prospectors  who  were  wash- 
ing for  gold  in  one  of  the  gulches,  and  was  never  heard  from 
again. 

Some  time  afterward  the  trunk  of  a  man's  body,  with  skull 
attached,  was  found  at  the  head  of  one  of  the  gulches.  Shortly 
afterward  the  man's  horse  was  seen  running  with  George's  herd, 
and  at  the  slight  investigation  which  followed,  George  stated 
that  the  horse  had  strayed  into  his  herd,  from  where  he  knew 
not;  and,  though  there  was  not  a  man  in  the  county  but  what 
firmly  believed  that  George  had  waylaid  the  man,  still  the  evi- 
dence against  him  was  pureJy  circumstantial,  and  nothing  was 
done  about  it. 

I  had  met  him  on  several  occasions  in  Crescent  City — where 
he  always  went  with  a  huge  pistol  strapped  to  his  hip — but,  as 
may  perhaps  be  imagined,  he  was  not  the  kind  of  man  I  cared 
to  meet  a  long  distance  from  any  habitation,  and  I  would  gladly 
have  gone  many  miles  out  of  my  way  could  I  have  forded  the 
river  at  any  other  place. 

The  first  thing  I  did  Iipon  concluding  to  cross  at  George's 
ranch  was  to  tie  up  my  gold  very  securely,  so  that  it  would 
make  no  noise,  and  deposit  it  in  my  left  trousers'  pocket,  leav- 
ing in  the  right-hand  pocket  about  five  dollars  in  silver.  After 
doing  so  I  pushed  on  as  rapidly  as  possible,  hoping  to  make  the 
crossing  and  continue  my  journey  before  night  set  in. 

The  trail  was  in  such  a  condition,  however,  that  I  was 
obliged  to  walk  my  horse  all  the  way,  and  it  was  late  in  the 
afternoon  before  I  reached  a  point  on  the  river  opposite  George's 
cabin.  Hallooing  at  the  top  of  my  voice — the  river  at  this 
point  was  about  two  hundred  feet  wide — I  soon  saw  George 
step  out  of  his  cabin  in  his  shirt-sleeves,  not  seeming  to  mind 

the  rain  that  was  still  falling.     " ,  be  thet  you? "  he  shouted, 

after  a  moment's  scrutiny,  and  upon  my  answering  that  it  cer- 
tainly was,  and  that  I  wanted  to  get  across,  he  finally,  after 
some  grumbling,  shouted  that  he  would  come  over  for  me. 

His  cabin,  built  of  mud  and  stones,  was  about  midway  be- 


774  TRAVEL  AND  ADVENTURE. 

tween  two  series  of  rapids — some  five  hundred  feet  apart — and 
to  make  the  passage  he  was  obliged  to  take  a  V-shaped  course, 
paddling  his  canoe  as  close  as  possible  to  the  upper  rapids,  and 
then  shooting  obliquely  down-stream  to  where  I  was  standing. 

While  he  was  coming  over  I  unsaddled  my  horse,  and  when 
he  succeeded  in  making  the  landing,  I  put  my  saddle,  bridle, 
saddle-bags,  and  blankets  into  the  canoe  and  got  in  myself, 
holding  my  horse  by  means  of  a  short  halter  fastened  around 
,his  nose. 

George  then  pushed  out  into  the  stream,  and  a  few  feet  from 
shore  the  horse  was  compelled  to  swim.  George  was  a*  very 
powerful  man,  but  it  required  all  his  strength  and  skill  to  make 
the  crossing,  and  it  was  with  a  feeling  of  great  relief  that  I  put 
foot  on  the  opposite  bank. 

During  the  passage  I  had  a  better  opportunity  than  I  had 
ever  had  before  of  examining  the  desperado,  and  a  more  villain- 
ous-looking being  it  was  never  my  fortune,  or  rather  misfortune, 
to  see. 

He  was  perhaps  fifty  years  of  age,  tall  and  ungainly,  with  an 
extremely  low  forehead,  heavy  mustache,  and  grizzly  beard, 
and  his  eyes  were  without  exception  the  wildest  and  most  rest- 
less I  have  ever  seeh. 

"  Yerthe  fust  man  I  hev  seen  fur  more  nor  a  month,"  he  said, 
ushering  me  into  his  cabin.  "  Set  down  an'  hev  a  bite,  Yer'll 
stop  overnight,  won't  yer?" 

I  did  not  at  once  reply,  though  I  was  sti^ongly  tempted  to 
take  the  chances  of  remaining  there,  for  it  was  already  dusk, 
my  horse  w^as  winded,  the  rain  was  still  falling  in  torrents,  and 
the  trail  from  there  to  the  mine  was  steep  and  muddy. 

While  wejghing  the  matter  George  busied  himself  in  getting 
supper.  While  he  was  out  getting  wood  I  took  a  look  around 
the  room.  It  was  extremely  dirty,  and  contained  a  small  bed 
(on  which  were  several  dirty  gray  blankets),  a  couple  of  rick- 
ety stools  and  a  table. 

Over  the  fireplace  were  two  rifles,  the  pistol,  about  two  feet 
in  length,  which  he  always  carried  when  in  town,  and — what 
interested  me  most — a  very  handsome  leather  belt,  adapted  for 
carrying  both  gold-dust  and  cartridges — far  handsomer  than 
such  a  man  as  George  would  be  apt  to  buy. 

This  brought  to  my  mind  the  mysterious  disappearance  of  the 


A  PERILOUS  RIDE.  775 

man  on  French  MountA'm,  and  I  mentally  resolved  to  insist  up- 
on  continuing  my  journey  after  supper. 

Supper,  consisting  of  cracked  wheat  stewed  with  molasses, 
was  soon  ready,  and  George  pulled  his  stool  up  to  the  table  and 
told  me  to  do  likewise. 

Imagine  my  feelings  when,  after  eating  a  few  moments  in  si- 
lence, he  abruptly  turned  to  me  and  said,  with  his  wild  eyes  full 
upon  me,  "  Have  yer  got  any  money  about  yer? " 

My  heart  sank  within  me. 

"Yes,"  I  replied,  jingling  the  silver  in  my  pocket.  "I  have 
four  or  five  dollars.     Do  you  want  it?" 

"Humph!"  he  replied,  looking  at  me  very  sharply.  "Kind- 
er thought  as  how  I'd  ask  ye,  fur,  d'yer  know,  thar's  men  'round 
these  air  mountains  what  'ud  waylay  a  man  fur  three  dollars. 
Thar's  little  risk  here,  yer  know."  (We  were  fourteen  miles 
from  any  habitation.)  "Drop  a  carcass  inter  the  gulches,  an' 
nobody  won't  see  it,  like  enough,  fur  three  or  four  year." 

As  may  perhaps  be  surmised,  this  remark  was  hardly  calcu- 
lated to  allay  my  fears. 

"  By  ther  way,"  he  said  in  a  few  moments,  "  I  wish  yer'd  write 
a  letter  ter  my  boy  fur  me — I  ain't  much  uv  a  hand  fur  letter- 
writin'." 

"Certainly,"  I  said,  glad  to  oblige  him;  and  he  took  from  the 
table-drawer  the  necessary  materials,  and  I  proceeded  to  write, 
at  his  dictation,  a  short  letter.  When  it  was  finished  I  asked 
how  I  should  address  the  envelope. 

"  Wall,"  he  said,  "  they  don't  hev  no  names  up  thar;  they's 
called  numbers." 

"Numbers?"  I  asked  in  astonishment,  "what  do  you 
mean?" 

"Wall,  yer  see,"  he  replied,  "Josh  got  ter  foolin'  with  ther 
neighbors'  cattle,  an'  they  happened  ter  drop  onter  it  one  day, 
an'  jugged  him.  Reckon  as  how  it  won't  do  him  no  harm,  no- 
how. 'Dress  the  letter  ter  number  127,  Oregon  Penitenshery, 
Portland,  Oregon." 

Saying  this,  he  relapsed  into  silencp  for  a  few  moments. 

Imagine,  reader,  if  you  can,  how  I  felt  as  he  presently  pro- 
ceeded to  give  the  full  particulars  of  a  most  cold-blooded  mur- 
der of  an  inoffensive  Indian  that  he  committed.  The  heartless- 
ness  with  which  he  related  the  most  crafty  and  cruel  incidents 


776  TRAVEL  AND  ADVENTURE. 

of  this  crime  led  me  to  see  what  I  might  expect  should  it  be 
discovered  that  I  had  money. 

"It  was  very  daring,  wasn't  it?"  I  said,  with  what  I  imagine 
was  an  extremely  ghastly  look;  and,  rising  very  carefully,  so 
that  the  gold  in  my  pocket  would  not  jingle,  I  said  that  I  really 
must  go,  as  I  had  business  to  attend  to  as  early  as  possible  in 
the  morning. 

So,  in  spite  of  his  urgent  invitation  to  remain,  I  saddled  my 
horse  and  took  my  departure,  feeling  that  the  dangers  of  the 
road  were  nothing  as  compared  to  the  danger  of  remaining  and 
have  George  discover  that  I  had  so  much  money  with  me. 

It  was  nearly  dark  when  I  started;  the  rain  was  still  coming 
down  in  torrents,  and  my  faithful  horse,  as  I  have  said,  was  al- 
most used  up — indeed,  I  found  it  difficult  to  induce  him  to  move 
at  all.  Not  a  very  pleasant  plight  to  be  in,  certainly;  and,  to 
make  matters  still  worse,  I  found,  after  riding  perhaps  a  couple 
of  miles  up  the  mountain  side,  that  my  horse  had,  in  the  dark- 
ness, wandered  from  the  trail. 

Dismounting,  I  floundered  about  in  the  deep  mud  for  some 
time  searching  /or  the  trail,  but  concluded  finally  that  I  should 
have  to  give  it  up  and  remain  where  I  was  until  morning. 

Unsaddling  my  horse  (I  was  then  on  the  summit  of  a  bleak 
mountain  spur),  I  fastened  him  to  a  tree,  and  covering  myself 
as  well  as  possible  with  my  saddle-blanket,  and  resting  my  head 
on  my  saddle,  I  remained  there,  soaked  through  to  the  skin,  un- 
til day  broke.  I  arose  with  some  difficulty — every  joint  aching 
from  exposure — saddled  my  horse,  found  my  trail,  and  reached 
the  mine  at  about  ten  o'clock. 

I  have  never  ceased  to  congratulate  myself  on  escaping  as  I 
did,  for  I  firmly  believe — as  did  others  to  whom  I  told  the  story 
— that  George  would  probably  have  made  away  with  me  had  he 
chanced  to  discover  that  I  had  so  much  money  about  me. 

©HE  CQoNi^BYS  OP  India. 

An  Indian  missionary  gives  the  following  interesting  account 
of  the  monkeys  of  India-, 

I  have  spent  many  an  hour  in  taking  note  of  the  monkey's 
sagacity,  and  in  watching  his  propensity  for  frolic  and  fun.  In 
the  morning  of  an  Indian  cold  season  the  monkeys  are  always 
very  listless,  but  as  soon  as  they  are  warmed  with  the  rays  of 


THE  MONKEYS  OF  INDIA.  777 

the  sun  they  are  as  playful  as  kittens.  They  will  jump  over 
each  other's  backs,  slap  each  other's  faces,  pull  each  other's  tails, 
and  even  malte  pretense  to  steal  each  other's  babies. 

The  gray  and  the  browrn  species  are  found  nearly  all  over  the 
continent  of  India;  the  former  is  more  daring  and  destructive, 
and  the  latter  more  mischievous  and  cunning.  They  botl)  form 
themselves  into  separate  packs,  or  tribes,  and  rarely  go  beyond 
a  certain  boundary.  They  seldom  migrate,  except  it  be  for  food 
or  water  in  times  of  drought  and  scarcity.  This  wild  citizen- 
ship seems  to  be  respected,  for  they  very  rarely  trespass  on 
each  other's  ground.  Each  tribe  has  a  leader,  or  king,  which 
can  easily  be  recognized,  and  from  the  manner  in  which  he 
conducts  himself  he  is  evidently  aware  of  the  dignity  of  his 
position. 

I  have  many  times  noticed  how  few  males  there  are  in  the 
gray,  or  Honoomau  tribe,  and  have  been  more  than  once  as- 
sured by  the  natives  that  they  are  destroyed  soon  after  birth. 
Like  nearly  all  other  wild  animals,  they  have  a  keen  sense  of 
danger,  and  when  a  certain  whoop  is  given,  however  scattered 
or  tempted  to  stay,  in  a  few  moments  they  are  hidden  on  the 
tops  of  the  highest  trees  in  the  locality.  They  have  the  bump 
of  destructiveness  largely  developed,  and  it  is  no  small  calamity 
when  a  tribe  locates  itself  near  a  village.  Scarcely  any  thing 
in  the  shape  of  fruit  or  grain  comes  amiss  to  them,  and  when 
neither  are  to  be  had,  in  the  hottest  part  of  the  year,  they  eat 
the  stems  of  the  young  leaves.  When  they  commence  upon  a 
field  of  lentils,  pulse,  or  peas,  they  always  pluck  up  the  plant 
by  the  root,  pull  off  one  pod,  and  then  fling  the  plant  away,  so 
that  it  does  not  require  many  days  to  clear  a  whole  field.  Ripe 
mangoes  have  a  special  attraction,  and  it  requires  no  small 
amount  of  vigilance  to  keep  them  away  from  the  groves. 

Dogs,  however  strong  and  fleet,  are  of  very  little  use  to  drive 
them  away,  for  the  monkeys  are  sagacious  enough  to  know  that 
their  safety  is  in  keeping  near  the  trees.  When  the  dog  has 
spent  himself  with  barking  and  screaming  at  the  foot  of  the 
tree,  a  monkey  will  come  down  to  the  lowest  branch  and  wag 
his  long  tail  within  a  few  inches  of  the  dog's  face,  and  when 
the  poor  dog  has  retired,  completely  foiled,  a  monkey  will  soon 
be  after  him  to  tempt  him  to  a  second  encounter. 

Mischief  is  certainly  in  their  hearts,  for,  not  content  with 


778  TEAVEL  AND  ADVENTURE. 

stealing  the  pi-oduce  of  the  gardens  and  fields,  they  will  pull 
pff  the  thatch  from  the  native  huts,  fling  the  tiles  from  the  bet- 
ter-built houses  and  shops  to  the  ground,  and  w'e  have  even 
seen  them  try  their  best  to  rift  the  stones  from  the  temples.  A 
native  tow^n  in  one  of  the  zemindary  estates  was  so  mutilated 
by  them  that  it  looked  as  if  it  had  sustained  a  siege. 

Some  years  ago,  after  making  our  arrangements  for  our  en- 
campment at  night,  we  constantly  had  our  peaceful  rest  broken 
by  a  tribe  of  brown  monkeys.  They  evidently  thought  that 
long  possession  had  given  them  a  prior  claim  to  the  grove.  For 
our  own  comfort  it  was  felt  by  all  that  some  means  must  be 
adopted  to  drive  them  away.  Accordingly  one  was  shot.  Death 
was  not  instantaneous,  and  quite  a  number  came  round  to  see 
it  die.  They  looked  with  startling  interest  into  its  face,  but  as 
soon  as  life  was  extinct  they  bounded  away.  Fear  had  fallen 
upon  them  all,  and  not  a  sound  was  heard  from  them  during 
the  night.  Early  next  morning  they  assembled  in  an  adjoining 
field.  The  sharp  and  quick  manner  in  which  they  turned  their 
faces  first  in  this  way  aijd  then  in  that  was  a  sight  not  soon  to 
be  forgotten.  They  had  instinct  enough  to  see  that  their  only 
safety  would  be  in  flight.  In  the  course  of  an  hour  the  king 
headed  the  tribe,  and  away  they  went,  and  not  a  solitary  mon- 
key was  seen  in  that  region  for  years  afterward.  The  natives 
dared  not  openly  commend  us,  but  they  were  not  a  little  pleased 
that  we  had  rid  them  of  creatures  so  destructive  to  their  home- 
steads. 

Some  years  after  the  above  incident  occurred  we  encamped 
on  one  of  the  rivers  in  Bengal.  In  this  neighborhood  the  farm- 
ers had  suffered  so  much  in  their  fields  from  the  Honoomau,  or 
larger  monkeys,  that  they  came  in  a  body  and  requested  iis  to 
shoot  one,  with  the  hojDe  that  the  rest  would  take  speedy  flight. 
We  were  very  reluctant  to  comply  with  their  request,  and  only 
yielded  to  great  importunity.  Pointing  to  their  fields  they  had 
tilled  and  sown,  and  now  completely  destroyed,  they  asked  us 
whether  that  was  not  suflicient  to  excite  our  sympathy?  The 
one  they  vvfished  me  to  shoot  was  pointed  out  to  me,  and  when 
the  creature  fell  dead  on  the  ground  I  was  told  that  "  I  had  shot 
the  king!"  and  that  before  the  day  was  over  I  should  see  a  bat- 
tle between  this  tribe  and  another  not  far  away.  The  one 
whose  king  had  been  shot  was  called  "the  Hindoo  tribe,"  and 


CA UGIIT  BY  A  SHARK.  779 

the  other  "the  Mussulman  tribe."  I  regarded  the  statement  as 
of  no  more  worth  than  some  of  the  legends  I  had  many  times 
heard.  But  the  day  was  not  far  gone  before  I  heard  a  strange 
whoop  and  a  shrill  cry,  and  a  mango  grove  close  to  our  encamp- 
ment seemed  literally  alive.  The  ground  was  strewn  with 
branches  and  leaves,  and  so  much  were  the  trees  mutilated  that 
there  was  no  hope  of  fruit  being  gathered  from  them  that  year. 
The  Mussulman  tribe,  with  their  king,  gained  the  victory,  and 
the  kingless  ones  had  to  submit  to  the  victors. 

The  monkeys  are  very  numerous  in  the  sacred  cities,  and  es- 
pecially in  Benares  and  Pooree.  Within  a  few  miles  of  the 
temple  of  Juggernaut  there  are  many  hundreds,  if  not  thou- 
sands. They  are  so  tame  that  they  will  come  down  from  the 
trees  and  eat  rice  from  the  hands  of  the  pilgrims.  When  the 
pilgrim  presents  his  hand  with  the  rice  in  it,  the  monkey  seizes 
it  with  his  left  paw,  and  he  will  never  let  go  his  grip  until  he 
has  taken  every  grain.  Very  few  persons  are  injured  by  mon- 
keys, but  they  will  sometimes  seize  a  basket,  if  there  be  fruit  in 
it,  when  carried  by  a  woman  or  child.  The  natives  often  say 
that  "monkeys  can  do  every  thing  except  talk,  and  they  would 
do  that  were  it  not  for  the  fear  of  being  made  to  work?*' 

(Saughip  by  a  Shai^i^. 

They  that  go  down  into  the  sea  sometimes  meet  with  thrilling 
adventures.  A  year  ago,  two  divers  were  eligaged  in  recover- 
ing portions  of  the  cargo  of  a  vessel  sunk  off  the  coast  of 
North  Carolina.  They  were  on  their  fourth  descent,  when  one 
of  them  hastily  signaled  to  be  drawn  up.  On  being  hauled 
into*  the  boat,  he  said  that  his  comrade  had  been  seized  by  a 
monster  shark.  Scarcely  had  he  told  the  story  when  the  com- 
rade rose  to  the  surface.  He  was  picked  up  insensible,  with 
several  holes  in  the  metallic  part  of  his  diving-suit.  When  he 
recovered  his  consciousness  he  told  this  story: 

We  made  our  fourth  descent,  and  while  my  companion  clam- 
bered into  the  .vessel  I  waited  on  the  ground  till  he  should  at- 
tach the  cords  to  draw  something  out.  I  was  just  about  to  sig- 
nal to  be  drawn  up  for  a  moment's  rest  when  I  noticed  a  shad- 
owy body  moving  at  some  distance  above  me  and  toward  me. 
I  was  not  thinking  of  danger,  and  my  first  thought  was  that  it 
was  the  shadow  of  a  passing  boat. 


780  TRAVEL  AND  ADVENTURE. 

By  this  time  the  shadow  had  come  nearer  and  taken  shape. 
It  scarcely  needed  a  glance  to  show  m.e  that  it  was  a  man-eater, 
and  of  the  largest  size. 

Had  I  signaled  to  be  drawn  up  then,  it  would  have  been  cer- 
tain death.  All  I  could  do  was  to  remain  still  until  it  left.  It 
lay  off  about  twenty  feet,  just  outside  the  rigging  of  the  ship, 
its  body  motionless,  its  fins  barely  stin'ing  the  water  about  its 
gills. 

Involuntarily  I  shrank  closer  to  the  side  of  the  vessel,  but  my 
first  movement  betrayed  my  presence.  I  saw  the  shining  eyes 
fixed  upon  me,  its  tail  quivered  as  it  darted  at  me.  I  shrank 
closer  to  the  side  of  the  ship,  I  saw  it  turn  on  one  side,  its  mouth 
open,  and  heard  the  teeth  snap  as  it  darted  by  me. 

It  had  missed  me,  but  only  for  a  moment;  the  sweep  of  its 
mighty  tail  had  thrown  me  forward.  I  saw  it  turn,  balance  it- 
self, and  its  tail  quivered  as  it  darted  at  me  again.  There  was 
no  escape.  It  turned  on  its  back  as  it  swooped  down  on  me 
like  a  hawk  on  a  sparrow.  The  cadaverous  jaws  opened,  and 
the  long,  shining  teeth  grated  as  they  closed  on  my  metal  har- 
ness. It  had  me.  I  could  feel  its  teeth  grinding  upon  my  cop- 
per breastplate. 

Having  seized  me,  it  went  tearing  through  the  water;  I  could 
feel  it  bound  forward  at  each  stroke  of  its  tail.  Had  it  not  been 
for  my  copper  helmet,  my  head  would  have  been  torn  off  by 
the  rush  through  the  water.  I  was  perfectly  conscious,  but 
somehow  I  felt  no  terror  at  all,  only  a  feeling  of  numbness.  I 
wondered  how  long  it  would  be  before  these  teeth  would 
crunch  through,  and  whether  they  would  strike  just  into  my 
back  or  my  breast.  ■  Then  I  thought  of  my  wife  and  the  baby, 
and  wondered  who  would  take  care  of  them,  or  if  she  would 
ever  know  what  had  become  of  me. 

All  these  thoughts  passed  through  my  brain  in  an  instant, 
but  in  that  time  the  connecting  air-tube  had  been  snapped,  and 
my  head  seemed  ready  to  burst  with  pressure.  Then  I  felt  the 
cold  water  begin  to  pour  in,  and  heard  the  bubble,  bubble, 
bubble,  as  the  air  escaped  into  the  creature's  mouth.  I  began 
to  hear  great  guns,  and  to  see  fireworks,  and  rainbows,  and  sun- 
shine, and  all  kinds  of  pretty  things;  then  I  thought  I  was 
floating  away  on  a  rosy  summer-cloud,  dreaming  to  the  sound 
of  sweet  music. 


TWO  ROMANCES  OF  BANDITTI.  781 

Tlien  all  became  blank.  Tbc  shark  might  have  eaten  me  then 
at  his  leisure,  and  I  never  should  have  been  the  wiser. 

Imagine  my  astonishment,  then,  when  I  opened  my  eyes  on 
board  this  boat,  and  saw  you  fellows  around  me.  Yes,  sir,  I 
thought  I  was  dead  and  eaten  up,  sure. 

<9W0   f{0MAN6BS  OP    BANDIipiPI. 

Mexican  brigands,  writes  a  correspondent,  are  waking  to  the 
fact  that  their  occupation  is  gone.  Rapid  travel  lays  bare  lives 
and  methods  that  distance  and  inaccessibility  have  hitherto  en- 
veloped in  a  veil  of  romance.  Yet  the  old  atmosphere  still  lin- 
gers protectingly  about  a  fe-.v,  which  accounts  for  the  fact  that 
Churcho  el  Poto,  the  notorious  bandit  who  was  captured  at 
Qiieretaro  the  other  day,  was  made  prisoner,  while  the  less  fa- 
mous ruffians  were  all  shot.  He  has  as  many  friends  in  Mexico 
as  the  James  boys  had  in  Missouri,  and  has  escaped  the  clutches 
of  the  law  and  bafflied  pursuit  again  and  again,  until  he  won  the 
name  of  "The  Mysterious  Man;"  has  been  imprisoned  in  the 
past  and  made  daring  escapes,  as  he  will  probably  do  in  the  fut- 
ure. One  of  the  secrets  of  his  popularity  is  that  his  code  of 
honor  allows  no  Mexican  to  suffer  at  his  hands.  While  he  has 
robbed  fortunes  from  unfortunate  travelers,  he  has  always 
spared  his  own  countryman  and  has  especially  delighted  in  prey- 
ing upon  Spaniards,  His  methods  have  often  been  original 
and  fearless,  yet  he  has  also  played  the  common  role  of  garroter 
and  burglar.  The  one  tender  pulsation  in  the  black  heart  of 
this  ruthless  robber  beats  in  unwavering  faithfulness  and  idola- 
trous love  for  his  daughter,  a  beautiful  girl  eighteen  years  of 
age,  whom  he  is  educating  in  Brussels,  who  is  ignorant  of  the 
true  character  of  her  bandit  father,  and  upon  whom  he  lavishes 
almost  all  the  money  that  comes  into  his  hands  by  his  system 
of  "  forced  loans." 

More  romantic  than  Churcho  el  Poto  is  the  little  I  can  gather 
about  a  gang  of  wreckers  who  were  pursued  and  shot  less  than 
a  month  ago  in  the  State  of  Durango.  The  leader  of  the  band 
was  well  known  to  the  Mexican  public  by  sight  and  through  a 
record  of  daring  deeds  and  bloody  crimes.  Young  and  boyish 
in  appearance;  handsome,  dashing,  and  so  brave  and  beloved 
by  the  entii'e  clan  of  eighteen  brigands  that  the  identity  of  this 
chief  was  never  betrayed  nor  suspected.     The  other  day  the 


782  TRAVEL  AND  ADVENTURE. 

rurales  tracked  them  down,  sent  eight  bullets  through  the  cap- 
tain's heart,  and  destroyed  the  whole  band,  not  leaving  one  to 
tell  the  story,  which  all  will  long  to  hear,  as  I  did  when  I  learned 
that  the  handsome,  bandit  boy  was  only  a  bit  of  successful  mas- 
querading, for  when  the  riddled  sombrero  was  removed  and  the 
bullet-burnt  blanket  thrown  aside,  a  shapely  form  was  revealed, 
and  the  astonished  soldiers  learned  that  the  leader  of  their  foe 
had  been  a  woman. 

fl  Thousand  Days  in  the  ^ide,  ^ild  Lcand. 

Mr.  Henry  M.  Stanley,  the  discoverer  of  Livingstone  and  the 
explorer  of  the  "Dark  Continent,"  is  now  engaged  in  another 
African  expedition.  Some  few  particulars  of  his  former  jour- 
ney of  a  thousand  days,  during  which  he  explored  the  greatest 
lakes  in  the  heart  of  Africa,  and  traced  the  mighty  Congo — 
henceforth  to  be  known  as  the  Livingstone — down  from  the 
center  of  the  continent  to  the  sea,  will  be  interesting. 

Henry  M.  Stanley  was  born  in  the  year  1840.  He  seems  to 
have. been  designed  by  nature  as  an  explorer.  His  disposition 
was  roving,  and  he  commenced  his  adventures  at  an  early  age. 
He  was  already  something  of  a  traveler  by  the  time  the  war  of 
the  rebellion  broke  out.  At  first  a  volunteer  in  the  army,  when 
his  term  of  service  expired  he  became  a  newspaper  correspond- 
ent, in  which  occupation  he  continued  after  the  war  closed, 
traveling  extensively  through  the  Western  Territories.  Next 
we  hear  of  him  traveling  across  Asia,  then  among  the  Indians 
of  America.  During  the  Abyssinian  campaign  he  followed  the 
British  army  as  correspondent  of  the  New  York  Herald.  Then 
he  was  in  Spain,  then  in  Crete,  then  back  to  Spain  again. 
Then,  at  short  notice,  he  set  out  to  find  the  missionary  explorer 
Livingstone,  from  whom  for  several  years  there  had  been  no 
tidings.  Stanley  seemed  to  know  by  instinct  whither  to  go, 
and  on  the  loth  of  November,  1871,  found  the  object  of  his 
search  at  Ujiji,  on  the  eastern  shore  of  Lake  Tanganyika. 

He  remained  until  the  following  spring  in  company  with  Dr. 
Livingstone,  and  then  returned  to  England.  In  August,  1874, 
Mr.  Stanley  started  from  England  for  the  further  explorations 
of  which  we  give  some  brief  account  in  this  article.  This  ex- 
pedition was  at  the  expense  of  the  London  Daily  Telegraph  and 
the  New  York  Herald.     For  convenience  of  reference  we  here 


A  THOUSAND  DAYS,  ETC.  783 

summarize  his  journey:  He  left  Enjjland  in  August,  1874;  Bag- 
amoyo,  opposite  Zanzibar,  November  17th;  reached  the  south 
end  of  the  Victoria  Nyanza  February  27th,  1875;  ^"*  received 
by  King  Mtesa  at  the  north  end  April  4th;  spent  a  number  of 
months  in,  exploring  the  Victoria  and  Albert  Nyanza,  the  sur- 
rounding regions,  and  Lake  Tanganyika;  reached  Ujiji  in  June, 
1876,  and  left  at  the  end  of  August.  Nyangwe,  on  the  Lual- 
aba,  was  reached  about  the  middle  of  October.  From  this 
point,  which  was  left  on  November  5th,  Mr.  Stanley  traversed, 
in  the  midst  of  almost  incredible  hardships  and  dangers,  a  re- 
gion never  before,  so  far  as  is  known,  visited  by  a  white  man. 
The  expedition,  reduced  and  enfpebled,  finally  emerged  at  Em- 
bomma,  or  Boma,  near  the  mouth  of  the  Congo,  on  August 
8,  1877. 

It  will  cause  no  surprise  to  those  who  read  the  narrative  that 
the  young,  fresh-faced  man  who  left  Zanzibar  in  the  autumn 
of  1874  was  gray-headed  by  the  summer  of  three  years  later 
when  he  once  again  came  out  in  the  regions  of  civilization. 
The  wonder  is  that  with  his  three  white  companions  dying  one 
by  one,  the  members  of  his  expedition  at  times  murmuring  and 
rebelling,  the  dark  tropical  forests  exhaling  their  miasms,  the 
treacherous  rapids  and  dangerous  cataracts  ready  to  engulf  all 
as  they  did  some  of  his  hapless  followers,  the  cruel  cannibals 
along  the  mid-ct)ntinental  stream  attacking  him  in  thirty-two 
battles,  the  supply  of  nourishing  food  exhausted,  and,  indeed, 
almost  all  food  at  last  gone — the  wonder  is  that  he  lived  to  tell 
the  tale.  But  he  not  only  did  live,  but  took  the  surviving  mem- 
bers of  his  expedition — eighty-nine  out  of  the  two  hundred  and 
twenty-four  that  started — back  to  Zanzibar;  and  brought  with 
him  his  notes,  sketches,  photographs,  etc.,  by  means  of  which 
he  has  presented  to  the  world  not  only  one  of  the  most  inter- 
esting, but  one  of  the  most  valuable  records  of  travels  ever 
published,  entitled,  "Through  the  Dark  Continent." 

Mr.  Stanley's  work  divided  itself  into  three  main  parts.  He 
filled  up,  corrected,  and  extended  the  researches  of  preceding 
explorers  in  the  region  of  Lake  Victoria  Nyanza,  identifying 
it  as  the  head-waters  of  the  Nile — that  wonderful  river  that 
flows  over  a  course  of  more  than  2,300  miles.  The  second  part 
of  Mr.  Stanley's  work  was  the  circumnavigation  of  Lake  Tan- 
ganyika, the  head  of  the  water-supply  of  the  Congo,  or  Living- 


784  TRAVEL  AND  ADVENTURE. 

stone.  And  the  third  and  greatest  part  of  the  explorer's  work 
was  the  identifying  of  the  Lualaba  as  the  main  affluent  of  this 
mighty  stream,  which  the  expedition  followed  to  the  sea. 

For  making  these  lake  and  river  explorations  Mr.  Stanley 
took  with  him  from  England  a  boat  made  in  sectiops,  so  as  to 
be  easily  carried.  It  proved  a  safe  and  serviceable  vessel,  and 
was  only  abandoned  when  there  was  no  further  use  for  it,  be- 
cause the  journey  was  over.  After  7,000  miles  of  most  mem- 
orable travel  the  Lady  Alice  was  consigned  to  a  resting-place 
above  the  Isangila  Cataract,  there  to  bleach  and  rot. 

A  very  interesting  episode  in  Mr.  Stanley's  journey  was  his 
intercourse  with  Mtesa,  the  Emperor  of  Uganda. 

"An  intelligent  and  distinguished  prince,"  writes  Stanley, 
"  who  if  aided  in  time  by  virtuous  philanthropists  will  do  more 
for  Central  Africa  than  fifty  years  of  gospel  teaching,  unaided 
by  such  authority,  can  do.  I  think  I  see  in  him  the  light  that 
shall  lighten  the  darkness  of  this  benighted  region;  a  prince 
well  worthy  the  most  hearty  sympathies  that  Europe  can  eive 
him.  In  this  man  I  see  the  possible  fruition  of  Livingstone's 
hopes,  for  with  his  aid  the  civilization  of  Equatorial  Africa  be- 
comes feasible." 

The  pains  Mr.  Stanley  took  to  instruct  this  prince  in  some  of 
the  principles  of  the  Christian  religion  is  a  matter  of  history, 
and  need  not  be  recounted  here,  as  is  also  his  appeal  for  Chris- 
tian missionaries  to  visit  that  region,  and  embrace  the  ripe  op- 
portunity offered  by  the  ready  access  to  the  two  millions  of 
Mtesa's  subjects.  The  region  is  accessible  either  by  way  of  the 
upper  Nile,  or  from  Zanzibar. 

LakeTanganyika  presents  varied  scenery.  In  some  places  the 
cliffs  along  its  margin  rise  in  massive  grandeur;  the  mountain 
ranges  that  skirt  it  are  considerable.  In  writing  of  the  Lukuga 
outlet,  says  Stanley,  in  1876: 

"At  present  there  are  only  a  few  inches  of  mud-banks  and  a 
frail  barrier  of  papyrus  and  reeds  to  interpose  between  the 
waters  of  the  lake  and  its  destiny,  which  is  now,  year  by  year, 
steadily  approaching.  When  the  Tanganyika  has  risen  three  feet 
higher,  and  its  waters  are  steadily  rising,  there  will  be  no  surf 
at  the  mouth  of  the  Lukuga,  no  sill  of  sand,  no  oozing  mud- 
banks,  no  rush-covered  old  river-course,  but  the  accumulated 
waters  of  over  a  hundred  rivers  will  sweep  through  the  ancient 


A  TJIOUSAND  DAYS,  ETC.  786 

gap  with  the  force  of  a  cataclysm,  bearing  away  on  its  flood  all 
the  deposits  of  organic  d6bris  at  present  in  the  Lukuga,  Creek, 
down  the  steep  incline,  to  swell  the  tribute  due  to  the  mighty 
Livingstone." 

As  the  members  of  the  expedition  pushed  on  toward  the  At- 
lantic, they  were  beset  by  fierce  cannibal  tribes,  through  the 
midst  of  whom  they  had  to  fight  their  way.  At  intervals  there 
were  swift  rapids  or  tremendous  cataracts.  It  was  no  easy  work 
to  take  the  boat  and  eighteen  canoes  of  the  company  around  the 
rapids  or  falls,  to  attempt  Which  would  have  been  destruction. 
A  path  must  be  cut  through  the  dense  tropical  forest,  and  the 
road  lined  with  branches,  and  then  up  to  the  table-land  1,200 
feet  above  the  river  the  vessels  must  be  dragged,  to  be  carried 
down  on  the  other  side.  It  is  no  wonder  that  in  one  instance 
it  took  them  thirty  days  to  progress  three  miles.  Their  daunt- 
less leader  must  never  lose  heart  or  hope.  He  must  be  com- 
mander, counselor,  physician.  He  must  inspire  them  by  his 
own  courage.  He  must  animate  them  when  they  are  almost 
utterly  discouraged  at  the  many  dangers  and  difficulties  that 
beset  them.  He  must  share  their  scanty  provisions,  and  bear 
their  hardships.     And  all  this  he  did. 

But  all  difficulties  were  overcome  and  all  dangers  passed. 
From  Nyangwe  the  river  runs  almost  straight  north  to  about 
the  equator,  then  it  turns  north-west,  then  west,  and  finally  a 
south-westerly  course,  which  it  maintains  down  to  the  Atlantic. 
To  the  north  of  Nyangwe  there  is  a  long  series  of  cataracts 
ending  near  the  equator.  Then  for  hundreds  of  miles  the  river 
broadens  out  almost  into  a  lake,  from  two  to  ten  miles  in  width, 
and  studded  with  islands.  It  was  in  this  region  that  the  na- 
tive tribes  were  most  fierce.  The  expedition  worked  and 
fought  its  way  through  these  blood-thirsty  savages,  only  to  find 
in  the  lower  part  of  the  river  another  series  of  cataracts.  These 
were  successfully  passed,  and  the  great  secret  of  the  wide,  wild 
land  was  unveiled.  From  its  origin  as  the  Zambezi,  to  the 
east  of  Lake  Nyassa,  and  under  many  names  and  receiving 
many  tributaries,  this  great  river  has  a  course  to  the  ocean  of 
about  3,000  miles — a  water-way  waiting  the  use  of  both  com- 
merce and  religion.  May  they  both  enter  in,  and  the  Dark  Con- 
tinent be  lighted  up  with  that  light  that  shall  never  dim!  Let 
all  Christian  people  pray  God  to  speed  the  day. 
50 


786  TRAVE^.  AND  ADVENTURE. 

fl    ©HI^ILLING   SGBNB. 

One  of  the  most  thrilling  scenes  ever  witnessed  in  the  amphi- 
theater at  Cadiz  transpired  in  the  autumn  of  1841.  Notice  had 
been  posted  in  all  the  public  places  that  on  a  certain  day  the 
bull  called  El  Moro  (the  Moor)  would  be  introduced  into  the 
arena,  and  that  when  he  should  have  been  goaded  to  the  utmost 
fury,  a  young  girl  would  appear  and  reduce  the  animal  to  quiet 
subjection.  On  the  appointed  day  the  vast  amphitheater  was 
filled  to  overflowing  with  an  eager  crowd.  Two  bulls  had  been 
killed  and  dragged  away,  and  then  a  flourish  of  trumpets  an- 
nounced the  coming  of  the  hero  of  the  day.  With  a  roar  El 
Moro  entered  upon  the  scene.  He  was  truly  magnificent — a 
bovine  monarch — black  and  glossy,  with  eyes  of  fire,  dilating 
nostrils,  and  wicked-looking  horns.  The  picadores  attacked  him 
warily,  and  hui'led  their  banderillos — small,  dart-like  javelins,  or- 
namented with  ribbons,  and  intended  to  goad  and  infuriate. 
The  bull  had  killed  three  horses  off'-hand,  and  had  received 
eight  banderillos  in  his  neck  and  shoulders,  when,  upon  a  given 
signal,  the  picadores  and  matadores  suddenly  withdrew,  leaving 
the  infuriated  beast  alone  in  the  wild  paroxysm  of  wrath. 
Presently  a  soft  musical  note  was  heard,  and  directly  afterward 
a  girl,  not  more  than  fifteen  years  of  age,  with  the  tasteful  garb 
of  an  Andalusian  peasant,  and  with  a  pretty  face,  sprang  lightly 
into  the  arena,  approaching  the  bull  fearlessly,  at  the  same  time 
caUing  his  name:     '^Moro!  Moro! — Yavoyf^ 

At  the  first  sound  of  the  sweet  voice  the  animal  had  ceased 
his  fury,  and  when  he  saw  the  girl  he  plainly  manifested  pleas- 
ure. She  came  to  his  head  and  put  forth  her  hand,  which  he 
licked  with  his  tongue.  Then  she  sang  a  sweet  song,  at  the 
same  time  caressing  the  animal  by  patting  him  on  the  forehead, 
and  whilst  she  sang  the  suffering  monarch  kneeled  at  her  feet. 
Then  she  stooped  and  gently  removed  the  banderillos,  after 
which,  with  her  own  arm  around  El  Moro's  neck,  she  led  him 
toward  the  gate  of  the  torril.  Until  now  the  multitude  had 
been  held  spell-bound,  but  when  they  saw  the  gentle  mistress 
thus  triumphant,  a  shout  went  up  that  shook  the  very  walls.  In 
an  instant  the  bull  turned,  the  flame  again  in  his  eyes,  but  the 
girl  very  soon  subdued  him  and  led  him  out  of  the  arena — a 
prize  which  she  was  to  carry  back  with  her  to  her  home. 


OUTWITTED.  787 

OUTWIIFTBD. 

Clarertte  King,  the  Sierra  scientist,  was  once  followed  for 
three  days  over  the  Tulare  plains  and  into  the  San  Joaquin  Val- 
ley by  a  couple  of  mounted  Mexican  highwaymen,  who  alter- 
nately chased  and  intercepted  him,  forcing  him  more  than  once 
for  safety  to  the  chances  of  speed  or  stratagem.  After  one  nar- 
row escape  by  a  magnificent  run  of  his  good  horse  "Kaweah," 
he  had  traveled  a  day  unmolested,  and  was  stopping  for  the 
night  at  a  settler's  ranch,  when  the  robbers  rode  up  to  the  ranch, 
and  from  their  questions  to  his  villainous  host  and  their  sudden 
departure,  he  knew,  as  he  overheard  the  whole  from  his  win- 
dow, that  they  intended  to  waylay  him  on  the  road.  The  story 
of  the  remarkable  slip  he  gave  them  is  thus  told  by  Mr.  King 
himself: 

In  the  night  I  rose  cautiously,  and  holding  my  watch  up  to 
the  moon,  found  that  twelve  o'clock  had  just  passed;  then 
taking  from  my  pocket  a  five-dollar  gold-piece,  I  laid  it  upon 
the  stand  by  my  bed,  and  in  my  stocking-feet,  with  my  clothes 
in  my  hand,  started  noiselessly  for  the  corral. 

A  fierce  bull-dog,  who  had  shown  no  disposition  to  make 
friends  with  me,  bounded  from  the  x)pen  door  of  the  proprietor 
to  my  side.  Instead  of  tearing  me,  as  I  expected,  he  licked  my 
hands  and  fawned  about  my  feet. 

Reaching  the  corral-gate  I  dreaded  opening  it,  remembering 
that  it  creaked  badly.  So  I  hung  my  clothes  upon  an  upper 
bar  of  the  fence,  and  cautiously  lifting  the  latch  began  to  push 
back  the  gate  inch  by  inch,  an  operation  which  consumed  eight 
or  ten  minutes.  Then  I  walked  up  to  Kaweah  and  patted  him. 
The  horse  seemed  full  of  curiosity,  as  if  he  had  never  been  ap- 
proached in  the  night  before.  Suppressing  his  ordinary  whin- 
nying he  preserved  a  motionless,  statue-like  silence.  I  was  in 
terror  lest  by  a  neigh,  or  some  nervous  movement,  he  should 
w^aken  the  sleeping  proprietor  and  expose  my  plan. 

The  corral  and  the  open  square  were  half-covered  with  loose 
stones,  and  when  I  thought  of  the  clatter  of  Kaweah's  shoes  I 
experienced  a  feeling  of  trouble,  till  finally  the  idea  struck  me 
of  muffling  the  iron  feet. 

In  constant  dread  lest  the  horse  should  make  some  noise,  I 
hurried  to  muffle  his  fore-feet  with  my  trousers  and  shirt,  and 


788  TRAVEL  AND  ADVENTURE. 

then,  with  rather  more  care,  to  tie  upon  his  hind-feet  my  coat 
and  drawers. 

Leading  him  slowly  out  of  the  corral-gate,  I  walktd  beside 
him,  holding  him  firmly  by  the  bit,  for  a  distance  of  perhaps  a 
quarter  of  a  mile.  I  then  stopped  and  listened.  All  was  quiet. 
I  then  unbound  the  wrappings,  shook  from  them  as  much  dust 
as  possible,  dressed  myself,  and  leaping  on  Kaweah's  back, 
started  northward  on  the  Mariposa  trail. 

In  the  soft  dust  we  traveled  noiselessly  for  a  mile  or  so,  pass- 
ing from  the  open  country  into  groves  of  oak  and  thickets  of 
chapparal. 

Suddenly  I  came  upon  a  smoldering  fire  close  by  the  trail, 
and  in  the  shadow  saw  two  inen  asleep.  One  was  stretched 
on  his  back,  snoring  heavily;  the  other  was  lying  upon  his  face, 
pillowing  his  head  on  his  folded  arms. 

I  rode  cautiously  by  without  awakening  them.  My  nerves 
were  keyed  up  to  a  high  pitch.  I  turned  round  in  the  saddle, 
leaving  Kaweah  to  follow  the  trail,  and  kept  my  eyes  riveted 
on  the  sleeping  forms  until  they  were  both  in  the  distance,  and 
then  I  felt  safe. 

We  galloped  over  many  miles  of  trail,  enjoying  a  sunrise,  and 
at  last  came  to  Mariposa,  where  I  deposited  my  gold,  and  then 
went  to  bed  and  made  up  my  lost  sleep. 

Six  Castaways  pi^om  the  South  Sea  Islands. 

The  Pacific  Mail  steamer  City  of  Tokio  recently  arrived 
from  Yokohama.  Her  delay  was  caused  by  heavy  weather 
and  strong  easterly  winds.  The  official  time  of  her  passage 
from  Yokohama  was  20  days,  21  hours,  and  40  minutes.  Be- 
sides Caucasian  cabin  and  steerage  passengers  she  brought 
forty  Mongolians.  Three  of  these  are  actors,  and  the  rest  are 
returning  laborers.  There  are  also  aboard  six  South  Sea  Island- 
ers from  Abimana  of  the  Gilbert  Islands.  They  were  picked 
up  at  sea  by  the  ship  Northern  Light,  and  taken  to  Yokohama. 
The  ship  found  them  adrift  and  in  a  dying  condition  on  Novem- 
ber loth,  in  latitude  7°  31'  south,  and  longitude  168°  i'  east. 
The  boat  contained  ten  persons,  five  of  whom  had  died  from 
starvation.  There  was  one  woman  among  the  survivors.  They 
were  so  emaciated,  and  looked  so  wretched,  especially  the  wom- 
an, that  at  first  their  recovery  was  believed  to  be  impossible. 


TREED.  789 

However,  they  received  all  possible  care,  and  all  recovered. 
Their  story  w^as  that  in  attempting  to  cross  from  one  island  to 
another  a.  storm  overtook  them  and  drove  them  to  sea  and  out 
of  sight  of  land.  They  had  nothing  to  eat  but  a  little  dry  pul- 
verized banana,  and  to  drink  a  few  gallons  of  water  in  vessels. 
The  woman  gave  birth  to  a  child  while  on  board  the  Northern 
Light,  but  the  babe  did  not  survive.  One  of  the  men  speaks* 
a  little  English.  They  are  soon  to  be  sent  on  to  Australia, 
thence  to  the  Fiji  Islands,  and  from  there  to  the  Gilbert  Islands. 
To  all  outward  appearances  they  are  untutored  savages,  yet 
constant  intercourse  with  them  shows  that  they  have  been  un- 
der missionary  influence.  Captain  Slocum,  of  the  Northern 
Light,  said  regarding  them:  "A  more  devout  band  of  Chris- 
tians I  never  met.  When  first  hauled  out  of  their  cheerless 
cockle-shell,  more  dead  than  alive,  they  fell  upon  their  knees 
on  deck  and  gave  thanks  to  the  Almighty  with  becoming  rev- 
erence." 

The  peccary  is  as  dangerous  as  the  bear  of  the  German  for- 
est. The  hunter,  while  looking  for  a  deer  in  the  cane-brake, 
suddenly  hears  a  clattering,  as  if  a  dozen  negro  minstrels  were 
clapping  the  bones.  The  next  moment  he  sees  a  hunched-back, 
studded  with  erect  bristles,  and  churning  jaws  flecked  with 
foam. 

A  hunter  went  out  one  morning  to  a  forest,  half  a  mile  from 
a  Texan  plantation,  to  "  still-hunt "  for  a  deer.  While  cautiously 
moving,  he  noticed  the  shaking  of  the  slender  cane-stems  in 
front  of  him. 

Catching  sight  of  a  small,  dark  object,  which  he  thought 
might  be  a  wild  turkey,  he  took  aim  and  fired. 

Hearing  the  snapping  noise  that  peccaries  make,  he  bolted. 
The  rustling  of  the  cane-stalks  told  him  that  he  was  pursued 
by  several  of  the  dangerous  brutes. 

Dropping  his  rifle,  he  climbed  a  tree,  and  before  he  gained  a 
comfortable  perch  his  pursuers  were  grunting  around  the  root. 
As  night  came  on  the  seat  became  uncomfortable.  He  roared 
at  the  top  of  his  voice: 

"•House!  house!  ahoy!"  No  reply  came,  as  the  wind  was 
dead  ahead. 


790  TRAVEL  AND  ADVENTURE. 

Then  he  thought  that  the  long,  quavei'ing  notes  of  a  Co- 
manche war-whoop  could  be  heard  further  than  any  other  yell. 

"How-how-poo-oo-oo-oo-ah! "  he  yelled. 

"Hilloa!"  came  back  from  a  long  distance  off. 

"Whoop- whoop !  "  answered  the  desperately  tired  man. 

In  a  few  minutes  a  voice  shouted,  "  Who's  that  trying  to  scare 
all  the  owls  out  of  the  woods?" 

"  Take  care  you're  not  scared  yourself! "  shouted  the  hunter. 
"I'm  treed  by  Mexican  hogs,  and  they'll  put  you  to  climbing 
if  they  catch  a  glimpse  of  you.  Go  back  to  the  plantation; 
get  every  dog  you  can  find;  get  the  people  with  guns  and  cane- 
knives,  and  come  back  and  use  these  hogs  up." 

"All  right,"  replied  the  voice.     "  I'll  soon  be  back." 

It  seemed  a  long  hour  before  the  treed  hunter  heard  the  voice 
of  the  rescuing  party.  Led  by  the  overseer  came  a  dozen  ne- 
groes, armed  with  guns,  cane-knives,  and  clubs,  and  accompa- 
nied by  two  dozen  dogs. 

A  sharp  attack  killed,  crippled,  and  put  to  flight  the  peccaries. 
The  hunter  was  so  stiff  that  he  had  to  be  carried  home. 

The  man  who  heard  the  war-whoop  was  the  county  tax-col- 
lector, and  it  was  the  only  time  he  ever  received  so  warm  a  wel- 
come. 

Sl^YING   ITO   flSTONISH    IPHB    nATIYBS. 

When  the  first  Anglican  Church  dean  went  to  Natal  he 
visited  the  Wesleyan  Mission  at  Pietermaritzburg,  and  Rev. 
W.  J.  Davis,  the  missionary,  invited  him  to  preach  to  his 
Kaffirs.  The  dean  accepted  the  invitation  and  came  before  the 
audience  in  his  white  "surplice,"  a  style  of  dress  the  natives 
had  never  seen  before.  After  the  service  Mr.  Davis  asked 
some  of  the  men  what  they  thought  of  the  new  nmfundisi's 
preaching.  "Well,"  replied  one,  "it  was  very  good — just  the 
same  things  we  had  heard  before;  but  we  were  wondering  all 
the  time  why  the  man  did  not  put  his  shirt  inside  of  his  trou- 
sers." These  were  the  same  class  of  people  to  whom  Bishop 
Taylor  preached,  as  related  in  a  preceding  article,  and  he  tells 
us  that  he  was  very  careful  not  to  make  his  appearance  in  any 
unusual  form  of  dress.  These  Kaffir  negroes,  by  the  way,  are 
probably  the  most  intellectual  of  any  of  the  natives'  of  Africa. 


,_  DICAL-NOTES. 

(©OMMON-SENSE   fiDVIGB. 


BY  W.  W.  BREESE. 


ROM  the  earliest  ages  mankind  have 
been  the  victims  of  empiricism  and  quack- 
ery. The  most  primitive  forms  of  medical 
treatment  consisted  in  charms,  amulets, 
and  nostrums.  This  plan  for  treating  disease  still  ex- 
ists in  the  Voudou  practice  of  the  negroes,  both  in 
Africa  and  America.  It  has  been  improved  upon 
but  little  in  the  practice  of  many  other  more  civilized 
races,  who  make  much  greater  pretense  to  advance- 
ment and  intelligence.  The  signs  ^nd  old  women's 
remedies  of  our  own  country  are  equally  unreason- 
able in  many  instances  to  the  practices  of  the  heathen. 
We  begin  wrong  at  the  very  beginning,  and  the 
great  wonder  is  that  so  many  people  live  to  maturity 
and  old  age  as  we  find  to  be  the  case.  The  new- 
born babe  is  given  a  piece  of  fat  meat  to  suck;  it  is 
dosed  with  various  teas;  it  is  fed  on  sweet  things — all 
as  "preventive"  measures,  for  fear  it  may  get  sick 
without  them.  The  most  absurd  and  unscientific  no- 
tions prevail  about  the  care  of  children  all  over  the 

(791) 


792  MEDICAL  NOTES. 

» 

land.  Strong,  healthy  babes  are  so  treated  as  to 
make  them  sickly  and  weak,  out  of  respect  to  the  ad- 
vice of  the  would-be  Solons  of  the  neighborhood. 
We  find  little  children  fed  on  hot,  peppery  compounds 
under  the  notion  that  such  a  course  of  diet  will  ward 
off  disease;  rich  food,  soaked  with  grease,  and  ren- 
dered nearly  as  indigestible  as  leather,  is  eaten  daily 
and  almost  hourly;  sleeping-rooms  closed  tightly  at 
night  for  fear  of  a  "draught"  of  deadly  (?)  night-air; 
and  so  on  to  the  end  of  the  chapter. 

And  right  here  we  must  enter  a  protest  against  the 
use  of  so  much  highly-seasoned  food.  We  find  in 
many  families  that  at  almost  every  meal  the  children 
are  allowed,  and  even  encouraged,  to  the  free  use  of 
mustard,  black  and  Cayenne  pepper,  catsup,  vinegar, 
and  many  other  forms  of  condiments  which  a  healthy 
appetite  never  craves.  The  invariable  result  of  such 
a  course  is  to  foster  the  sensual  and  animal  passions, 
create  a  depraved  appetite,  leading  to  the  use  of  to- 
bacco and  whisky,  and  gradually  break  down  the  nor- 
mal condition  of  the  digestive  organs.  Many  relig- 
ious parents  have  mourned  over  the  moral  derelictions 
of  their  children,  who  have  gone  out  into  the  world, 
their  sons  to  be  rakes  and  their  daughters  to  lead  lives 
of  -shame,  when  the  real  secret  and  cause  of  the 
trouble  lay  in  this  one  thing.  There  is  really  quite 
as  much  intemperance  and  debauchery  in  eating  as  in 
drinking,  and  we  firmly  believe  that  spices,  pepper, 
mustard,  and  the  many  forms  of  pickles  and  table- 
sauces  in  common  use,  do  more  to  break  down  the 
virtue  of  our  youth  than  any  other  cause  in  existence 
at  the  present  day. 

In  connection  with  this  subject  we  quote  the  fol- 


COMMON-SENSE  ADVICE.  793 

lowing  from  an  eminent  medical  authority  upon  a  kin- 
dred topic: 

"  We  have  referred  to  the  action  of  some  foreign 
authorities  in  forbidding  the  use  of  tobacco  by  the 
young — the  prohibition  being  based  on  the  fact  that 
tobacco  lessens  their  future  capacity  of  service  to  the 
State,  especially  in  military  life." 

In  full  accord  with  this  is  the  Report  of  Dr.  Gihon, 
Medical  Director,  U.S.N. : 

"  In  retiring  from  the  Institution  he  desired  to  leave 
it  as  his  last  utterance  that  '  beyond  all  other  things, 
the  future  health  and  usefulness  of  the  lads  educated 
at  this  school  require  the  absolute  interdiction  of  to- 
bacco.' In  this  opinion  he  is,  he  says,  sustained  by 
his  colleagues,  by  all  other  sanitarians  in  military  and 
civil  life  whose  views  he  had  been  able  to  learn,  and 
by  the  known  belief  of  the  officer  who  was  to  suc- 
ceed him. 

"  The  fact  that  so  many  adults  can  use  tobacco  with 
apparent  impunity  is,  in  his  view,  no  argument  in  fa- 
vor of  its  use  by  growing  lads,  for  while  it  arrests 
w^aste  of  tissue  in  the  former,  this  very  arrest  of  waste 
in  the  young  is  connected  with  a  retarding  of  their 
normal  development." 

He  adds:  "An  agent  which,  through  its  sedative 
effect  on  the  circulation,  creates  a  thirst  for  alcohoHc 
stimulation;  which,  by  its  depressing  and  disturbing 
effect  on  the  nerve  centers,  increases  bad  passions; 
w^hich  determines  functional  diseases  of  the  heart; 
which  impairs  vision,  blunts  the  memory,  and  inter- 
feres with  mental  effort  and  application,  ought,  in  my 
opinion  as  a  sanitary  officer,  at  whatever  cost  of  vig- 
ilance, to  be  rigorously  interdicted." 


794  MEDICAL  NOTES. 

The  healthiest  food  is  a  matter  of  much  importance, 
and  Cullen  says:  "  Beyond  all  question  a  well-selected 
vegetable  diet  is  the  best  fitted  to  maintain  health  and 
strength  for  mental  or  physical  labor.  A  great  per- 
centage of  the  manifold  disorders  which  afflict  hu- 
manity are  generated  by  the  use  of  pork,  veal,  and 
other  meats  in  immoderate  quantities,  and  prepared 
in  preposterous  forms  with  lard,  rich  sauces,  season- 
ing, etc.  Vegetable  aliment,  as  neither  distending  the 
vessels  nor  loading  the  system,  never  interrupts  the 
stronger  action  of  the  mind;  while  the  heat,  fullness, 
and  weight  of  animal  food  is  adverse  to  its  efforts." 

Of  all  animal  food  in  common  use,  pork  is  decid- 
edly the  worst.  Its  use  as  food  frequently  engenders 
an  extremely  painful  disease,  by  many  pronounced  in- 
curable, caused  by  a  filthy  parasite  which  exists  nat- 
urally in  the  muscles  of  swine. 

"  Good  bread  contains  the  best  food  for  man  in  the 
proportions  required  for  healthy  nourishment.  Wheat 
is  the  king  of  grains — the  most  perfect  food  for  man; 
but  we  have  bread  also  of  rye,  oatmeal,  barley,  maize, 
rice,  etc.,  and  even  a  baked  potato  is  closely  aUied  to 
bread.  At  the  best,  white  bread  is  often  a  cause  of 
disease.  Unless  one  eats  considerable  proportions  of 
fruit  or  vegetables  with  it  it  produces  constipation. 

"  The  sweetest,  and  most  nutritious,  and  healthiest 
bread  in  the  world  is  that  made  from  unbolted  wheat 
flour — brown  bread — not  the  dry  and  tasteless  stuff 
sometimes  made  by  bakers  by  mixing  bran  with  their 
ordinary  dough,  but  breaci  made  of  the  "whole  meal" 
of  good  sound  wheat,  and  containing  all  of  its  nutri- 
tive elements.  Chemists  have  found  by  analysis  that 
the  nitrogenous  or  flesh-forming  portion  of  wheat  re- 


COMMON-  SENSE  AD  VICE.  795 

• 

sides  chiefly  in  its  outer  layer — the  very  portion  that 
is  thrown  away,  or  given  to  cattle;  and  physiologists 
have  also  discovered  that  it  is  this  portion  which  keeps 
up  a  healthy  action  of  the  bowels.  No  person  who 
lives  chiefly  or  largely  on  genuine  brown  bread,  or  its 
equivalent,  in  perhaps  a  better  form — porridge  made 
of  coarse  wheat-meal — ever  suflfers  from  constipation, 
and  long-standing  cases  arc  speedily  cured  by  a  diet 
of  pure  wheat  and  fruit.  I  have  never  known  a  case, 
even  of  years'  standing  and  constant  use  of  aperients, 
that  did  not  soon  yield  to  such  a  diet. 

"  From  the  earliest  known  ages  brown  and  wheat 
bread  has  been  famed  as  a  most  healthy,  invigorating 
food.  Hippocrates,  the  father  of  medicine,  prescribed 
it;  the  hardy  Spartans  lived  on  it;  the  Romans  of  the 
heroic  ages  lived  on  it;  and  their  armies  conquered 
the  world  on  a  diet  of  brown  bread.  The  most 
healthy  peasantry  of  Central  Europe  eat  it  as  their 
common  food.  Baron  Steuben  said  the  peculiar 
healthfulness  of  the  Prussian  soldier}^  a  century  ago 
was  owing  to  their  living  almost  entirely  on  unbolted 
wheat  bread.  During  the  naval  glory  of  Holland  her 
sailors  ate  the  same  kind.  During  the  wars  of  Na- 
poleon, when  wheat  was  dear  in  England,  the  army, 
from  motives  of  economy,  was  supplied  with  brown 
bread.  The  soldiers  at  first  refused  to  eat  it — threw^ 
it  away — all  but  mutinied;  but  in  a  few  days  they 
liked  it  better  than  the  white;  and  their  health  so 
much  improved  that  in  a  few  months  disease  was 
almost  banished.  Many  of  the  nobility  adopted  it, 
and  physicians  began  to  prescribe  it.  An  orphan 
asylum  in  New  York  was  cured  of  epidemic  ophthal- 
mia by  the  use  of  brown  bread  in  place  of  white. 


796  MEDICAL  NOTES. 

"And  this  brown  bread,  with  its  equivalent  prepa- 
rations, is  thfe  purest,  the  healthiest,  the  best  form  of 
human  food.  The  model  food  for  childhood  and 
youth;  the  food  of  growth,  purity,  beauty,  intellect — 
in  one  word,. of  health — is  brown  bread,  milk,  and 
fruit.  There  is  absolutely  no  need  of  any  other.  A 
pound  of  wheat  has  more  nutritious  value  than  three 
pounds  of  beef  or  mutton." 

We  give  it  as  our  opinion,  based  on  several  years' 
observation  and  practice,  that  a  large  proportion  of 
the  diseases  from  which  we  suffer  in  America  are 
caused  by  the  improper  use  of  food.  More  people 
suffer  from  derangements  of  the  digestive  organs  than 
any  other  class  of  diseases;  and  much  of  the  other 
ailments  with  which  we  suffer  are  indirectly  traceable 
to  the  same  source.  A  few  general  principles  on  this 
subject  may  be  stated,  which  if  observed  will  at  least 
prevent  much  trouble,  although  it  may  not  cure  a  dis- 
eased condition  already  established. 

We  therefore  advise  to  eat  sparingly  of  animal 
food;  avoid  hot  bread  or  "  rich  "  biscuit;  eat  a  variety 
of  vegetables,  cooked  in  the  simplest  manner;  avoid 
all  condiments,  sauces,  and  eat  sparingly  of  rich  pre- 
serves; eat  freely  of  both  dried  and  canned  fruits;  eat 
very  lightly  in  hot  weather;  drink  nothing  at  meal- 
time if  you  can  help  it;  drink  warm  rather  than  cold 
drinks  while  eating;  have  regular  hours  for  meals, 
and  do  not  eat  supper  later  than  three  hours  before 
you  lie  down  to  sleep;  stop  eating  entirely  when  you 
are  indisposed  or  worn  out  with  overwork  or  fatigue; 
eat  more  for  breakfast  and  dinner  than  at  supper; 
chew  your  food  very  thoroughly,  and  allow  nothing 
to  hurry  you  at  meal-time;  you  had  better  eat  less 


COMMON-  SENSE  AD  VICE.  797 

and  chew  it  well;  have  the  dining-room  warm  in  cold 
weather  while  eating;  clean  the  teeth  with  a  good 
stiff  brush  at  least  once  each  day;  adopt  the  plan  of 
starving  as  a  cure  for  all  slight  attacks  of  sickness. 

Hot  water  is  a  most  healthful  thing,  and  not  enough 
appreciated.  For  sickness  at  the  stomach,  flatulence, 
colic,  griping,  and  indigestion,  to  stop  eating  for  a  day 
or  two,  and  drink  nothing  but  very  hot  water,  with 
just  the  least  particle  of  salt  added,  is  the  best 
remedy.  It  is  very  highly  lauded  as  a  remedy  for 
chronic  dyspepsia,  and  is  perfectly  safe  in  all  condi- 
tions of  the  system.  And  a  hot  bath,  with  a  big 
sweat,  followed  by  a  sponge-bath  and  rubbing  of  the 
skin  until  it  is  in  a  glow,  followed  by  a  good  night's 
sleep,  in  which  the  body  is  warmly  covered  and  the 
feet  kept  warm  by  a  bottle  of -hot  water  or  a  hot 
brick,  will  always  cure  a  cold  if  "  taken  in  time."  Of 
course  there  must  be  a  cold  sponge-bath  and  a  good 
rubbing  in  the  morning,  before  going  out,  or  there 
will  be  more  cold  taken. 

We  strongly  recommond  the  following  advice: 
."Try  cranberries  for  malaria;  try  a  sun-bath  for 
rheumatism;  try  a  cranberry  poultice  for  erysipelas; 
try  swallowing  saliva  when  troubled  with  sour  stom- 
ach; try  fresh  radishes  and  yellow  turnips  for  gravel; 
try  eating  onions  and  horse-radish.to  relieve  dropsical' 
swellings;  try  buttermilk  for  the  removal  of  tan  and 
butternut  stains  and  freckles;  try  hot  flannel  over  the 
seat  of  neuralgic  pain,  and  renew  frequently;  try 
taking  a  nap  in  the  afternoon  if  you  are  going  to  be 
out  late  in  the  evening;  try  breathing  fumes  of  tur- 
pentine or  carbolic  acid  to  relieve  whooping  cough; 
try  a  cloth  wrung  out  from  cold  water  put  about  the 


798  MEDICAL  NOTES. 

neck  for  a  sore  throat;  try  an  extra  pair  of  stockings 
outside  of  your  shoes  when  traveling  in  cold  weather; 
try  walking  with  your  hands  behind  you  if  you  find 
yourself  becoming  bent  forward;  try  a  silk  handker- 
chief over  the  face  when  obliged  to  go  against  a  cold 
piercing  wind." 

Men  wear  out  sooner  by  worry  than  by  work. 
Work  is  healthful;  worry  is  ruinous.  A  gentle  horse 
may  pull  steadily  and  lustily  all  day,  and  have  a  good 
appetite  for  his  supper;  but  a  fretting  horse  may  balk 
and  prance  all  day,  pulling  nothing,  and  at  night  be 
without  either  strength  for  labor  or  relish  for  food. 

Somebody  gives  some  advice  how  to  choose  a  doc- 
tor. The  advice  is  as  good  for  the  doctor  as  for  the 
patient.     Here  it  is: 

"  First,  let  us  advise  you  to  avoid  the  drunken  doctor 
as  you  would  a  viper.  Avoid  the  mean  man,  for  you 
may  be  sure  he  v^^ill  be  a  mean  doctor,  just  as  cer- 
tainly as  he  would  make  a  mean  husband.  Avoid  a 
dishonest  man;  he  will  not  be  honest  with  you  as 
your  physician.  Shun  the  doctor  that  you  can  buy  to 
help  you  out  of  a  scrape;  a  good  doctor  cannot  be 
bought.  Avoid  the  untidy,  coarse,  blundering  fellow, 
for  the  man  who  is  clumsy  in  hitching  his  horse  you 
may  be  sure  is  not  handy  at  midwifery  or  surgery. 
Avoid  the  doctor  who  flatters  you,  and  humors  your 
lusts  and  appetites.  Avoid  the  man  who  puts  on  an 
extra  amount  of  airs;  be  assured  that  it  is  done  to 
cover  his  ignorance.  Avoid  the  empty  blow-horn 
who  boasts  of  his  numerous  cases,  and  tells  you  of 
his  seeing  forty  or  fifty  patients  a  day,  while  he  spends 
two  hours  to  convince  you  of  the  fact.  Put  him  down 
for  a  fool. 


COMMON-SENUE  AD  VICE.  799 

"To  be  a  doctor  one  must  first  be  a  man  in  the  true 
sense  of  the  word.  He  should  be  a  moral  man — 
honest  in  his  dealings.  He  must  have  good  sense,  or 
he  cannot  be  a  good  doctor.  He  should  be  strictly 
temperate.  No  one  should  trust  his  life  in  the  hands 
of  an  intemperate  doctor.  He  must  have  some  me- 
chanical genius,  or  it  is  impossible  for  him  to  be  a 
good  surgeon.  It  is  a  good  sign  if  he  tells  you  hovvr 
to  keep  w^ell.  It  is  a  good  sign  if  the  members  of  his 
own  family  respect  him.  It  is  a  good  sign  if  the  chil- 
dren like  him.  It  is  a  good  sign  if  he  is  neat  and 
handy  at  making  pills  and  folding  powders.  It  is  a 
good  sign  if  he  is  still  a  student,  and  keeps  posted  in 
all  the  latest  improvements  known  to  the  profession 
for  alleviating  human  suffering." 

While  the  practice  of  medicine  is  in  the  highest 
degree  an  art,  and  the  successful  practitioner  an  artist 
of  no  mean  ability,  yet  the  science  of  medicine  must 
be  carefully  studied.  A  surgeon  especially  has  to 
rely  upon  his  intuitions,  and  jump  at  conclusions  where 
he  can  get  small  reason  for  his  decision  oftentimes. 
It  is  related  of  a  captain  in  the  siege  of  Lucknow, 
India,  whose  leg  was  shattered  in  two  places,  and  all 
the  leading  surgeons  said  it  must  come  off,  that  he 
sent  for  his  regimental  surgeon,  a  man  of  inferior 
skill,  but  with  strong  affection  for  the  captain,  and  he 
said  the  leg  could  be  saved.  He  could  give  no  rea-' 
son;  it  was  contrary  to  the  laws  of  science  and  human 
probabilities,  but  he  felt  that  he  could  and  would  save 
his  friend's  leg,  and  he  did.  It  was  a  little  shorter 
than  the  other,  but  of  good  use. 

On  the  subject  of  caring  for  the  sick,  great  igno- 
rance prevails  throughout  the  land.     We   can    only 


800  MEDICAL  NOTES. 

touch  a  few  points  in  this  article.  Do  not  urge  a 
person  suffering  with  any  acute  disease  to  eat  what 
they  do  not  reUsh  or  desire;  do  not  cook  up  highly- 
seasoned  messes  for  them;  have  their  food  of  the 
simplest  character  and  the  easiest  to  digest,  even  aft- 
er they  begin  to  feel  quite  strong  and  ravenously 
hungry;  use  toasted  light-bread,  crackers  without 
lard,  rice,  oatmeal,  baked  Irish  potatoes,  and  as  they 
grow  stronger,  oysters  and  fresh  fish.  Really  the 
most  palatable,  easily  digested,  and  harmless  article 
of  food  for  a  very  sick  patient  is  a  nice  baked  Irish 
potato,  seasoned  with  a  little  salt,  eaten  quite  hot. 
Have  all  the  food  for  a  sick  person  quite  hot,  except 
the  cooked  grains,  such  as  rice,  oatmeal,  etc. 

Above  all  the  rest  that  you  do,  do  not  take  the  ad- 
vice and  try  the  remedy  of  every  neighbor  or  gossip 
that  calls.  When  you  have  a  physician  employed  fol- 
low his  instructions  closely  and  carefully,  and  do  not 
vary  them.  A  would-be  friend  will  advise  something 
else,  which  "will  do  no  harm  if  it  does  no  good;"  but 
of  this  you  cannot  judge,  for  it  may  entirely  upset 
and  counteract  all  the  remedies  your  physician  has 
prescribed.  Then  do  not  allow  parties  to  call  and 
weary  your  patient;  too  many  callers  have  killed 
many  persons  who  otherwise  could  have  recovered 
their  health.  When  any  one  is  low  and  feeble  he 
needs  rest  and  perfect  quiet,  and  the  absence  of  all 
excitement;  the  presence  of  gossipy  company  pre- 
vents this. 

We  cannot  do  better  in  closing  this  article  than  to 
quote  the  following  from  a  late  author: 

"  In  health  and  disease  endeavor  always  to  live  on 
the  sunny  side.     Sir  James  Wylie,  late  physician  to 


COMMON-SENSE  AD  VICE.  801 

the  Emperor  of  Russia,  remarked,  during  long  obser- 
vation in  the  hospitals  of  that  country,  that  the  cases 
of  death  occurring  in  rooms  averted  from  the  light 
of  the  sun  were  four  times  more  numerous  than  the 
fatal  cases  in  the  rooms  exposed  to  the  direct  action 
of  the  solar  rays.  When  poison  is  swallowed  a  good 
off-hand  remedy  is  to  mix  salt  and  mustard,  one 
heaped  teaspoonful  of  each,  in  a  glass  of  water,  and 
drink  immediately.  It  is  quick  in  its  operation.  Then 
give  the  whites  of  two  eggs  in  a  cup  of  coffee,  or 
the  eggs  alone  if  coffee  cannot  be  had.  For  acid 
poisons  give  alkaHes.  In  cases  of  opium  poisoning 
give  strong  coffee,  and  keep  moving.  For  light  burns 
or  scalds  dip  the  part  in  cold  water  or  in  flour;  if  the 
skin  is  destroyed,  cover  with  varnish.  If  you  fall  in 
the  water,  float  on  the  back  with  the  nose  and  mouth 
projecting.  For  apoplexy,  raise  the  head  and  body; 
for  fainting,  lay  the  person  flat  on  the  back.  Suck 
poisoned  wounds,  unless  your  mouth  is  sore;  enlarge 
the  wound,  or  better  cut  out  the  part  without  delay, 
cauterize  it  with  caustic,  the  end  .of  a  cigar,  or  a  hot 
coal.  If  an  artery  is  cut,  compress  above  the  wound; 
if  a  vein  is  cut,  compress  below.  If  choked,  get  up- 
on all-fours  and  cough.  Before  passing  through 
smoke  take  a  full  breath,  stoop  low,  then  go  ahead; 
but  if  you  fear  carbonic  acid  gas,  walk  erect  and  be 
careful. .  Smother  a  fire  with  blankets  or  carpets; 
water  tends  to  spread  burning  oil  and  increase  the 
danger.  Remove  dust  from  the  eyes  by  dashing  wa- 
ter into  them,  and  avoid  rubbing.  Remove  cinders, 
etc.,  with  a  soft,  smooth  wooden  point.  Preserve 
health  and  avoid  catching  cold  by  regular  diet,  healthy 
food,  and  cleanliness.  Sir  Astley  Cooper  said:  *Tlie 
51 


803  MEDICAL  NOTES. 

methods  by  which  I  have  preserved  my  own  health 
are  temperance,  early  rising,  and  sponging  the  body 
every  morning  with  cold  water  immediately  after  get- 
ting out  of  bed — a  practice  which  I  have  adopted  for 
thirty  years  without  ever  catching  cold."  Water  di- 
luted with  two  per  cent,  of  carbolic  acid  will  disinfect 
any  room  or  building  if  liberally  used  as  a  sprinkle. 
Diphtheria  can  be  cured  by  a  gargle  of  lemon-juice, 
swallowing  a  Httle  so  as  to  reach  all  the  affected  parts. 
To  avert  cold  from  the  feet,  wear  two  pairs  of  stock- 
ings made  of  different  fabrics,  one  pair  of  cotton  or 
silk,  the  other  of  wool,  and  the  natural  heat  of  the 
feet  will  be  preserved  if  the  feet  are  kept  clean.  In 
arranging  sleeping-rooms  the  soundest  and  most  re- 
freshing slumbers  will  be  enjoyed  when  the  head  is 
toward  the  north.  Late  hours  and  anxious  pursuits 
exhaust  vitality,  producing  disease  and  premature 
death,  therefore  the  hours  of  labor  and  study  should 
be  short.  Take  abundant  exercise  and  recreation. 
Be  moderate  in  eating  and  drinking,  using  simple  and 
plain  diet,  avoiding  strong  drink,  tobacco,  snuff,  opium, 
and  every  excess.  Keep  the  body  warm,  the  temper 
calm,  serene,  and  placid;  shun  idleness;  if  your  hands 
cannot  be  usefully  employed,  attend  to  the  cultivation 
of  your  minds.  For  pure,  health-giving,  fresh  air  go 
to  the  country.  Dr.  Stockton  Hough  asserts  that  if 
all  the  inhabitants  of  the  world  were  living  in  cities 
of  the  magnitude  of  London,  the  human  race  would 
become  extinct  in  a  century  or  two.  The  mean 
average  of  human  life  in  the  United  States  is  39  J^ 
years,  while  in  New  York  and  Philadelphia  it  is  only 
23  years;  about  fifty  per  cent,  of  the  deaths  in  these 
cities  being  of  children  under  five  years  of  age. 


MANAGEMENT  OF  CHILDREN.  803 

(Qanagbmbni'  op  ^hildi^bn. 


BY  DR.  DIO  LEWIS. 


Dress  Their  Arms. — Prominent  among  the  mischievous  blun- 
ders in  the  management  of  children  is  the  custom  of  leaving 
their  arms  bare.  A  baby's  arms  require  as  much  protection  a* 
its  body,  and  if  it  be  delicate  the  hands  may  be  protected;  they 
require  it  as  much  as  the  feet.  I  speak  of  the  dress  for  the 
damp  and  cold  seasons.  It  should  be  added  that  during  the 
cool  summer  evenings  too  much  care  cannot  be  exercised  in 
protecting  the  baby's  arms  and  shoulders.  If  the  mother  de- 
sires to  exhibit  her  darling's  beautiful  skin,  let  her  cut  out  a  bit 
of  the  dress  over  some  part  of  the  body,  and  when  the  neigh- 
bors come  in  let  her  show  the  skin  thus  exposed.  This  will 
do  but  little  harm,  but  in  the  case  of  the  arms  and  legs,  we  have 
parts  far  removed  from  the  lungs,  and  such  parts  require  special 
protection.  Take  the  glass  part  of  the  thermometer  out  of  the 
tin  frame,  and  put  the  bulb  in  your  baby's  mouth.  The  mer- 
cury rises  to  98.  Now,  on  a  cool  evening  place  the  same  bulb 
in  its  little  hand,  and  press  the  tiny  hand  about  it,  I  am  sup- 
posing it  has  naked  arms.  The  mercury  will  sink  to  60  or  less. 
Need  I  say  that  all  the  blood  which  has  to  make  its  way  through 
the  diminutive  and  tortuous  vessels  of  those  cold  arms  must  be- 
come cold?  And  need  I  add  that  as  the  cold  currents  of  blood 
come  from  both  arms  back  into  the  vital  organs,  they  play  the 
mischief  there.''  If  you  "would  preserve  your  child  from  croup, 
pneumonia,  and  a  score  of  other  grave  affections,  you  should 
keep  its  arms  warm.  A  thick  woolen  sleeve,  which  fits  the  lit- 
tle dimpled  arm  down  to  the  hand,  is  the  true  expedient. 

Their  Beds  and  Sleep. — The  baby  should  never  be  allowed  to 
sleep  in  the  bed  between  the  parents.  Several  objections  must 
occur  to  every  one.  I  need  name  but  one:  It  must,  when  thus 
placed,  constantly  inhale  the  poisonous  emanations  from  the 
bodies  of  the  parents.  It  should  sleep  by  the  side  of  tlie  moth- 
er's bed,  in  a  crib.  The  best  bed,  at  all  seasons  of  the  year,  is 
one  of  oat-straw.  The  straw  should  be  changed  and  the  tick 
washed  often.  During  the  cold  season  a  woolen  blanket  should 
be  spread  over  the  straw  bed  to  increase  the  warmth.     For 


804  MEDICAL  NOTES. 

covering  of  the  little  sleeper  woolen  blankets  should  alone  be 
used.     And  these  blankets  should  be  often  washed. 

The  Pillows  Should  he  Straw. — The  proximate  if  not  the  re- 
mote cause  of  a  large  proportion  of  deaths  among  children  is 
some  disease  of  the  head.  When  we  suppose  the  death  to  be 
caused  by  dysentery  or  cholera  infantum,  the  immediate  cause 
of  death  is  an  affection  of  the  brain  supervening  upon  the 
bowel  disease.  The  heads  of  American  children  are,  for  the 
most  part,  little  furnaces.  How  much  mischief  must  come 
from  keeping  them  buried  in  feather  pillows  twenty  hours  in 
every  twenty-four!  The  hair  pillow  is  not  so  good  as  straw, 
because  it  cannot,  like  the  straw,  be  made  clean  and  fresh.  Do 
not  fail  to  keep  their  little  heads  cool. 

The  Common  Baby-cap  used  in  the  house  increases  the  heat 
of  the  head,  and  if  worn  during  the  day  must  be  likewise  at 
night,  increasing  the  perspiration  about  its  head  and  neck,  and 
thus  increasing  susceptibility  to  cold,  ear-ache,  sore  eyes,  croup, 
and  other  kindred  affections.  Besides,  the  hair,  which  is  nat- 
ure's cap,  grows  better  when  no  artificial  covering  is  used. 

The  Old-fashioned  Cradle  is  an  Error. — The  emanations  from 
the  sleeper's  lungs  and  skin  should  be  allowed  to  escape  freely, 
which  the  close,  deep  cradle  makes  impossible.  The  crib,  with 
the  skeleton  sides,  is  just  the  thing.  During  the  greatest  heat 
of  summer  the  child  may  with  much  comfort  lie  on  the  naked 
canvas  which  is  stretched  across  the  bottom  of  the  crib;  and  if 
the  head  of  the  child  be  raised  a  little  on  the  same  canvas, 
which  is  easily  done  by  a  joint  in  the  frame- work  on  which  the 
canvas  is  nailed,  it  will  be  a  great  luxury  to  the  baby's  head. 
The  canvas  bottom,  with  a  fresh  sheet  and  a  soft  flannel  night- 
gown, makes  a  complete  bed  and  cover  for  the  hot  nights. 

Does  He  Kick  the  Bed-clothes  Off? — Then  fasten  them  on  the 
sides  of  the  crib.  This  can  be  done  by  tying  with  tapes,  or 
buttoning  on  to  little  knobs.  Then  the  little  chap  may  kick 
never  so  obstinately,  but  he  can't  uncover  himself. 

In  Dressing  a  Child's  Head,  it  is  a  bad  practice  to  use  a  comb. 
Dandruff  is  thereby  produced.  A  soft  brush  is  quite  enough 
A  frequent  washing  of  the  head  in  cold  water  is  excellent. 
Then  rubbing  it  with  a  towel  until  dry,  and  using  the  naked 
hand  for  awhile  in  gentle  friction,  will  finish  the  pleasant  task, 
leaving  hair  and  brain  improved. 


FOOD  FOR  THE  SICK-ROOM.  805 

Dress  Them  in  Woolen. — At  all  seasons  of  the  year  woolen  is 
the  best  dress — woolen  iliside  and  outside,  woolen  altogether. 
It  is  a  bad  conductor  of  heat,  and  secures  a  more  equable  tem- 
perature of  the  body,  which  is  the  great  object  of  dress.  The 
superiority  of  flannel  for  a  baby's  dress  is  much  greater  in  hot 
than  in  cold  weather.  A  baby  is  very  comfortable  in  the  warm- 
est days  with  a  single  garment  of  thin  soft  flannel,  while  if 
wearing  linen  or  cotton  the  garment  next  the  skin  is  soon  damp, 
and  outside  of  it  there  must  be  two  or  more  thicknesses  of  the 
same  to  furnish  the  protection  against  a  draught  which  a  single 
thickness  of  flannel  will  aflbrd.  Give  the  little  ones  flannel 
clothes  at  all  seasons  of  the  year.  Besides  the  considerations 
named,  woolen  serves  by  its  mechanical  irritation  to  keep  up  a 
better  circulation  in  the  skin. 

Frequent  Change  of  Clothes. — The  little  one  should  not  wear 
the  same  garment  next  the  skin  at  night  which  it  has  worn 
during  the  day,  and  if  its  night-gown  be  worn  more  than  one 
night  without  visiting  the  wash-room  it  should  be  hung  up  to 
be  thoroughly  aired  during  the  day,  and  if  possible  in  the  sun. 
The  clothes  which  have  been  worn  during  the  day,  if  to  be 
worn  the  following  day,  should  be  hung  up  during  the  night 
where  they  may  be  well  aired. 

Food  poi^  thb  Sigi^-i^oom. 

From  an  interesting  paper  on  this  subject  in  the  Christian 
Union,  by  Miss  E.  R.  Scovil,  of  the  Massachusetts  General 
Hospital,  we  cull  the  following  hints  and  I'ecipes: 

The  pure  juice  may  be  extracted  from  beef  in  two  ways: 
First,  by  cutting  the  meat  in  small  pieces,  putting  them  in  a 
tightly-corked  bottle,  immersing  it  in  hot  water,  and  boiling  for 
several  hours.  Second,  by  taking  a  thick  piece  of  juicy  steak, 
broiling  it  on  a  gridiron  over  a  clear  fire  for  a  few  moments, 
then  cutting  it  in  strips  and  pressing  it  in  a  lemon-squeezer. 
The  juice  thus  obtained  may  be  given  either  cold  or  hot.  It 
may  be  frozen,  broken  into  lumps,  and  given  like  cracked  ice. 
A  little  salt  should  be  added  before  using. 

An  invalid  who  is  tired  of  hot  beef-tea  will  sometimes  drink 
it  cold  or  iced  with  great  relish.  Enough  isinglass  or  gelatine 
may  be  added  to  the  juice  to  make  a  jelly,  which  can  be  flavored 


806  MEDICAL  NOTES. 

with  sherry,  essence  of  celery,  or  any  thing  the  patient  may 
fancy.  ' 

Raw  meat  is  very  nutritious,  and  may  be  prepared  by  shred- 
ding the  beef  extremely  fine,  removing  every  particle  of  skin 
and  fat,  and  mixing  it  with  cracker  crumbs.  A  little  salt  and 
pepper  may  be  added,  and  the  mixture  rolled  into  tiny  balls. 

In  convalescence  after  typhoid  fever  the  greatest  care  is  nec- 
essary with  regard  to  the  food,  and  no  new  article  of  diet 
should  be  given  without  the  express  permission  of  the  doctor. 
Even  so  slight  an  imprudence  as  eating  a  raw  apple  has  been 
known  to  cause  death. 

While  roasted,  boiled,  and  broiled  chicken,  mutton-chop,  and 
beefsteak  have  long  held  a  recognized  position  in  the  invalid's 
bill  of  fare,  the  merits  of  a  veal  sweet-bread  have  been  sadly 
overlooked.  When  properly  cooked  it  is  a  delicious  dish,  and 
may  tempt  a  capricious  appetite  that  has  grown  weary  of  other 
viands.  A  sweet-bread  should  be  parboiled  for  a  short  tiine 
until  quite  soft,  and  then  fried  in  a  little  butter  to  a  delicate 
brown.     It  may  be  served  with  gravy  or  white  sauce. 

Port  wine  jelly  may  sometimes  be  given  where  the  wine  itself 
would  disgust.  Dissolve  half  an  ounce  of  gelatine  in  three 
tablespoonfuls  of  water;  add  a  little  white  sugar,  and  nutmeg 
or  cinnamon  if  the  taste  is  liked;  let  it  melt  over  a  gentle  heat; 
put  in  five  glassfuls  of  port,  and  stir  constantly  for  ten  minutes. 
Strain  it  into  a  mold  moistened  with  cold  water.  A  piece  as 
large  as  an  e^g  should  be  eaten  two  or  three  times  a  day. 

Delicious  oatmeal  gruel  may  be  made  by  stirring  a  cupful  of 
oatmeal  into  a  bowl  of  water,  allowing  it  to  stand  for  a  few 
minutes  until  the  coarsest  particles  have  fallen  to  the  bottom, 
pouring  off  the  water,  and  repeating  this  once  or  twice.  The 
water  must  then  be  boiled,  stirring  it  constantly  until  it  is  suffi- 
ciently cooked. 

Few  persons  understand  properly  the  art  of  making  lemon- 
ade. The  lemon  should  first  be  rolled  between  the  hands  until 
it  is  quite  soft,  the  skin  removed  with  a  sharp  knife,  and  every 
pip  extracted,  the  lemon  being  held  over  a  tumbler  that  no 
juice  may  be  lost  in  the  operation.  The  pulp  should  then  be 
divided  into  small  pieces  and  the  sugar  thoroughly  mixed  with 
it.  Last  of  all  the  requisite  amount  of  water  should  be  added 
to  it.     Orangeade  may  be  made  in  the  same  way  as  lemonade, 


TRAINED  NURSES'  METHODS.  807 

using  less  sugar.  They  both  should  be  iced.  Imperial  drink 
is  made  by  adding  a  small  teaspoonful  of  cream  of  tartar,  dis- 
solved in  boiling  water,  to  each  pint  of  lemonade. 

In  some  diseases  it  is  impossible  to  give  any  thing  containing 
acid,  and  then  the  ingenuity  of  the  nurse  is  tested  to  provide 
some  beverage  at  once  cooling  and  palatable.  Iced  tea  and 
coffee  are  excellent  when  they  are  liked,  and  may  be  taken 
either  with  or  without  milk.  Barley  water  is  made  by  boiling 
two  ounces  of  pearl  barley,  previously  well  washed,  for  twenty 
minutes  in  a  pint  and  a  half  of  water.  It  is  then  strained  and 
flavored  with  lemon  peel  and  sugar  to  taste.  This  may  be  alter- 
nated with  flaxseed  tea.  Steep  half  an  ounce  of  unbruised 
flaxseed  in  a  pint  of  boiling  water.  Let  it  stand  in  a  covered 
jar  near  a  fire  for  three  or  four  hours;  then  strain  and  flavor. 

©I^AINED   nUI^SES'   fflEiUHODS. 

Dr.  Jacobi,  in  an  address  before  the  Mount  Sinai  Training 
School  for  Nurses,  said  a  well-trained  nurse  ought  to  teach 
"how  to  bathe,  when,  and  when  to  stop;  how  to  regulate  the 
position  of  the  head  when  there  is  any  inflammation  of  the 
brain;  how  to  treat  an  attack  of  fainting;  how  to  render  cow's 
milk  digestible;  how  to  feed  in  case  of  diarrhoea;  how  to  refuse 
food  in  case  of  vomiting;  how  to  apply  cold  to  the  head,  and 
when  to  remove  it,  and  a  hundred  other  things." 

It  may  be  well  for  us  to  present  some  hints  on  these  some- 
what disconnected  points  for  the  benefit  of  the  reader. 

As  to  bathing,  don't  bathe  when  overheated,  when  exhausted, 
when  the  stomach  is  empty,  nor  soon  after  eating,  nor  at  all  in 
any  cold  sea-water  when  there  is  any  serious  disease  of  the 
hejirt.  In  every  case,  especially  if  feeble,  stop  before  the  body 
becomes  chilled.  Bathing  is  always  harmful  if  not  followed  by 
a  good  glow  when  the  surface  is  wiped  and  rubbed. 

The  head  should  be  raised  and  propped  up  when  there  is  in- 
flammation of  the  brain.  Jacobi  tells  how  a  case  of  inflamma- 
tory delirium  was  always  relieved  in  this  simple  way.  The 
blood  flows  to  the  head  more  readily  in  a  recumbent  posture. 

In  all  cases  of  fainting,  on  the  other  hand,  lay  the  patient  flat 
on  his  back.  The  fainting  is  due  to  the  heart's  not  sending  suf- 
ficient blood  to  the  brain,  and  a  horizontal  posture  will  generally 
relieve  the  patient  at  once.     When  fainting  is  due  to  loss  of 


808  'MEDICAL  NOTES. 

blood,  let  the  head  hang  over  the  side  of  the  bed.  If  one's 
heart  is  very  weak  from  fever  or  some  other  disease,  death  often 
occurs  from  the  patient  being  allow^ed  to  get  up. 

Cow's  milk,  when  fed  to  infants  or  to  the  sick,  should  be 
boiled  and  salted  and  mixed  with  lime-water — say  two  table- 
spoonfuls  to  a  pint.  The  boiling  kills  the  bacteria  in  it  and  the 
lime-water  prevents  its  coagulating  into  a  solid  mass  and  checks 
the  tendency  to  become  acid  in  the  bowels. 

In  diarrhcea  the  food  should  contain  as  little  as  possible  of  re- 
fuse matter,  and  should  be  such  as  is  mainly  digested  in  the 
stomach  and  upper  part  of  the  intestines;  hence  nothing  is  bet- 
ter than  boiled  milk  (with  lime-water)  and  light,  starchy  food. 
It  should  be  remembered  that  in  most  forms  of  diarrhoea  the 
lining  membrane  of  the  bowels  is  inflamed,  and  needs  all  the 
rest  it  can  possibly  have.  Diarrhoea  from  weakness  of  the 
bowels  is  of  a  different  character,  and  must  be  treated  by  the 
physician. 

Vomiting  may  proceed  from  inflammation  of  the  stomach, 
irritability  of  its  nerves,  improper  food,  or  sympathy  with 
some  remote  disturbed  function.  The  true  cause  of  the  diffi- 
culty must  be  ascertained  and  attended  to.  Meanwhile  food 
will  only  do  harm. 

Uses  op  (shaf^goali. 

Charcoal  laid  flat,  while  cold,  on  a  burn  causes  the  pain  to 
abate  immediately;  by  leaving  it  on  for  an  hour  the  burn  seems 
almost  healed  when  the  burn  is  superficial.  And  charcoal  is 
valuable  for  many  other  purposes.  Tainted  meat  surrounded 
with  it  is  sweetened;  strewn  over  heaps  of  decomposed  pelts, 
or  over  dead  animals,  it  prevents  any  unpleasant  odor.  Foul 
water  is  purified  by  it.  It  is  a  great  disinfectant,  and  sweetens 
offensive  air  if  placed  in  trays  around  apartments.  It  is  so  very 
porous  in  its  "minute  interior"  it  absorbs  and  condenses  gases 
most  rapidly.  One  cubic  inch  of  fresh  charcoal  will  absorb 
nearly  one  hundred  of  gaseous  ammonia.  Charcoal  forms  an 
unrivaled  poultice  for  malignant  wounds  and  sores,  often  cor- 
roding away  dead  flesh,  reducing  it  to  one-quarter  in  six  hours. 
In  cases  of  what  we  call  proud  flesh  it  is  invaluable.  It  gives 
no  disagreeable  odor,  corrodes  no  metal,  hurts  no  texture,  injures 
no  color,  is  a  simple  and  safe  sweetener  and  disinfectant.     A 


HEALTH  HINTS.  809 

teaspoonful  of  charcoal  in  half  a  glass  of  water  often  relieves  a 
sick  headache.  It  absorbs  the  gases  and  relieves  the  distended 
stomach  pressing  against  the  nerves  which  extend  from  the 
stomach  to  the  head.  It  often  relieves  constipation,  pain,  or 
heartburn. 

r^iNTs  TO  ©HOSE  Calling  Upon  the  Sigi^. 

1.  Only  call  at  the  door,  unless  you  are  sure  your  friend  is 
able  to  see  you  without  harm. 

2.  Enter  and  leave  the  house  and  move  about  the  room 
quietly. 

3.  Carry  a  cheerful  face  and  speak  cheerful  words,  but  you 
need  tell  no  lies  to  be  cheerful. 

4.  If  your  friend  is  very  sick,  do  not  fall  into  gay  and  care- 
less talk  in  the  attempt  to  cheer  him. 

5.  Don't  ask  questions,  and  thus  oblige  your  friend  to  talk. 

6.  Talk  about  something  outside,  and  not  about  the  diseases 
and  circumstances  of  the  patient. 

7.  Tell  the  news,  but  not  the  list  of  the  sick  and  dying. 

8.  Never  whisper  in  the  sick-room. 

9.  If  possible,  carry  with  you  something  to  please  the  eye 
atid  to  relieve  the  monotony  of  the  sick-room — a  flower,  or 
even  a  picture,  which  you  can  leave  for  a  few  days. 

10.  If  desirable,  some  little  delicacy  to  tempt  the  appetite 
will  be  well  bestowed,  but  it  is  most  unkind  kindness  to  tempt 
the  sick  to  eat  too  much  of  rich  cakes,  preserves,  sweetmeats, 
etc. 

r^EALTH   r^INiPS. 

Never  go  to  bed  with  cold  or  damp  feet.  In  going  into  a 
colder  air  keep  the  mouth  resolutely  closed,  that  by  compelliHg 
the  air  to  pass  circuitously  through  the  nose  and  head,  it  may 
become  warmed  before  it  reaches  the  lungs,  and  thus  prevent 
those  shocks  and  sudden  chills  which  frequently  end  in  pleurisy, 
pneumonia,  and  other  serious  forms  of  disease.  Never  sleep 
with  the  head  in  the  draft  of  an  open  window.  Let  more  cover- 
ing be  on  the  lower  limbs  than  on  the  body.  Have  an  extra 
covering  within  easy  reach,  in  case  of  a  sudden  and  great 
change  of  weather  during  the  night.  Never  stand  still  a  mo- 
ment out-of-doors,  especially  at  a  street  corner,  after  having 
walked  even  a  short  distance. 


810  medical  notes. 

Oyei^woi^i^bd  Stomachs. 

The  tongue  is  an  unruly  member  in  more  than  one  sense — 
that  is,  if  the  pun  may  be  pardoned,  in  the  sense  of  taste  as 
well  as  in  bringing  us  into  trouble  through  the  power  of  speech. 
We  enjoy  the  taste  of  food,  and  we  are  thus  led  to  indulge  in 
the  pleasure  of  eating  what  excites  the  palate  rather  than  what 
is  wholesome  and  nutritious.  But  our  stomachs  are  wonderful 
organs,  and  it  is  only  when  they  are  driven  to  work  which  they 
absolutely  cannot  perform  that  they  rebel. 

The  modern  habit  of  human  feeding,  and  its  evil  conse- 
quences, have  rarely  been  better  described  than  they  are  by 
Dr.  Felix  Oswald,  an  ardent  champion  of  the  theory  that  Nat- 
ure will  keep  us  well,  and  will  cure  us  when  we  accidentally 
,  fall  ill,  if  we  only  give  her  a  chance  to  work: 

"To  the  alcoholic  stimulants  of  the  ancients  we  have  added 
tea,  coffee,  tobacco,  absinthe,  chloral,  opium,  and  many  pungent 
spices.  Every  year  increases  the  number  of  our  elaborately 
unwholesome  made-dishes,  and  decreases  our  devotion  to  the 
field-sports  that  helped  our  forefathers  to  digest  their  boar-steaks. 

"We  have  no  time  to  masticate  our  food;  we  bolt  it,  and 
grumble  if  we  cannot  bolt  it  smoking  hot.  The  competition 
of  our  domestic  and  public  kitchens  tempts  us  to  eat  three  full 
meals  a  day,  and  two  of  them  at  a  time  when  the  exigencies  of 
our  business  routine  leave  us  no  room  for  digestion.  At  night, 
when  the  opportunity  for  that  leisure  arrives,  we  counteract  the 
efforts  of  the  digestive  apparatus  by  hot  stove-fires  and  stifling 
bed-rooms.  That  persistence  has  at  last  exhausted  the  self- 
regulating  resources  of  our  digestive  organs.  But  even  after 
such  provocations  the  stomach  does  not  strike  work  without 
repeated  warnings. 

"The  first  omen  of  the  wrath  to  come  is  the  morning  languor, 
the  hollow-eyed  lassitude,  which  proves  that  the  arduous  labor 
of  the  assimilative  organs  has  made  the  night  tKe  most  fatiguing 
part  of  the  twenty-four  hours.  The  expression  of  the  face  be- 
comes haggard  and  sallow.  The  tongue  feels  gritty,  the  palate 
parched,  in  spite  of  the  restless  activity  of  the  salivary  glands, 
which  every  now  and  then  try  to  respond  to  the  appeals  of  the 
distressed  stomach.  Gastric  acidity  betrays  itself  by  many  dis- 
agreeable symptoms;  loss  of  appetite,  however,  marks  a  later 


INSANITY.  811 

stage  of  the  malady.  For  years  the  infinite  patience  of  Nature 
labors  every  night  to  undo  the  mischief  of  every  day,  and  be- 
fore noon  the  surfeited  organs  again  report  ready  for  duty." 

Insanity. 

Statistics  show,  says  a  New  York  writer,  that  the  number  of 
insane  in  this  country  increases  in  a  greater  ratio  than  does  our 
population.     This  is  due  not  only  to  the  greater  strain  on  the 
mind  caused  by  the  fierce  strife  of  modern  life,  but  is  largely 
occasioned  by  the  swarms  of  insane  persons  who  are  sent  here 
from  Europe.     By  the  census  of  1850  the  number  of  persons 
reported  as  insane  was   15,610,  of  whom  2,049   were   foreign 
born.     The  great  flood  of  immigration  was  then  just  fairly  be- 
ginning, the  Irish  famine  of  '46  and  the  German  revolutions  of 
'48  being  powerful  moving  causes.     At  this  point  one-seventh 
of  the  insanity  of  the  country  was  to  be  found  among  the  alien 
one-tenth  of  the  population.     In   i860,  23,999  insane  persons 
were  reported,  of  whom  5,768  were  foreign  born.     Thus  one- 
fourth  of  the  reported  insanity  was  of  foreign  origin,  though 
the  foreign-born  population  had  only  increased  to  one-eighth 
of  the  whole.     In  1870  37,432  insane  persons  were  reported,  of 
"whom  11,221  were  of  foreign  birth.     Thus,  although  the  for- 
eign-born population  had  only  increased  to  one-seventh  of  the 
whole,  the  foreign  born  among  the  insane  had  increased  to  a 
ratio  of  nearly  one-third.     The  census  of  1880  showed  an  enor- 
mous increase  in  insanity,  which  is  ascribed  largely  to  the  fact 
that  the  census  was  by  far  the  most  accurate  yet  taken.     But 
even  in  this  the  proportion  of  foreign  born  to  the  whole  num- 
ber of  insane  was  well  preserved — 26,346  out  of  91,997.     Less 
than  one-seventh  of  the  population,  but  more  than  one-fourth 
and  nearly  one-third  of  the  insane,  were  of  foreign  birth.    This 
is  a  matter  which  Congress  should  investigate  and  correct  by 
appropriate  legislation.     It  is  monstrous  that  foreign  govern- 
ments should  send  their  insane  poor  to  this  country.     A  crazy 
person  is  a  dangerous  one,  and  society  is  bound  to  protect  itself 
from  the  peril  due  to  the  increase  in  the  number  of  lunatics. 
The  most  dreadful  tragedies  of  the  day  are  due  to  insanity. 
Crazy  people  should  not  only  be  isolated,  but  they  should  not 
be  allowed  to  marry  or  have  families,  as  this  terrible  disease  is 
hereditary. 


812  MEDICAL  NOTES. 

©HLOI^AL  AND   Bl^OMIDB  OP   I^OTASSIUM. 

Again  we  have  to  record  with  deep  regret  a  sad  proof  that 
those  who  give  or  take  chloral  or  bromide  of  potassium  for 
sleeplessness  are  guilty  of  a  deplorable  error  and  a  grievous 
wrong.  The  narcotics  which  produce  sleep  also  deprave  the 
higher  nerve  centers,  enfeeble  the  controlling  powers  of  the 
will,  and  leave  the  mind  a  prey  to  the  depressing  influence  of 
a  conscious  loss  of  self-respect  and  self-confidence.  The  cult- 
ured mind  feels  the  ignominy  of  the  intellectual  and  moral  de- 
preciation with  great  acuteness,  and  in  the  end  succumbs  to  the 
sense  of  powerlessness  to  recover  self-control  and  do  right. 
The  depravation  wrought  is  purely  physical.  The  baneful  influ- 
ence of  the  lethal  drug  isj  so  to  say,  organic.  The  essential 
elements  of  the  nerve  tissues  are  blighted  by  the  stupefying 
poison,  as  by  alcohol  in  habitual  drunkenness.  In  short,  the 
recourse  to  chloral  and  bromide  is  precisely  the  same  thing,  as 
recourse  to  alcohol.  The  man  or  woman  sent  to  "  sleep  " — the 
mocking  semblance  of  physiological  rest — by  a  dose  of  either 
of  these  narcotizers  is  simply  intoxicated.  No  wonder  that 
habitual  drunkenness  of  this  class  first  impairs  and  then  destroys 
the  vitality  of  the  mind  organ,  and  places  the  subject  of  a  mis- 
erable artifice  at  the  mercy  of  his  emotional  nature,  and  makes 
him  the  creature  of  his  passions.  When  will  the  public  awake 
to  the  recognition  of  facts  with  regard  to  these  most  pernicious 
of  stupefacients?  Persistence  in  recourse  to  them  has  no  bet- 
ter excuse  than  unwillingness  to  search  out  the  cause  of  the 
"  wakefulness  "  which  prevents  natural  sleep. 

^AUSK  OP  Pneumonia. 

Pneumonia,  with  rare  exceptions,  extends  from  the  lungs  to 
the  lining  membrane  of  the  chest  (pleural),  and  hence  is  really 
pleuro-pneumonia.  Its  seat  is  npt  the  mucous  membrane  of  the 
bronchial  tubes,  as  is  that  of  bronchitis;  nor  the  general  sub- 
stance of  the  lungs,  as  is  that  of  lung  fever,  but  the  air  cells 
and  the  neighboring  minute  tubes  (bronchioles)  which  are 
wholly  destitute  of  a  mucous  membrane.  Sometimes  it  is 
almost  an  epidemic.  It  often  attacks  more  than  one  member 
of  the  family. 

Pleuro-pneumonia  among  horses  is  a  very  contagious  disease, 


SEQUELS  OF  DISEASE.  813 

and  has  sometimes  gone  through  the  land,  bringing  ordinary 
business  to  a  stand-still. 

What  is  the  cause  of  pneumonia?  One  medical  writer  says 
that  "  neither  colds,  bronchitis,  pleurisy,  asthma,  nor  any  other 
lung  affection  induces  it;  that,  in  a  large  proportion  of  cases,  it 
is  not  referable  to  any  obvious  causative  agency,  that  when  it 
appears  to  follow  exposure  to  a  cold,  it  is  probable  that  this  acts 
only  as  an  exciting  cause,  co-operating  with  the  action  of  a 
special  cause." 

What  is  this  special  cause?  This  question  has  received  no 
answer  until  recently.  German  investigators  of  the  highest 
character  believe  they  have  at  length  found  it  in  a  microscopic 
parasite,  thus  placing  pneumonia  among  the  germ  diseases. 
The  parasites  are  oval,  generally  go  in  pairs,  and,  unlike  all 
others,  inclose  themselves — several  together — in  a  capsule. 

On  cultivating  them  out  of  the  body,  insulating  them  in  a 
fluid,  and  injecting  a  little  of  the  fluid  into  thirty-two  mice,  all 
of  thfe  mice  died,  in  from  eighteen  to  forty  hours,  of  pneumonia, 
while  the  blood  showed  the  peculiar  parasites  with  their  char- 
acteristic capsules.  Experiments  by  means  of  inhalation  ex- 
hibited the  same  results.  Different  investigators  seem  to  have 
confirmed  the  discovery. 

Later  experiments  show  that  the  lungs  of  animals  \vhich  have 
died  of  pleuro-pneumonia  contain  the  same  parasites  in  large 
numbers,  and  that  the  disease  is  essentially  the  same  with  pneu- 
monia in  man. 

Sequels  op  Disease. 

A  disease  is  often  followed  by  other  diseases-^one  or  more — 
resulting  directly  or  indirectly  from  the  first  sickness.  Some- 
times these  come  from  the  debility  that  caused  the  first  disease, 
whereby  inherited  or  other  tendencies  gain  power  to  develop 
themselves.  Thus  malaria,  a  fever,  diphtheria,  or  even  a  severe 
cold,  may  give  rise  to  consumption — which  might  otherwise 
have  been  delayed  for  years,  or,  perhaps  with  care,  wholly 
escaped. 

Sometimes  these  secondary  diseases  are  due  more  directly  to 
the  primary  disease.  They  are  then  caused  either  by  the  de- 
structive effects  of  the  first  sickness,  at  different  points  of  the 
system,  or  by  the  clogging  of  the  eliminating  organs  with  great 


814  MEDICAL  NOTES. 

quantities  of  debris,  or  by  the  inflammation  of  these  organs 
through  the  stress  put  on  them  by  the  excessive  work  of  elimi- 
nation. It  is  to  these  sequels  of  disease  that  physicians  apply 
the  word  "  sequelae."  They  are  often  more  dangerous  than  the 
original  disease. 

One  of  the  familiar  sequelas  of  measles  is  inflammation  of 
the  eyes,  sometimes  of  a  very  persistent  kind.  Another  is  con- 
sumption. 

A  frequent  sequela  of  diphtheria  is  paralysis,  which  may  last 
for  a  year  or  more.  That  of  typhoid  fever  is  sometimes  a  con- 
gested condition  of  the  bowels — the  latter  not  fully  healing 
from  the  ulcers  that  characterize  the  fever.  The  patient  should 
not  therefore  dismiss  the  doctor  too  soon. 

One  of  the  sequelae  of  scarlet  fever  is  rheumatism.  And  as 
the  later  often  gives  rise  to  heart-complaint  and  pleurisy,  so 
these  last  are  also  among  the  sequelae  of  scarlet  fever.  They 
may  come  on  either  during  the  progress  of  the  disease,  or  dur- 
ing convalescence.  They  may  even  be  overlooked  at  th6  time 
to  reveal  themselves — especially  heart -complaint  —  perhaps 
years  later. 

Still  another  sequelse  is  kidney  complaints — chronic  or  acute 
— and  varying  from  slight  inflammation  up  to  Bright's  disease. 
A  child  mdy  have  had  a  mild  attack  of  scarlet  fever  and  be 
wholly  over  it,  apparently  doing  well,  yet  suddenly  die  from 
total  inaction  of  the  kidneys. 

The  ablest  physician  may  not  be  able  to  prevent  such  a  re- 
sult; but  he,  and  he  alone,  is  aware  of  the  hidden  rocks,  and 
any  thoughtful  person  can  see  that  it  is  vastly  safer  to  let  him 
pilot  the  case. 

©Lfl^PENTINB. 

The  Scientific  American  says:  "  Let  any  one  who  has  an  attack 
of  the  locked-jaw  take  a  small  quantity  of  turpentine,  warm  it, 
and  pour  it  on  the  wound,  no  matter  where  the  wound  is,  and 
relief  will  follow  in  less  than  a  minute.  Nothing  better  can  be 
applied  to  a  severe  cut  or  bruise  than  cold  turpentine.  It  will 
give  certain  relief  almost  instantly.  Turpentine  is  also  a  sov- 
ereign remedy  for  croup.  Saturate  and  place  the  flannel  on  the 
throat  and  chest,  and  in  every  case  three  or  four  drops  on  a 
lump  of  sugar  may  be  taken  inwardly." 


TREATMENT  OF  TOOTHACHE.  815 

SUF^PENTINB  AND  ^AI^BOLIG  fiGID. 

The  Medical  Record  tells  us  that  H.  Vilantlt  writes  in  the 
Ugeskrift  for  Laeger  concerning  the  value  of  the  oil  of  turpen- 
tine in  the  treatment  and  prophylaxis  of  diphtheria  and  the 
exanthematous  diseases.  He  states  that  he  has  never  seen  any 
of  these  diseases  spread  from  a  sick  child  to  other  members  of 
the  family  when  this  remedy  was  employed.  In  many  of  his 
cases  no  isolation  could  be  attempted,  as  the  mother  was  the 
only  female  in  the  family,  and  was  obliged  to  take  care  of  both 
the  sick  and  the  well,  continually  passing  back  and  forth  from 
one  to  the  other.  His  method  was  to  pour  from  twenty  to  forty 
drops  of  a  mixture  of  equal  parts  of  turpentine  and  carbolic 
acid  into  a  kettle  of  water,  which  was  kept  simmering  over  a 
slow  fire,  so  that  the  air  of  the  sick-room  was  constantly  im- 
pregnated with  the  odor  of  these  two  substances.  He  claims 
also  that  by  this  means  a  favorable  influence  is  exerted  upon 
the  exudation  in  diphtheria,  although  it  is  by  no  means  curative 
of  the  disease,  and  should  never  be  relied  upon  to  the  exclusion 
of  other  remedies. 

©F^BATMENIi   OP  SOOTHAGHB. 

The  Popular  Science  News  recommends  that  those  suffering 
from  toothache  would  do  well  to  follow  this  advice,  as  it  is 
founded  upon  actual  experience:  For  ordinary  nervous  tooth- 
ache, which  is  caused  by  the  nervous  system  being  out  of  order 
or  by  excessive  fatigue,  a  very  hot  bath  will  so  soothe  the  nerves 
that  sleep  will  naturally  follow,  and,  upon  getting  up,  the  pa- 
tient will  feel  very  much  refreshed,  and  the  toothache  will  be  a 
thing  of  the  past.  For  what  is  known  as  "jumping"  tooth- 
ache, hot,  dry  flannel  applied  to  the  face  and  neck  is  very  effect- 
ive. For  common  toothache,  which  is  caused  by  indigestion, 
or  by  strong,  sweet  acid,  or  any  thing  very  hot  or  cold  in  a  de- 
cayed tooth,  a  little  piece  of  cotton  steeped  in  strong  camphor 
or  oil  of  cloves  is  the  best  remedy. 

Nature  is  very  much  like  a  shiftless  child  who  the  more  he 
is  helped  the  more  he  looks  for  it.  The  more  medicine  a  man 
takes  the  more-he  will  have  to  take,  whether  it  be  anodyne, 
tonic,  or  alterative. 


816  MEDICAL  NOTES. 

(iONSUMPiTION. 

The  eminent  physician,  Dr.  FeHx  L.  Oswald,  in  the  course 
of  an  article  in  the  Popular  Science  Monthly  upon  "The  Reme- 
dies of  Nature,"  with  an  application  to  the  cure  or  alleviation 
of  consumption,  lays  down  a  generic  principle  broad  enough, 
as  it  would  seem,  to  be  the  foundation  of  a  new  system  of  med- 
icine. It  is  to  the  effect  that  nature  always  tries  to  relieve  itself, 
and  that  the  sensory  symptoms  attending  the  process  of  recon- 
struction are  in  reality  a  plea  for  non-interference;  hence  the 
best  way  to  assist  nature  is  to  forbear  from  meddling  with  the 
restorative  processes  and  to  seek  to  remove  the  predisposing 
cause.  In  his  own  words:  "There  is  a  strong  upward  and 
healthward  tendency  in  the  constitution  of  every  living  organ- 
ism. Nature's  revenge  is  but  an  enforced  condition  of  peace. 
Pain,  discomfort,  and  even  the  premature  loss  of  organic  vigor 
are  the  attendant  symptoms  of  a  reconstructive  process,  and 
their  permanence  is  a  presumptive  proof  that,  in  spite  of  such 
admonitions,  the  process  is  a  struggle  against  a  permanent  ob- 
stacle, or  a  constantly-repeated  frusti'ation  of  its  efforts." 

It  is  this  general  rule  that  Dr.  Oswald  applied  to  the  treat- 
ment of  consumption,  evidently  singling  out  that  disease  be- 
cause it  is  the  most  terrible  destroyer  of  human  life,  even  as 
compared  with  the  alcohol  habit  and  the  diseases  that  grow  out 
of  it.  His  statistics  prove  that  the  proportion  of  deaths  from 
the  latter  cause,  compared  with  deaths  from  pulmonary  con- 
sumption, is  as  three  and  a  half  to  ten  in  Northern  Eui'ope,  and 
as  four  to  ten  in  the  United  States  and  Canada.  Tubercular 
consumption  alone  claims  a  yearly  aggregate  of  90,000  lives  in 
the  United  States,  110,000  in  Great  Britain  and  Ireland,  80,000 
in  France,  105,000  in  European  Russia,  and  82,000  in  Northern 
Germany.  It  is  another  peculiarity  of  the  disease  that  it  selects 
its  victims  from  the  industrial  classes.  "North  or  South,  East 
or  West,"  says  Dr.  Oswald,  "the  death-rate  from  lung  diseases 
is  found  to  bear  an  exact  proportion  to  the  percentage  of  the 
inhabitants  habitually  engaged  in  sjedentary  and  in-door  occupa- 
tions. Towns  suffer  more  than  the  rural  districts,  cities  more 
than  pountry  towns,  manufacturing  more  than  commercial  and 
semi-agricultural  cities,  weaver  towns  more  than  foundry  towns." 
In  this  quality  and  locality  of  the  diseases  was  found  the  error 


CONSUMPTION.  817 

of  the  theory  that  ascribed  consumption  to  the  influence  of  low 
temperature.  On  the  other  hand,  it  is  declared  (o  be  a  house 
disease,  and  this  Dr.  Oswald  proves  by  numerous  illustrations, 
showing  that  in  non-manufacturing  regions  a  low  temperature 
is  a  protection  against  puhiionary  disease,  and  that  cold  sections 
of  a  country  are  remarkably  free  from  it,  while  on  the  other 
hand  it  is  abundant  where  vitiated  air  is  constantly  breathed,  or 
where  in  cities  large  numbers  of  persons  are  confined  to  in-door 
occupations. 

Dr.  Oswald's  theory  does  not  conflict  with  the  parasite  theory 
of  Dr.  Koch,  for  he  claims  that  vitiated  air,  or  air  breathed  over 
and  over  again,  fills  the  lungs  with  indigestible  elements,  which 
gradually  accumulate  until  they  corrupt  the  tissues  and  favor 
the  development  of  parasites.  But,  says  Dr.  Oswald,  "  cease 
to  feed  the  lungs  with  azotic  gases,  and  Dr.  Koch's  animalculae 
will  starve  and  disappear  as  surely  as  maw-worms  will  starve 
and  disappear  if  we  change  a  pork  and  sauer-kraut  diet  for 
bread  and  apples."  Dr.  Oswald,  therefore,  lays  it  down  as  cer- 
tain that  "in  all  latitudes  of  the  Temperate  Zone  the  disease 
known  as  pulmonary  consumption  is  caused  by  breathing  of 
vitiated  air,  and  can  be  subdued  by  out-door  exercise."  He 
does  not  claim  that  wasted  tissues  can  be  reproduced,  but  he 
does  claim  that  in  all  but  its  last  stages  the  progress  of  the  dis- 
ease can  be  arrested  by  out-door  life  alone,  and  that  a  three 
months'  mountain-trip,  with  or  without  tents,  and  even  attended 
with  all  possible  discomforts,  will  cure  all  the  symptoms  of  the 
disease.  His  detailed  recommendations  are  so  pertinent  and 
practical  that  we  make  an  extract  from  them: 

"In  stress  of  circumstances  an  hour  per  day  of  active  exer- 
cise will  help  to  keep  the  lungs  catarrh-proof,  and  that  hour  may 
even  be  subdivided.  Buy  a  large  umbrella  and  make  it  a  rule 
to  walk  on  your  way  to  market,  to  your  place  of  business,  or  to 
church,  or  at  least  part  of  the  way  if  the  distance  is  great  and 
your  time  limited.  In  the  evening  take  a  large  satchel,  and  go 
a  mile  out  of  your  way  to  patronize  a  good  fruit-dealer  or  a 
vender  of  old  books,  or  fill  the  satchel  at  home  and  earn  the 
blessing  of  a  poor  family  in  the  factory  suburb.  Street  rambles 
should  have  a  proximate  object;  the  regulation  walk,  on  general 
principles,  is  too  apt  to  be  shirked  on  very  slight  pretexts.  If 
you  have  a  garden  of  your  own,  fence  off  a  digging  corner  and 
52 


818  MEDICAL  NOTES. 

prospect  for  geological  specimens.  If  30U  have  a  wood-shed, 
import  an  old, stump-log  (hickory  preferred),  and  do  not  be  too 
particular  about  keeping  your  ax  sharp.  Ventilate  your  office, 
keep  a  stove  and  an  overcoat  in  your  workshop,  and  open  the 
windows  every  now  and  then.  Open  the  dining-room  windows 
in  the  forenoon  and  the  kitchen  windows  in  the  afternoon;  no 
forced  ventilator  can  compete  with  the  eflect  of  a  direct  influx 
of  atmospheric  air.  If  you  teach  a  class  of  work  in  a  ware- 
house or  counting-house,  prevail  uj^on  the  managers  toventilate 
the  place  during  the  dinner  recess,  or  else  try  to  do  your  work 
in  the  airiest  corner,  near  a  window,  or  near  the  door  of  a  vacant 
side-room  or  hall.  In  ill-ventilated  rooms  the  azote  miasma  has 
its  centers  of  density  that  can  be  avoided  with  a  little  manage- 
ment." 

The  doctor  follows  up  these  recommendations  with  numerous 
others.  He  advocates  airy  bed-rooms,  out-door  exercise  in  win- 
ter, sight-seeing  afoot,  the  use  of  fat-containing  substances,  and 
the  avoidance  on  the  other  hand  of  all  scorbutific  articles  of 
diet,  such  as  salt  ineats,  pickles,  rancid  fat,  pungent  spices, 
cheese,  and  intoxicating  liquors,  the  use  of  gymnastic  apparatus, 
etc.  In  fine,  he  recommends  a  series  of  atmospheric,  gymnas- 
tic, and  dietetic  remedies,  which  he  claims  will  always  arrest 
the  progress  of  this  dreadful  disease.  .  Fresh  air  and  active  ex- 
ercise are  medicines  easily  procurable  and  easy  to  take.  They 
are  within  the  reach  of  all,  and  are  certainly  worth  the  trying. 
They  can  harm  no  one  even  if  they  do  no  good.  It  adds  to 
their  enjoyment  that  they  can  be  made  attractive  and  pleasant. 
Shakespeare,  who  knew  almost  every  thing,  was  not  far  from 
right  in  his  advice  to  throw  physic  to  the  dogs.  If  more  of  it 
were  given  to  the  dogs,  and  more  of  us  followed  the  out-door 
life  and  exercise  of  the  dogs,  it  is  possible  that  we  might  in  time 
come  to  be  as  healthy. 

A  French  physician  announces  that  excessive  palpitation  of 
the  heart  can  always  be  arrested  by  bending  double,  the  head 
down  and  the  arms  hanging,  so  as  to  j^roduce  a  temporary  con- 
gestion of  the  ujoper  portion  of  the  body.  In  nearly  every  in- 
stance of  nervous  or  anemic  palpitation  the  heart  immediately 
resumes  its  natural  function.  If  the  movements  of  respiration 
arc  arrested  during  this  action,  the  effect  is  still  more  rapid. 


balmy  sleep.  819 

Balmy  Sleep. 

A  prominent  physician  says  a  person  should  never  be  waked 
except  where  there  is  urgent  necessity  for  it.  Nature  knows 
her  own  business,  and  tlie  men  who  follow  nature's  rules  the 
closest  will  receive  most  of  her  blessings.  A  man  in  his  natu- 
ral state' is  healthy  and  sound.  He  contracts  disease,  or  some 
one  else  contracts  it  for  him.  The  ailments  of  the  father  and 
mother  are  often  visited  upon  the  children,  not  because  it  is  a 
source  of  pleasure  to  the  Almighty,  but  because  it  is  nature's 
law.  One  of  nature's  rules  is  that  a  man  shall  have  sleep.  If 
it  had  been  intended  that  a  man  should  work  twenty-four  hours 
out  of' twenty -four,  nature  would  have  made  the  sun  shine  with- 
out interruption  all  the  time.  Lights  are  an  innovation.  Wild 
beasts  don't  have  lights.  They  are  reserved  for  man,  with  his 
superior  intelligence  and  multiplicity  of  bodily  ailments.  Night 
was  made  for  sleep  and  the  day  for  work. 

The  man  who  disregards  the  demands  of  his  mind  and  body 
for  the  amount  of  rest  which  nature  claims  suffers  sooner  or 
later,  and  pays  dearly  for  having  abused  this  prime  rule  of 
health.  Nature  is  the  best  bookkeeper  the  world  ever  saw. 
You  may  overdraw  your  atcount,  but  you  always  pay  back  the 
last  penny,  and  often  give  up  the  pound  of  flesh — sometimes 
€ven  more  than  the  pound.  A  man  may  think  he  can  steal  from 
nature,  but  he  cannot.  I  do  not  think  a  person  should  be  waked 
at  morning,  for  this  reason:  When  a  man  falls  asleep  he  is  in 
the  shop  for  repairs,  as  the  railroad  men  say.  His  frame  and 
all  his  intricate  machinery  is  being  overhauled  and  made  ready 
for  the  next  day's  work.  The  wear  of  the  previous  day  is  be- 
ing repaired.  Nature  is  doing  that. herself.  She  knows  what 
the  tired  frame  needs,  just  as  she  knows  how  to  make  the  heart 
throb  and  send  the  blood  coursing  through  the  veins.  Then 
she  takes  that  tired  frame,  lays  it  down  on  a  bed,  surrounds  it 
with  the  refreshing  air  of  night,  covers  it  with  the  soft  darkness, 
and  lets  the  man  rest.  "Tired  nature's  sweet  restorer,  balmy 
sleep,"  visits  him,  and  as  the  hours  pass  by  his  energies  are  re- 
newed, his  strength  comes  back,  and  finally,  when  morning 
breaks  and  the  sunlight  steals  through  the  lattice,  he  opens  his 
eyes  and  he  is  himself  again.  If  he  is  early  to  bed  he  wakes 
correspondingly  early. 


820  MEDICAL  NOTES. 

Now  who  will  go  to  that  man's  side  an  houi*  before  he  opens- 
his  eyes,  and  say  to  nature,  "  Stand  aside  and  let  him  get  up;  he 
has  had  enough  of  rest?"  Well,  nature  will  say:  "You  can 
take  him  if  you  want,  but  I  will  charge  him  with  an  hour's  los& 
of  sleep,  and  I'll  collect  it  out  of  his  bones,  and  nerves,  and 
hair,  and  eyesight.  You  can't  cheat  me;  I'll  find  property  to- 
levy  on."  The  old  law  used  to  be  eight  hours  for  sleep,  eight 
houi"s  for  the  usual  vocation,  and  eight  hours  for  the  service  of 
God.  The  day  was  divided  into  three  equal  parts,  and  each 
part  was  devoted  to  a  special  purpose.  One  was  sleep,  and  not 
one  bit  too  much. 

Ungonsgiousnbss  op  Dying  ©bf^sons. 

"A  dying  man  may  be  burned  with  a  red-hot  iron,  and  not 
feel  pain,"  Dr.  Crawford  said  to  a  reporter.  "  Consciousness- 
m'ay  remain  to  the  dying  almost  to  the  dissolution,  but  generally 
they  lose  the  power  of  thought  long  before  actual  death.  In 
cases  of  death  in  which  there  seems  to  be  suffering,  the  writh- 
ing and  spasms  are  due  to  reflex  muscular  action.  Fear  weak- 
ens the  nervous  system,  and  consequentlv  hastens  death,  and 
the  ix verse  of  fear  may  prolong  life."  The  doctor  cited  a  med- 
ical report  concerning  a  Methodist  minister.  He  lay  on  the 
verge  of  death,  cold  and  pulseless,  and  friends  around  his  bed 
sang  his  favorite  hymn.  As  they  ceased,  and  while  the  physi- 
cians stood  timing  the  death,  the  minister's  hand  moved,  and  he 
whispered,  "Glory!  "  Restoratives  were  administered,  and  an 
hour  later  the  inan  had  recovered.  He  lived  many  years  after 
that.  He  said  he  understood  every  word  spoken  at  his  bedside. 
Under  the  nervous  excitem-ent  and  enthusiasm  wrought  by  the 
hymn  he  had  exerted  his  muscular  strength  and  lived. 

Rise  with  the  lark — that  is,  during  cold  weather,  as  soon 
as  the  lark  rises,  wake  your  wife  and  tell  her  it  is  time  to 
build  the  fire.  If  she  makes  any  objections  you  can  refer 
her  to  a  dozen  or  more  works  on  the  benefit  of  early  rising. 
Any  man  who  cares  a  cent  for  his  wife's  health  will  take 
pride  in  hearing  her  around  the  house  at  daylight  of  a  winter 
morning  getting  up  a  red-hot  stove  and  warming  his  socks  and 
boots.     (Wretch!) 


THE  SCIENCE  OF  ALCOHOL.  821 

©HE   S6IBN6B   OP   fiLGOHOL. 

Civilization  has  already  outrun  the  bodies  of  men  and  women. 
Its  complicated  work  taxes  body  and  brain  almost  beyond  en- 
durance. In  addition,  the  self-indulgence  of  the  age  is  so  gen- 
eral and  wasteful  that  it  creates  physical  degeneracy  and  mental 
imbecility.  It  crowds  the  hospitals,  peoples  the  asylums,  in- 
creases the  tenants  of  almshouses,  fills  the  prisons,  empties  the 
churches,  dethrones  manhood,  and  brutalizes  alike  the  rich  and 
the  poor.  I  allude  to  the  indulgence  in  intoxicating  drink.  All 
the  while  the  severity  of  the  struggle  for  life  increases,  and  the 
diflSculties  of  earning  a  livelihood  grow  intenser  with  every 
generation.     What  is  to  be  done.^ 

The  young  must  be  taught  the  hygiene  of  intoxicating  drinks. 
It  must  enter  into  their  school  education.  They  must  be  care- 
fully instructed  in  the  damaging  physiological  results  of  indul- 
gence in  the  cider,  beer,  and  wine  so  largely  used  as  beverages, 
.and  which,  in  the  main,  become  as  destructive  as  the  stronger 
.alcoholic  liquors.  They  must  be  trained  to  maintain  serene 
dominion  over  appetite — to  lead  lives  of  wholesomeness — to 
practice  rigid  total  abstinence  from  all  that  can  intoxicate. 
Plato  laid  down  the  rule  that  boys  must  not  taste  wine  until 
they  were  eighteen  years  old.  The  early  Romans  forbade  its 
use  till  a  man  had  reached  the  age  of  thirty.  The  Spartans 
•denied  intoxicating  drinks  to  their  sons,  and  compelled  their 
slaves — the  Helots — to  get  drunk  in  the  presence  of  their  young 
men,  that  they  might  witness  the  degradation  of  drunkenness. 
Their  great  aim  was  to  develop  a  superb  physical  manhood. 

Science  to-day  teaches  that  alcohol  is  not  only  not  a  food,  but 
a  poison.  When  we  say  a  man  is  "intoxicated,"  we  simply  say 
that  he  is  poisoned.  For  our  word  "  intoxicate  "  comes  from  the 
Latin  word  toxicum,  which  means  poison.  From  this  we  have 
the  word  "toxicology,"  which  is  the  science  that  treats  of 
poisons.  If  one  takes  into  the  stomach  meat,  bread,  potatoes, 
or  other  food,  it  is  digested,  and  converted  into  muscle,  brain, 
bone,  or  some  other  part  of  the  body.  Thus  by  food  the  waste 
of  the  human  system  is  repaired,  which  is  occasioned  by  the 
w^ork  of  life.  But  when  alcohol  is  taken  into  the  stomach,  that 
organ  resents  its  intrusion,  and  drives  it  into  the  liver,  which,  in 
turn,  forces  it  into  the  heart,  and  that  throws  it  into  the  lungs — 


822  MEDICAL  NOTES. 

and  so  it  goes  on  in  its  unwelcome  and  compulsory  tour  through 
the  body.  Every  organ  rejects  and  expels  it — the  liver,  bowels, 
kidneys,  lungs,  and  skin  all  throwing  out  a  portion  of  it — until 
the  system  is  rid  of  it.  In  this  process  of  expulsion  every  or- 
gan, by  and  by,  becomes  seriously  damaged. 

At  last  both  body  and  mind  are  ruined.  The  perceptions  are 
bewildered,  the  memory  is  weakened,  the  reasoning  power 
clouded,  the  moral  sense  benumbed,  the  will  dethroned,  the 
self-respect  dead,  and  there  is  no  vice  or  crime  to  which  the 
victim  is  not  liable.  A  terrible  dipsomania  is  established,  when 
there, is  only  an  insatiate  craving  for  alcohol,  that  knows  no 
bounds,  and  for  which  there  is  rarely  any  cure. 

When  to  the  wreck  of  the  individual  are  added  the  appalling 
facts  that  four-fifths  of  all  the  criminals  in  the  prisons,  four- 
fifths  of  all  the  paupers  in  the  almshouses,  three-fifths  of  the 
insane  in  asylums,  and  one-half  of  the  idiots,  are  the  direct 
products  of  strong-drink,  how  ghastly  is  the  record  I  Ought 
not  these  facts  to  constitute  a  powerful  array  of  reasons  why 
the  youth  of  to-day  should  vow  in  high  honor  absolute  and 
life-long  aloofness  from  all  that  can  intoxicate? 

In  Summbi^,  I^embmbbi^ 

1.  That  infectious  diseases  generally  are  due  to  filth  in  some 
form — most  of  them  directly  to  divers  kinds  of  microscopic 
plants  (bacteria)  which  gain  entrance  into  the  system  through 
the  lungs  or  the  stomach.  Invading  the  wonderful  laboratories 
of  life — the  infinitesimal  cells — they  disorganize  these  just  as 
the  yeast-plants,  multiplying  to  countless  millions,  disorganize 
every  particle  of  dough,  or  would  do  so  if  not  themselves  killed 
by  the  heat  of  the  oven. 

2.  Remember  that  the  best  preservative  against  them  is  high 
health,  which  either  digests  them  in  the  stomach,  or  repels  them 
from  gaining  a  foothold,  and  eliminates  them  from  the  system. 

3.  Remember  that  the  next  best  preservative  against  infec- 
tious diseases  is  a  free  and  strong  circulation  of  pure  air  through 
the  house  from  cellar  to  attic.  The  danger  is  when  large  num- 
bers of  bacteria  gain  admittance.  There  is  slight  probability 
that  a  foothold  will  be  gained  by  these  invaders  when  their 
number  is  comparatively  few. 


GENERATED  POISONS.  823 

4.  Remember  that  in  our  cities  and  large  towns  the  sewers, 
constantly  receiving  the  excreta  of  the  sick,  are  never  free  from 
infectious  bacteria;  that  these  readily  pass  up  into  dwellings 
through  every  open  connecting  pipe;  that  these  pipes  should 
be  kept  closed  when  not  in  use;  and  that  they  should,  in  no 
case,  enter  a  slccpin'^-rooiu,  but  oiilv  into  a  wcll-ventllated 
water-closet 

5.  Remember  that,  in  the  countr}',  wells  are  dangerous  when 
they  are  within  one  hundred  feet  of  a  privy  or  cesspool. 

6.  Remember  that  while  boiling  may  purify  infected  water, 
mere  filtering  never  renders  it  safe. 

7.  That  all  water-closets,  cesspools,  etc.,  should  be  frequently 
disinfected,  copperas  (sulphate  of  iron)  being  a  good  and  cheap 
disinfectant  for  the  purpose. 

8.  That  a  deodorizer  is  not  necessarily  a  disinfectant.  We 
may  kill  a  bad  smell,  and  not  kill  the  bacteria. 

Gbnei^atbd  Poisons. 

There  are  three  views  respecting  the  origin  of  most  infectious  ' 
diseases. 

The  first  is  that  they  originate  from  impalpable  poisons  pro- 
duced from  filth  during  some  of  the  chemical  changes  which 
its  particles  undergo  in  certain  conditions. 

A  second  is  that  they  are  due  to  living  organisms,  mostly  mi- 
croscopic plants,  introduced  into  the  system  through  the  mouth 
or  lungs,  the  product  of  living  germs  outside  of  the  body. 

The  third  is  in  part  like  the  second,  but  it  claims  that  the  liv- 
ing germs  are  generated  directl}^  apart  from  all  parent  germs, 
from  elementary  particles  of  filth  during  the  various  processes 
of  their  decomposition  and  recomposition. 

The  last  view  is  held  by  the  advocates — not  a  large  number 
— of. the  theory  of  "spontaneous  generation." 

The  first  is  the  old  view,  and  is  still  maintained  by  many 
strong  advocates.  The  second  is  a  wholly  modern  view,  and 
rests  mainly  on  the  discovery  of  the  parasites  by  the  micro- 
scope. 

Filth,  however,  lies  at  the  basis  of  every  view,  even  the  sec- 
ond holding  that  filth  is  a  hot-bed  for  the  rapid  growth  and 
multiplication  of  the  germs,  and  that  its  influence  on  the  human 
svstem  is  to  lower  its  vitality  and  thus  make  it  good  soil  for 


824  MEDICAL  NOTES. 

their  development;  hence  these  diseases  are  now  universally- 
known  as  filth  diseases. 

The  following  are  fi"esh  illustrations  of  the  connection  be- 
tween disease  and  filth.  A  severe  epidemic  of  diphtheria  re- 
cently broke  out  in  the  Blind  Asylum,  Batavia,  New  York. 
An  investigation  by  the  State  Board  of  Health  showed  that 
the  drain  which  conducted  the  sewage  to  a  swamp  back  of  the 
institution  had  fallen  in  pieces  and  w^as  wholly  blocked  up  by 
the  surrounding  earth. 

One  of  the  citizens  of  Chelsea,  a  well-known  lawyer,  lately 
died  from  a  very  violent  attack  of  typhoid  fever.  A  child  had 
recently  recovered  from  the  same  disease.  This  same  child  had 
previously  had  attacks  of  scarlet  fever  and  diphtheria.  The 
house  was  a  fine  one,  and  every  thing  that  met  the  eye  w^as  scru- 
pulously neat.  But  on  tearing  up  the  basement  floor — at  the 
urgent  request  of  the  family  physician — there  was  found  an 
immense  mass  of  filth,  the  sewage-pipe  being  broken  in  two 
places. 

She   Blues. 

When  people  are  sick  in  body  they  usually  want  to  do  some- 
thing for  the  disease.  They  ought  to  be  as  wise  when  mentally 
sick  with  that  unnerving  malady  the  blues,  and  do  something, 
with  an  active  emphasis  on  the  do.  Too  many,  when  in  low 
spirits,  are  tempted  to  "  take  something."  A  dose  of  morphine, 
a  glass  of  wine,  an  exciting  novel,  or  an  aimless  holiday,  seems 
so  pleasant  to  take.  But  they  do  not  cure;  they  only  aggravate 
the  ailment.  The  harmonious  and  simultaneous  employment 
of  head,  hands,  and  heart  is  the  availing  remedy.  Plan  some 
sensible  work,  and  execute  it.  Take  hold  of  plow  or  hoe,  saw 
or  hammer,  pen  or  yard-stick,  needle  or  broom,  and  stir  your 
blood  by  stirring  something  to  some  purpose.  Where  there  is 
no  positive  bodily  disease  one  can  do  much  toward  dispelling 
one's  dismal  blues  of  murky  misery,  by  helping  to  put  a  bit  of 
the  clear  blue  sky  of  happiness  over  somebody's  head. 

If  you  are  sick,  do  not  whine,  nor  sigh,  nor  drizzle  a  "con- 
tinual dropping"  of  complaints.  Gird  yourself  with  the  spirit 
of  a  man  and  bear  your  infirmity.  Bring  your  wandering, 
gloomy  gaze  within  the  compass  of  to-day.  Christ  has  com- 
manded: Take  no  thought  for  to-morrow.    Trust  God  to-day. 


THE  COLD  BATH.  825 

It  is  wrong  to  give  way  to  the  blues.  If  they  arise  from  bodily 
indisposition,  then  fast  a  little  if  need  be,  exercise  wisely,  and 
quit  your  misguided  habits.  Live  according  to  God's  law  in  all 
things. 

If  your  spirit  is  wounded  with  some  deep  sorrow,  do  not  re- 
pine. Go  to  the  loving  Christ  who  was  a  "man  of  sorrows," 
and  who  can  enter  into  all  our  sore  afflictions.  Trust,  love, 
obey.  Find  something  for  hand  and  heart  to  do.  Never  de- 
spair. Christ  reigns,  and  his  hand,  that  "in  faithfulness"  has 
sorely  chastened,  can  richly  comfort  in  due  time. 

She  (Sold  Bath. 

Although  the  daily  cold  bath  is  healthful  and  reviving,  it 
must  not  alone  be  depended  upon  as  a  cleiansing  agent'.  A  man 
may  bathe  daily  and  use  his  towel  even  roughly,  but  remain  as 
dirty  to  all  practical  intents  as  though  he  eschewed  cleanliness; 
indeed,  the  physical  evil  of  dirt  is  more  likely  to  ensue,  because 
if  wholly  neglected  the  skin  would  cast  off  the  refuse  matter 
by  periodical  perspirations.  Nothing  but  frequent  washings 
in  water  of  at  least  equal  temperature  with  the  skin,  and  soap, 
can  insure  a  free  and  healthy  surface.  The  feet  require  espe- 
cial care,  and  it  is  too  much  the  practice  to  neglect  them.  The 
omission  of  daily  washing  with  water  and  the  wearing  of  foot- 
coverings  so  tight  as  to  compress  the  blood-vessels  and  retard 
the  circulation  of  the  "blood  through  the  extremities,  are  the 
most  common  causes  of  cold  feet.  The  remedy  is  obvious — 
dress  loosely  and  wash  frequently.  The  skin  plays  an  impor- 
tant part  in  the  preservation  of  bodily  health. 

It  is  not  as  generally  understood  as  it  should  be  that  oysters 
have  medicinal  qualities  of  a  high  order.  They  are  not  only 
nutritious,  but  wholesome,  especially  in  cases  of  indigestion. 
It  is  said  "  there  is  no  other  alimentary  substance,  not  even  ex- 
cepting bread,  that  does  not  produce  indigestion  under  certain 
circumstances;  but  oysters,  never."  Oyster  juice^promotes  di- 
gestion. By  taking  oysters  daily,  indigestion,  supposed  to  be 
almost  incurable,  has  been  cured;  in  fact,  they  are  to  be  re- 
garded as  one  of  the  most  healthful  articles  of  food  known  to 
man.  Invalids  who  have  found  all  other  kinds  of  food  disagree 
with  them  often  discover  in  the  oyster  the  required  aliment 


826  MEDICAL  NOTES. 

r^BAIiTHPULriESS  OP    FP^UIT. 

No  intelligent  person  can  doubt  that  the  free  use  of  ripe  fruit 
is  conducive  to  health.  On  the  other  hand  it  is  obvious  that 
fruits  as  an  exclusive  article  of  diet  do  not  meet  all  the. wants 
of  the  system.  The  chemistry  of  the  apple,  the  pear,  the  toma- 
to, the  grape,  etc.,  is  w^ell  understood,  and  it  can  be  stated  how 
much  nutriment  or  assimilable  food  each  is  capable  of  affording; 
but  this  does  not  answer  all  the  questions  connected  with  the 
subject  of  the  healthfulness  of  fruit.  Besides  furnishing  nutri- 
ment, fruit  exerts  other  influences  upon  the  animal  economy  of 
the  highest  importance.  The  acids  of  fi'uit  are  properly  nutri- 
tive substances,  but  they  produce  physiological  effects  of  a  cool- 
ing or  corrective  nature,  which  are  highly  salutary. 

Fruits  are  largely  composed  of  water,  and  this  fluid  has  come 
to  them  through  extraordinary  channels.  The  tiny  root-fibres 
have  collected  it  in  the  dark  earth,  and,  by  vital  action,  it  has 
been  forced  through  the  most  minute  tubes,  until  it  is  finally 
deposited  in  the  fruit-cells.  So  far  as  we  know,  the  water  un- 
dergoes no  modifications;  it  is  water  in  the  soil,  and  it  is  the 
same  in  its  wonderful  associations  in  fruits.  It,  however,  holds 
saccharine  elements  and  other  i^rinciples  which  modify  its  phys- 
ical appearance  and  taste.  The  great  amount  of  water  contained 
in  fruits  is  in  itself  an  advantage,  as  it  aids  in  cleaning  the  ali- 
mentary canal  and  the  other  excretory  ducts,  and  thus  promotes 
healthy  action. 

Fruits  are  capable  of  sustaining  life  for  long  perio'ds,  but 
the  lack  of  the  nitrogenous  elements  detracts  from  their 
strength-giving  jDower,  and  any  one  living  exclusively  upon 
them  would  not  be  able  to  labor  effectively.  We  have  heard 
of  the  man  who  rowed  his  boat  along  the  entire  coast  of  New 
England,  sustained  alone  by  whortleberries;  but  if  the  voyage 
had  lasted  six  months,  or  even  three,  his  nerves  and  muscles 
would  have  entirely  failed  him. 

Buttermilk  is  considered  one  of  the  best  of  summer  drinks. 
Those  who  have  a  craving  for  something  sour  in  warni  weath- 
er will  find  the  lactic  acid  which  buttermilk  contains  very  grate- 
ful to  the  stomach,  and  the  staying  properties  of  the  drink  will 
enable  a  person  to  undergo  more  fatigue  than  an}^  thing  else 
that  may  be  drunk. 


w|ELlgIOUS*DEPARTMENT. 

QEAVEU. 


BY  W.  W.  BREESE. 

%^ 

'•*  AYS  a  celebrated  author:  In  meditatin"- 
upon  the  happiness  in  store  for  the  children 
■J  jc^^  of  God  we  are  very  apt  to  build  up  a  heaven 
'^W/  of  our  own,  which  naturally  takes  the  shape 
and  color  which  our  sorrows,  needs,  and  sufferings 
lend  thereto.  The  poor  man,  for  instance,  who  has 
suffered  much  from  toil  and  want,  looks  upon  heaven 
as  a  place  of  rest,  abounding  with  all  that  can  satisfy 
the  cravings  of  nature. 

Another,  who  has  often  endured  the  pangs  of  dis- 
ease, looks  upon  it  as  a  place  where  he  shall  enjoy 
perpetual  health  of  body  and  mind. 

Another,  again,  who  in  the  practice  of  virtue  has 
had  all  manner  of  temptations  from  the  devil,  the 
world,  and  his  own  flesh,  delights  in  viewing  heaven 
as  a  place  totally  free  from  temptation,  where  the 
danger,  or  even  the  possibility  of  sin,  shall  be  no  more. 
All  these,  and  other  similar  views  of  heaven,  are 
true,  inasmuch  as  they  represent  it  as  a  place  entirely 
free  from  evil  and  suffering,  and  at  the  same  time  as 
an  abode  of  positive  happiness. 

(827) 


828  BELIGIO  US  DEPAR  TMENT. 

The  same  writer  says:  Again,  the  starving  beggar 
gazes  upon  the  rich  man's  table,  loaded  with  every 
imaginable  luxury.  Does  the  mere  sight  relieve  the 
pangs  of  hunger?  It  certainly  does  not.  It  rather 
adds  to  his  wretchedness  by  intensifying  his  hunger 
without  satisfying  its  cravings.  Even  so  it  would  be 
in  heaven,  could  we  suppose  a  soul  admitted  there, 
and  allowed  to  gaze  upon  the  beauty  of  God,  while 
he  cannot  possess  or  enjoy  him. 

Abstract  words,  however,  and  reasoning  fail  to  con- 
vey a  definite  idea  of  this  glorious  happiness  reserved 
for  the  children  of  God.  Let  us,  therefore,  have  re- 
course to  an  illustration  in  the  shape  of  a  little  parable: 

A  kind-hearted  king,  while  hunting  in  a  forest, 
iinds  a  blind  orphan  boy,  totally  destitute  of  all  that 
can  make  life  comfortable.  The  king,  moved  with 
compassion,  takes  him  to  his  palace,  adopts  him  as 
his  own,  and  orders  him  to  be  cared  for  and  educated 
in  all  that  a  blind  person  can  learn.  It  is  almost  need- 
less to  say  that  the  boy  is  unspeakably  grateful,  and 
does  all  he  can  to  please  the  king.  When  he  has 
reached  his  twentieth  year,  a  surgeon  performs  an 
operation  upon  his  eyes  by  which  his  sight  is  restored 
to  him. 

Then  the  king,  surrounded  by  his  nobles,  and  amid 
all  the  pomp  and  magnificence  of  the  court,  proclaims 
him  one  of  his  sons,  and  commands  all  to  honor  and 
love  him  as  such.  And  thus  the  once  friendless 
orphan  becomes  a  prince,  and  therefore  a  partaker  of 
the  royal  dignity,  of  the  happiness  and  glory  which 
are  to  be  found  in  the  palaces  of  kings. 

We  will  not  attempt  to  describe  the  joys  that  over- 
whelm the  soul  of  this  fortunate  young  man  when  he 


HE  A  VEN.  829 

first  beholds  that  king,  of  whose  manly  beauty,  good- 
ness, power,  and  magnificence  he  has  heard  so  much. 
Nor  will  we  attempt  to  describe  those  other  joys 
which  fill  his  soul  when  he  beholds  himself,  his  own 
personal  beauty,  and  the  magnificence  of  his  princely 
garments,  whereof  he  had  also  heard  so  much  here- 
tofore. Much  less  will  we  attempt  to  picture  his  ex- 
quisite and  unspeakable  happiness  when  he  sees  him- 
self adopted  into  the  royal  family,  honored  and  loved 
by  all;  together  with  all  the  pleasures  of  life  within 
his  reach.  Each  one  may  endeavor  to  imagine  his 
feelings,  joy,  and  happiness. 

The  application  of  the  parable  is  obvious.  God  is 
the  great  and  mighty  King,  who  finds  your  soul  in  the 
wilderness  of  this  world.  Moved  with  compassion, 
he  brought  you  to  his  courts  and  placed  you  among 
his  redeemed,  where  he  washed  you  with  his  own 
precious  blood,  clothed  you  with  the  spotless  robe  of 
innocence,  adorned  you  with  the  gifts  of  grace,  and 
adopted  you  as  his  own  child.  Then  he  commanded 
his  ministering  servants  to  educate  you  for  heaven. 

Another  author  says  of  the  saints  in  heaven:  There 
nothing  will  remain  to  be  longed  for  or  sought  for 
any  more;  for  all  will  firmly  possess  and  exquisitely 
enjoy  every  good  thing  in  God.  There  the  occupa- 
tion of  the  saints  will  be  to  contemplate  the  infinite 
beauty  of  God;  to  love  his  infinite  goodness,  to  en- 
joy his  infinite  sweetness,  to  be  filled  to  overflowing 
with  the  torrent  of  his  pleasures,  and  to  exult  with 
an  unspeakable  delight  in  his  infinite  glory  and  in  all 
the  good  things  which  he  and  they  possess.  Hence 
comes  perpetual  praise,  and  benediction,  and  thanks- 
giving; and  thus  the  blessed,  having  reached  the  con- 


830  RELIGIOUS  DEPART3IENT. 

summation  of  all  their  desires,  and  knowing  not  what 
more  to  crave,  rest  in  God  to  their  last  end. 

In  this  world  a  deformed  man  may  gaze  upon  a 
beautiful  object  without  becoming  beautiful  thereby; 
the  poor  man  gazes  upon  the  rich  man,  but  remains 
as  poor  as  ever;  and  the  ignorant  man  gazes  upon 
the  philosopher,  but  nevertheless  remains  as  ignorant 
as  before. 

Not  so  in  heaven.  The  vision  of  God  has  a  trans- 
forming power — that  is,  it  has  the  power  of  commu- 
nicating to  the  beholder  attributes  which  he  had  not 
before,  or  possessed  only  in  the  germ.  Thus  the  soul, 
because  it  sees  God  as  he.  is,  is  filled  to  overflowing 
with  all  knowledge;  it  becomes  beautiful  with  the 
beauty  of  God,  rich  with  his  wealth,  holy  with  his 
holiness,  and  happy  with  his  own  unutterable  happi- 
ness. In  a  word,  by  the  vision  of  God  it  is  made  a 
partaker  of  the  divine  nature,  and,  Hke  a  very  god,  it 
shines  unto  all  eternity  in  the  divine  brightness. 

A  diamond  carefully  cut  and  perfectly  polished 
glitters  and  shines  in  the  sun  with  exceeding  brilliancy. 
It  not  only  reflects  the  light,  but  also  absorbs  it  into 
itself,  so  as  to  shine  even  in  the  dark  ivith  the  light  it 
has  absorbed.  It  actually  becomes,  as  it  were,  a  little 
sun,  shining  with  its  own  light.  It  thus  becomes  a 
partaker  of  the  sun's  nature,  while  it  retains  its  own 
peculiar  diamond  nature  and  individuality.  This  is 
an  image  of  what  takes  place  in  the  soul  which  truly 
comes  into  the  presence  of  God. 

Seldom  can  the  heart  be  lonely, 

If  it  seeks  a  lonelier  still, 
Self-forgetting,  seeking  only 

Emptier  cups  of  love  to  fill. 


WJH  SHALL  GET  HOME.  831 

We  ShaliLj  Get  ]70MK. 


BY  KEV.  a  H.  8PUR0E0N. 


We  shall  get  home;  for  O  if  we  do  not,  what  a  lament  there 
will  be  in  heaven!  Think  of  that.  If  the.  children  do  not 
come  home,  what  mourning  will  be  heard  in  the  mansions 
above!  Neither  God  nor  good  men  could  see  the  divine  family 
broken,  and  yet  be  happy.  Every  angel  in  heaven  would  feel 
a  disappointment  if  one  child  of  God  was  absent  at  the  reading 
of  the  muster-roll.  Did  they  not  rejoice  over  each^ne  of  us  as 
a  sinner  repenting?  Their  sympathetic  mirth  was  preirtature 
in  our  case  if  we  perish  by  the  way.  But  angels  are  not 
doomed  to  sec  their  hopes  frustrated,  neither  will  the  great 
Father  find  that  he  himself  was  glad  too  soon.  Heaven  would 
be  a  desolate  place  if  at  its  banquet  some  David's  seat  was  empty ! 
We  cannot  endure  to  imagine  some  member  of  the  sacred  fam- 
ily missing — lost  forever,  cast  into  hell!  It  must  not  be,  for  in 
the  land  of  absolute  perfection  there  is 

"  No  missing  heir,  no  harp  that  lies  unstrung. 
No  vacant  place,  those  hallowed  halls  among." 

We  shall  get  home,  for  the  great  Father  himself  will  never 
rest  until  we  do,  and  he  that  bought  us  witU  his  precious  blood 
will  never  be  satisfied  till  all  his  redeemed  shall  stand  around 
him  girt  in  their  snow-white  robes.  If  we  had  been  on  a  pil- 
grimage  with  our  families,  and  had  reached  home  ourselves  and 
then  missed  a  dear  child,  what  a  stir  there  would  be!  I  appeal 
to  every  father's  heart:  Would  you  sleep,  with  a  child  lost.' 
Would  you  not  tramp  back  every  step  of  the  road  to  seek  your 
dear  stray  lamb?  You  would  cry  every-where,  "Saw  ye  him 
whom  my  soul  lovethr  "  Well  can  I  imagine  our  Good  Shep- 
herd using  the  same  words  concerning  any  one  of  us  if  we  do 
not  get  home,  and  asking  every-where,  "  Saw  ye  him  whom  my 
soul  loveth?"  He  would  not  rest  until  he  had  found  his  chosen, 
his  heart's  delight.  Did  he  rest  the  first  time  until  he  brought 
us  home  on  his  shoulders  rejoicing?  Would  he  rest  the  second 
time  until  he  had  folded  us  in  glory?  No;  he  can  never  have 
full  joy  in  his  heart  until  all  his  ransomed  are  in  the  place  where 
the  many  mansions  be.     "  We  shall  get  home." 


832  RELIGIOUS  DEPARTMENT. 

Dear  friends,  we  shall  get  home.  I  am  sure  we  shall;  and 
what  a  joy  it  will  be!  Think  of  the  bliss  of  seeing  our  Father, 
our  home,  our  Saviour,  and  all  those  who  are  dear  to  us  for  Jesus^ 
sake.  A  venerable  sister  who  saw  me  very  busy  the  other  day 
remarked  that  we  shall  have  plenty  of  time  to  talk  to  each  other 
in  eternity.  I  do  not  quite  see  how  there  can  be  time  when 
time  shall  be  no  more,  but  no  doubt  there  will  be  a  space  and 
opportunity  for  the  fullest  communion  with  each  other,  and  for 
much  fellowship  of  united  delight  in  the  adorable  person  of  our 
blessed  Lord.  I  anticipate  much  felicity  from  fellowship  with 
perfect  sairfts  above,  since  I  have  had  so  much  pleasure  in  the 
society  of  imperfect  saints  below.  Many  have  gone  home  from 
us  of  late,  and  we  are  all  getting  older;  but  let  us  not  regret  the 
fact,  since  the  home  above  is  being  filled,  and  a  perfect  society 
is  being  formed  which  will  last  forever. 

She  Gi^ayb. 

Yet  we  must  all  go  away,  and  the  place  that  knew  us  shall 
know  us  no  more.  The  invisible  messenger  is  always  at  hand 
— "  the  messenger,"  says  Carlyle,  "  which  overtakes  alike  the 
busy  and  the  idle;  which  arrests  man  in  the  midst  of  his  pleas- 
ures or  occupations,  and  changes  his  countenance  and  sends  him 
away."  "  Poor  Edward,"  said  Balzac,  "  has  been  stopped  in  the 
grooves  of  life.  Hfe  has  begun  to  send  his  equipages  and  jock- 
eys on  an  embassy  to  the  greatest  sovereign  in  the  sublunary 
wprld — death." 

It  comes  to  all.  We  each  day  dig  our  graves  with  our  teeth. 
The  hour-glass  is  the  emblem  of  life.  It  wanes  low,  to  the  in- 
evitable last  grain,  and  then  there  is  silence — death.  Even  the 
monarch  walks  over  the  tombs  of  his  forefathers  to  be  crowned, 
and  is  afterward  taken  over  them  to  his  grave. 

There  are  some  men  w~ho  are  asking:  "  How  can  I  serve  God 
without  using  my  hands.''  How  can  I  serve  God  without  using 
my  tongue?  How  can  I  serve  God  without  going  ,to  prayer- 
meeting?"  There  is  this  tendency  running  all  through  human 
nature — namely,  how  to  cheapen  religion.  "  How  can  I  live 
the  religious  life  and  have  it  cost  me  just  as  little  labor,  just  as 
little  money,  just  as  little  thought,  just  as  little  time,  just  as  little 
trouble  as  possible?" — Rev.  John  Rhcy  Thompson. 


ADJUSTMENT.  833 

pDJUS1tMBN5». 


BY  JOHN  O.  WIIITTIEB. 


The  tree  of  Faith  its  bare,  dry  boughs  mu6t  shed 

That  nearer  heaven  the  Hving  ones  may  climb. 

The  false  must  fall,  though  from  our  shores  of  time 
The  old  lament  be  heard,  "Great  Pan  is  dead!" 
That  wail  is  Error's,  from  his  high-place  hurled, 

This  sharp  recoil  is  Evil  undertrod. 

Our  time's  unrest,  an  angel  sent  from  God 
Troubling  with  life  the  waters  of  the  world. 
Even  as  they  list  the  winds  of  the  Spirit  blow 

To  turn  or  break  our  century-rusted  vanes; 

Sands  shift  and  waste,  the  rock  alone  remains 
Where  led  of  heaven  the  strong  tides  come  and  go, 
And  storm-clouds  rent  by  thunderbolt  and  wind 
Leave,  free  of  mist,  the  permanent  stars  behind. 
Therefore  I  trust,  although  to  outward  sense 

Both  true  and  false  seem  threatened;  I  will  hold 

With  newer  light  my  reverence  for  the  old, 
And  calmly  wait  the  births  of  Providence. 
No  gain  is  lost;  the  clear-eyed  saints  look  down 

Untroubled  on  the  wreck  of  schemes  and  creeds; 

Love  yet  remains,  its  rosary  of  good  deeds 
Counting  in  task-field  and  o'erpeopled  town;  s 

Truth  has  charmed  life;  the  Inward  Word  survives 

And,  day  by  day,  its  revelation  brings; 

Faith,  hope,  and  charity,  whatsoever  things 
Which  cannot  be  shaken,  stand.     Still  holy  lives 
Reveal  the  Christ  of  whom  the  letter  told, 
And  the  new  Gospel  verifies  the  old. 

When  courtiers  come  down  into  the  country  the  common, 
home-bred  people  possibly  think  their  habits  strange;  but 
they  care  not  for  that.  "It  is  the  fashion  at  court."  What 
need,  then,  have  the  godly  to  be  so  tender  foreheaded,  to  be  so 
out  of  countenance  because  the  world  looks  on  holiness  as  a 
singularity?  It  is  the  only  fashion  in  the  highest  court — yea, 
of  the  Kingf  of  kinsfs  himself. 
53 


834  RELIGIOUS  DEPARTMENT. 

She  ^AiPEI^ED   IlILIES. 

The  Master  stood  in  his  garden, 

Among  the  liHes  fair, 
Which  his  own  right  hand  had  planted 

And  trained  with  tenderest  care. 

He  looked  at  their  snowy  blossoms, 
And  marked  with  observant  eye 

That  his  flowers  were  sadly  drooping, 
For  the  leaves  were  parched  and  dry. 

"  My  lilies  need  to  be  watered," 
The  heavenly  Master  said. 

"Wherein  shall  I  draw  it  for  them, 
And  raise  each  drooping  head?" 

Close  to  his  feet  on  the  pathway, 
Empty,  and  frail,  and  small. 

An  earthen  vessel  was  lying, 
Which  seemed  of  no  use  at  all. 

But  the  Master  saw  and  raised  it 
From  the  dust  in  which  it  lay. 
And  smiled  as  he  gently  whispered, 
"This  shall  do  my  work  to-day, 

"It  is  but  an  earthen  vessel. 

But  it  lay  so  close  to  me; 

It  is  small,  but  it  is  empty, 

And  that  is  all  it  needs  to  be." 

So  to  the  fountain  he  took  it. 
And  filled  it  full  to  the  brim; 

How  glad  was  the  earthen  vessel 
To  be  of  some  use  to  him! 

He  poured  forth  the  living  water 

Over  his  lilies  fair. 
Until  his  vessel  was  empty, 

And  again  he  filled  it  there. 


A  BOY'S  REBUKE.  835 

He  watered  the  drooping  lilies 

Until  they  revived  ajjain, 
And  the  Master  saw  with  pleasure 

That  his  labor  had  not  been  in  vain. 

His  own  hand  had  drawn  the  water 
Which  refreshed  the  thirsty  flowers, 

But  he  used  the  earthen  vessel 
To  convey  the  living  showers. 

And  to  itself  it  whispered, 
As  he  laid  it  aside  once  more: 
'*  Still  will  I  He  in  his  pathway, 
Just  where  I  did  before. 

"  Close  would  I  keep  to  the  Master, 
Empty  would  I  remain. 
And  perhaps  some  day  he  may  use  me 
To  water  his  flowers  again." 

fl  Boy's  PJebui^b. 

In  the  neighborhood  of  Hoddom  Castle,  Dumfriesshire, 
Scotland,  there  was  once  a  tower  called  the  "Tower  of  Re- 
pentance." What  gave  the  tower  its  name  we  are  not  told, 
but  Jt  is  said  that  an  English  baronet,  walking  near  the  cas- 
tle, saw  a  shepherd  lad  lying  upon  the  ground,  reading  attent- 
ively. 

"What  are  you  reading,  lad?" 

"The  Bible,  sir." 

"The  Bible,  indeed!"  laughed  the  gentleman.  "Then  you 
must  be  wiser  than  the  parson.  Can  you  tell  me  the  way  to 
heaven?" 

"Yes,  sir,  I  can,"  replied  the  boy,  in  no  way  embarrassed  by 
the  mocking  tone  of  the  other.  "  You  must  go  straight  by  way 
of  yonder  tower,  and  then  keep  to  the  right." 

The  gentleman  saw  that  the  boy  had  learned  well  the  lesson 
of  his  book. 

Prayer  should  be  the  key  of  the  day  and  the  lock  of  the 
night. — Bishop  Berkeley. 


^836  RELIGIOUS  DEPARTMENT. 

DOGTI^INB   AND  ©HAF^AGTBI^. 

It  is  unquestionable  that  doctrine — that  is,  the  truth  which  we 
beUeve — affects  the  character.  The  Apostle  Jude  has  this  tend- 
ency in  mind  when  he  says  to  his  brethren:  "But  ye,  beloved, 
building  up  yourselves  on  your  most  holy  faith,"  etc. — that  is, 
building  up  or  forming  your  characters  on  the  basis  of  the  truth 
which  has  been  made  known  to  you,  and  which  you  have  received 
as  true.  That  a  man  should  habitually  act  according  to  the  facts 
which  he  believes  is  most  natural;  indeed,  it  would  be  almost 
inconceivable  that  he  should  do  otherwise. 

But  there  is  another  side  to  this  matter,  which  demands  per- 
haps more  attention  than  it  has  received.  While  doctrine  has 
an  influence  on  charactei*,  it  is  also  true  that  character  has  a 
strong  influence  upon  doctrine.  In  a  majority  of  instances  it 
will  be  found  that  a  man  conforms  his  belief  to  his  character 
and  life. 

Heaven  is  not  a  place  fenced  in  to  keep  good  people  securely. 
Hell  is  not  a  place  walled  around  to  confine  bad  people.  They 
are  states  of  being.  The  golden  gate  of  heaven  is  kind  words; 
the  pearly  street,  a  sweet  temper;  the  jasper  walls,  holy  im- 
pulses; the  mansions,  a  pure  heart;  the  blessedness,  congenial 
associations.  And  hell  is  the  opposite  of  these  in  a  soul.  If 
we  would  be  happier,  nobler,  and  more  blessed,  we  must  live 
daily  with  that  purpose  in  view,  eschewing  all  evil,  seeking 
only  that  which  is  good;  and  if  we  would  have  heaven  beyond, 
we  must  strive  for  heavenly-mindedness  here.  "  Whatsoever 
a  man  soweth  that  shall  he  also  reap." 

But  there  are  worse  things  than  death.  That  is  not  the  great- 
est calamity  that  can  befall  a  man.  Death  levels,  yet  ennobles. 
Love  is  greater  than  death.  Duty  fulfilled  makes  death  restful; 
dishonor  makes  death  terrible.  "I  bless  the  Lord,"  said  Sir 
Harry  Vane,  before  his  execution  on  Tower  Hill,  "  that  I  have 
not  desei"ted  the  righteous  cause  for  which  I  suffer!"  When 
Sir  Walter  Raleigh  was  laid  on  the  block,  he  was  told  by  the 
executioner  to  lie  with  his  head  toward  the  east.  "No  mat- 
ter how  the  head  lies,"  was  his  reply,  "  so  that  the  heart  be 
right." 

Duties  are  ours,  events  are  God's. —  Cecil. 


THE  SONG  OF  ABEL  IN  HE  A  VEN.  837 

©HE  Song  op  fiBBL  in  P^baven. 

Ten  thousand  times  ten  thousand  sung 
Loud  anthems  round  the  throne, 
When  lo!  one  soUtary  tongue 

Began  a  song  unknown — 
A  song  unknown  to  angel  ears, 
A  song  that  told  of  banished  fears, 
Of  pardoned  sins  and  dried-up  tears. 

Not  one  of  all  the  heavenly  host 
,     Could  these  high  notes  attain, 
But  spirits  from  a  distant  coast* 

United  in  the  strain; 
Till  he  who  first  began  the  song, 
To  sing  alone  not  suffered  long. 
Was  mingled  with  a  countless  throng. 

And  still  as  hours  are  fleeting  by. 

The  angels  ever  bear 

Some  newly-ransomed  soul  on  high 

To  join  the  chorus  there; 
And  so  the  song  will  louder  grow, 
Till  all  redeemed  by  Christ  below, 
To  that  fair  land  of  rapture  go. 

O  give  me,  Lord,  my  golden  harp. 
And  tune  my  broken  voice. 
That  I  may  sing  of  troubles  sharp 

Exchanged  for  endless  joys; 
The  song  that  ne'er  was  heard  before, 
A  sinner  reached  the  heavenly  shore. 
But  now  shall  sound  forevermore. 

A  little  girl  in  Louisville  was  recently  saying  her  prayers. 
After  going  through  her  little  prayer,  she  asked  God  to  bless 
papa,  mamma,  brother,  and  sister,  and  then  added,  "and  above 
all,  God,  please  make  us  very  stylish."  That  prayer  tells  what 
is  the  ruling  desire  hi  that  home.  And  is  not  the  desire  to  be 
stylish  the  ruling  motive  in  many  a  home,  where  it  is  not  thus 
honestly  confessed?  Alas!  that  people  should  care  more  for 
stylishness  than  for  character — a  thousand  times,  alas! 


838  BELIGIOUS  DEPARTMENT. 

Sbiptle  Disputes  with  ©i^AYEr^. 


SPURGEON. 


Two  neighbors,  a  cooper  and  a  farmer,  were  spending  the 
evening  together.  Both  were  professors  of  religion,  but  of  dif- 
ferent communions.  Their  conversation  was  first  upon  topics 
relating  to  practical  religion;  but  after  a  time  it  diverged  to  the 
point,  of  difference  between  the  two  denominations  to  which 
they  belonged.  It  first  became  a  discussion,  then  a  dispute. 
The  cooper  was  the  first  to  perceive  its  unprofitable  and  injuri- 
ous tendency,  and  -remarked:  "We  are  springing  apart  fi-om 
each  other;  let  us  put  on  another  hoop — let  us  pray."  They 
knelt  down  and  prayed  together,  after  which  they  spent  the 
remainder  of  the  evening  lovingly  together,  conversing  on  the 
things  of  the  kingdom  in  which  they  both  felt  an  equal  inter- 
est.    The  suggestion  of  the  cooper  was  an  exciellent  one. 

©HE   liOr^D'S   ^I^AYEI^. 

The  following  composition  -vvas  found  in  Charleston,  S.  C, 
during  the  war.  It  was  printed  on  very  heavy  satin,  and  is 
quite  a  literary  curiosity: 

Thou  to  the  mercy-seat  our  souls  doth  gather, 

To  do  our  duty  unto  thee — "our  Father," 

To  whom  all  praise,  all  honor,  should  be  given; 

For  thou  art  the  great  God — "  who  art  in  heaven." 

Thou  by  thy  wisdom  rulest  the  world's  whole  frame; 

Forever,  therefore — "hallowed  be  thy  name." 

Let  nevermore  delays  divide  us  from 

Thy  glorious  grace,  but  let — "  thy  kingdom  come," 

And  let  our  promptness  to  obey  l^e  even 

The  very  same — "in  earth  as  it  is  in  heaven." 

Then  for  our  souls,  O  Lord,  we  also  pray. 

That  thou  vv'ouldst  be  pleased  to — "  give  us  this  day  " 

The  food  of  life  wherewith  our  souls  are  fed, 

Sufficient  raiment,  and — "our  daily  bread;" 

With  every  needful  thing  do  thou  relieve  us, 

And  of  thy  mercy  pity — "and  forgive  us" 

All  our  misdeeds,  for  Him  whom  thou  did'st  please 

To  make  me,  for — "our  trespasses," 


THE  PASTORS  PliA  YER.  839 

And  forasmuch,  O  Lord,  as  we  believe 
That  thou  wilt  pardon  us — "as  we  forgive." 
Last  that  love  teach,  wherewith  thou  dost  acquaint  us, 
.    To  pardon  all — "those  who  trespass  against  us;" 
And  though,  sometimes,  thou  findest  we  have  forgot 
This  love  for  thee,  yet  help — "  and  lead  us  not," 
Through  soul  or  body's  want,  to  desperation. 
Nor  let  earth's  gain  drive  us — "into  temptation;" 
Let  not  the  soul  of  any  true  believer 
Fall  in  the  line  of  trial—"  but  deliver," 
Yea,  save,  them  from  the  malice  of  the  devil. 
And  both  in  life  and  death,  keep — "  us  from  evil." 
Thus  we  pray,  Lord,  for  that  of  thee,  from  whom 
This  may  be  had — "for  thine  is  the  kingdom." 
This  world  is  of  thy  work,  its  wondrous  story 
To  thee  belongs — "the  power  and  the  glory;" 
And  all  thy  wondrous  works  have  ended  never, 
But  will  remain  forever  and — "forever." 
Thus  we  poor  creatures  must  confess  again, 
And  thus  would  say  eternally — "Amen!" 

She  ^astof^'s  ^i^aybi^. 

If  I  should  seem  to  labor  in  vain,  let  not  my  heart  fail;  move 
me  by  thy  Spirit  to  persevere.  It  may  be  that  thou  hereby  dc- 
sirest  to  keep  me  humble,  and  to  make  me  feel  my  own  insuf- 
ficiency, and  to  trust  more  entirely  to  thy  grace,  and  to  seek  thy 
help  more  earnestly  in  prayer.  It  may  be  thou  makest  trial  of 
my  patience,  withholding  a  blessing,  that  I  may  seek  it  with 
more  importunity,  and  continue  laboring  in  faith.  Or  it  may 
be  thou  givest  me  no  visible  success  that  I  may  the  more  indis- 
tractedly  desire  the  final  and  inost  glorious  recompense  of  faith. 
Thou  canst  give  when  thou  wilt;  if  not  in  my  day,  give  it  after- 
ward; make  me  content  to  do  without  visible  fruit  of  my  labors 
in  this  life. 

The  man  who  has  an  empty  cup  may  pray  and  should  pray 
that  it  may  be  filled;  but  he  who  has  a  full  cup  should  pray  that 
he  might  hold  it  firmly.  It  needs  prayer  in  prosperity  that  we 
may  have  grace  to  use  it,  as  truly  as  it  needs  prayer  in  poverty 
that  we  may  have  grace  to  bear  it. 


840  RELIGIOUS  DEPARTMENT. 

^I^AGTIGAL   FjBLIGION. 

It  is  all  well  enough  to  talk  about  heart  religion  and  spiritual 
worship,  but  the  world  will  not  be  greatly  influenced  by  preach- 
ers who  shut  their  eyes  and  ears  against  the  cries  of  suffering 
bodies.  The  man  who  professes  a  religion  of  faith,  and  says, 
"Be  thou  clothed,"  or  "Be  thou  fed,"  and  yet  offers  no  food  or 
clothing  to  the  suffering,  would  render  the  cause  of  Christ  more 
efficient  service  by  keeping  his  mouth  shut.  The  man  who  in 
all  his  prayers  repeats  the  stereotyped  phrase,  "  God,  remember 
the  widow  and  the  orphan  in  their  affliction,"  and  yet  fails  to 
make  them  such  visits  as  bringsthem  relief,  is  deceiving  him- 
self worse  than  he  is  those  who  hear  his  beautiful  prayers. 
Pure  religion  before  God  is  this:  To  visit  the  fatherless  and  the 
widow,  and  to  keep  himself  unspotted  from  the  world. 

A  good  story  is  told  of  a  fruitless  visit,  upon  one  occasion. 
A  poor  brother  had  been  sick  a  long  time,  and  his  family  were 
suffering.  The  members  of  the  Church  gathered  at  his  house 
to  hold  a  prayer-meeting.  In  the  midst  of  the  service  a  boy, 
the  son  of  a  deacon,  came  in  and  said,  "Dad  said  he  could  not 
come  this  evening,  but  he  sent  his  prayers,"  and  he  proceeded 
to  dump  out  a  wheelbarrow  load  of  flour,  meal,  meat,  and  such 
other  things  as  a  suffering  family  needs.  It  is  said  that  the 
meeting  at  once  adjourned.  Of  course  gifts  to  the  needy  can- 
not be  a  substitute  for  prayer  to  God.  But  we  have  heard  men 
pray  when  we  thought  their  prayers  would  be  much  more  likely 
to  reach  heaven  if  a  boy  had  been  on  the  way  to  a  suffering 
family  w'ith  a  sack  of  flour  or  a  piece  of  meat. 

Sir  Matthew  Hale  says,  "  If  I  omit  praying  and  reading  God's 
word  in  the  morning,  nothing  goes  well  all  day."  Dr.  R.  R. 
Meredith  says,  "There  are  no  better  robes  in  which  to  be  found 
at  the  time  of  Christ's  second  coming  than  your  working 
clothes."  General  Havelock  rose  at  four,  if  the  hour  for  march- 
ing was  at  six,  rather  than  lose,  the  precious  privilege  of  com- 
munion with  God  before  setting  out. 

Satan  always  rocks  the  cradle  when  we  sleep  at  our  devo- 
tions. If  we  would  prevail  with  God,  we  must  wrestle;  and 
if  we  would  wrestle  happily  with  God,  we  must  wrestle  first 
with  our  own  dullness. — Bishop  Hall. 


THE  MODEL  SERMON.  841 

She  (QoDBii  Sbi^mon. 

It  should  be  brief:  if  lengthy  it  will  steep 
Our  hearts  in  apathy,  our  eyes  in  sleep, 
The  dull  will  yawn,  the  chapel-lounger  doze, 
Attention  flag,  and  memory's  portals  close. 

It  should  be  warm:  a  living  altar-coal. 
To  melt  the  icy  heart  and  warm  the  soul; 
A  sapless,  dull  harangue,  however  read. 
Will  never  rouse  the  soul  nor  wake  the  dead. 

It  should  be  simple,  practical,  and  clear, 
No  fine-spun  theory  to  please  the  ear. 
No  curious'lay  to  tickle  lettered  pride, 
And  leave  the  poor  and  plain  unedified. 

It  should  be  manly,  just,  and  rational. 
Wisely  conceived  and  well  expressed  withal. 
Not  stuffed  with  silly  notions,  such  as  stain 
A  sacred  desk  and  show  a  muddy  brain. 

It  should  be  mixed  with  many  an  ardent  prayer, 
To  reach  the  heart  and  fix  and  fasten  there. 
When  God  and  man  are  mutually  addressed, 
God  grants  a  blessing — man  is  truly  blessed. 

I  like  that  saying  of  Martin  Luther  when  he  says,  "  I  have 
so  much  business  to  do  to-day  that  I  shall  not  be  able  to  get 
through  it  with  less  than  three  hours'  prayer."  Now,  most 
people  would  say,  "I  have  so  much  business  to  do  to-day  that 
I  have  only  three  minutes  for  prayer.  I  cannot  afford  the  time." 
But  Luther  thought  the  more  he  had  to  do  the  more  he  had  to 
pray,  or  else  he  could  not  get  through  it.  That  is  a  blessed 
kind  of  logic — may  we  understand  it!  "Prayer  and  provender 
hinder  no  man's  journey."  If  we  have  to  stop  to  pray,  it  is  no 
more  a  hinderance  than  when  the  rider  has  to  stop  at  the  far- 
rier's to  have  his  horse's  shoe  fastened;  for  if  he  went  on  with- 
out attending  to  that,  it  may  be  erelong  he  would  come  to  a 
stop  of  a  far  more  serious  kind.— ^C.  H.  Spurgeon. 

The  Bible  without  the  Spirit  is  a  sun-dial  by  moon-light. 


842  BELIGIOUS  DEPARTMENT. 

^N    GNGLISH    nOBLBMAN   AS  A   I^EPOI^MEI^. 

His  name  is  Lord  Adalbert  Cecil,  and  he  was  a  lieutenant- 
colonel  in  the  British  army.  After  middle-life,  while  still  in  the 
army,  he  heard  voices  and  dreamed  dreams  which  changed  him 
from  a  lover  of  things  fleshly  to  a  Christian  missionary.  He 
distributed  $30,000  per  annum  among  the  poor,  prayed  and 
preached  to  them,  and  became  so  zealous  in  good  and  pious 
works  as  to  excite  the  wrath  of  the  British  military  authorities. 
He  was  told  he  must  stop  preaching  or  resign.  He  chose  the 
latter  alternative,  and  emigrated  to  the  Dominion.  Here  he 
took  a  boat  on  the  St.  Lawrence,  hired  a  tent,  and  preached  the 
Word  as  he  understood  it  in  every  village  he  passed  through. 
Up  the  St.  Lawrence  and  Ottawa,  and  along  the  north  shore 
of  Lake  Ontario,  he  has  preached  with  acceptance  and  estab- 
lished permanent  congregations.  His  ministry  has  been  among 
the  poor,  whose  necessities  he  relieved,  with  whom  he  lived 
and  to  whom  he  preached  the  gospel  of  humility  and  good 
works.  He  does  not  believe  in  splendid  churches  or  showy 
ritual,  and  he  eschews  all  ostentatious  parade.  I^e  aspires  to 
follow  the  example  of  the  primitive  Christians.  At  last  ac- 
counts he  was  about  to  transfer  the  field  of  his  labors  to  New 
York  State.  A  strange  spectacle  this — a  wealthy  nobleman  of 
the  great  house  of  Cecil  pi'eaching  Christ  and  him  crucified  to 
the  poor  and  the  outcast!  A  contrast  this  to  his  brother  noble- 
men, whose  money  is  too  often  spent  in  dissipation  and  Jiorse- 
races. 

Hudson's  I^ules. 

1.  Observe  the  seasons  of  secret  prayer  every  day. 

2.  Set  a  watch  before  my  mouth,  and  keep  the  door  of  my 
lips. 

3.  See  the  hand  of  God  in  all  events,  and  thereby  become 
reconciled  to  his  dispensations. 

4.  Embrace  every  opportunity  of  exercising  kind  feelings, 
and  doing  good  to  others,  especially  to  those  of  the  household 
of  faith. 

5.  Consult  the  internal  monitor  on  every  occasion,  and  in- 
stantly comply  with  his  dictates. 

6.  Believe  in  the  doctrine  of  perfect  sanctification,  attainable 
in  this  life. 


THE  OLD  WAY-TRAIN.  843 

Use  (Qfi,  God. 

Use  me,  God,  in  thy  great  harvest-field, 

Which  stretchcth  far  and  wide,  like  a  white  sea; 

The  gatherers  arc  so  few,  I  fear  the  precious  yield 
Will  suffer  loss.     O  find  a  place  for  me! 

A  place  where  best  the  strength  I  have  will  tell — 

It  may  be  one  the  other  toilers  shun; 
Be  it  a  wide  or  narrow  place,  'tis  well. 

So  that  the  work  it  holds  be  only  done. 

She  Old  ^ay-ifi^ain. 

The  old  way-train  does  not  make  much  of  a  show  beside  the 
"lightning  express,"  that  comes  with  -a  shriek  and  a  dash,  and 
almost  takes  your  breath  away  as  it  goes  shooting  by,  crashing 
— and  sometimes  smashing — down  the  track.  The  lightning 
express  has  all  the  latest  impi'ovements,  the  most  recent  touches 
of  the  painter's  brush,  and  the  most  distinguished  freight.  But 
the  way -train  that  jogs  along,  slow  as  an  old  stage-coach  among 
the  March  ruts  sometimes,  is  made  up  of  the  cars  whose  up- 
holstery is  worn  and  faded,  and  as  fot  improvements,  who  ex- 
pects them.'*  But  the  old  way-train,  stopping  at  so  man}-  sta- 
tions to  take  breath,  picks  up  many  passengers.  We  have  seen 
an  "express"  that  went  lightly  loaded,  but  the  old  way-train 
often  goes  crowded. 

We  thank  God  for  the  express-train  men  in  the  Church. 
They  do  conspicuous  service,  though  their  "  latest  improve- 
ments "  are  not  always  wise.  But  the  old  way-train  men,  slower 
in  action,  old-fashioned  in  talk  and  dress,  do  take  many  passen- 
gers to  heaven.  They  call  at  so  many  humble  little  stations  that 
you  may  not  appreciate  their  work,  but  it  tells,  and  when  the 
old  way-train  rolls  and  thunders  into  the  station,  be  assured 
there  will  be  passengers  on  board. 

Remember  that  when  you  kneel  down  and  thank  God  for 
protection  from  the  blast,  and  for  food  and  health,  that  he  is 
looking  at  the  shivering  animals  in  the  cattle-yard  and  in  the 
barn.  They  may  so  take  his  merciful  attention  that  he  will  re- 
fuse to  listen  to  you.  Christ  honored  no  man's  house  by  his 
advent.     He  was  born  in  a  stable. 


844  RELIGIO  US  JDEPAB  TMENT. 

A.  T,  Stewart  and  W.  E.  Dodge  started  in  business  in  New- 
York  City  about  the  same  time.  They  succeeded.  Both  suc- 
ceeded greatly,  one  grandly.  Perhaps  the  first  made  ten  mill- 
ions where  the  second  made  one  million.  The  second  left  an 
estate  of  about  six  millions.  He  gave  away  about  $100,000  a 
year.  The  other  left  an  immense  fortune  and  an  immense  bus- 
iness. They  have  both  gone  over  to  the  majority — the  one,  sev- 
eral years  ago;  the  other,  several  days  ago.  Which  succeeded 
grandly  ?  The  boy  who,  converted  at  a  Methodist  class-meeting 
at  twelve  years  of  age,  became  the  leading  philanthropist  of  his 
generation;  or  the  boy  who  was  thought  of  for  the  ministry  by 
the  admirers  of  his  early  promise,  but  whom  the  greed  of  gain 
converted  into  a  splendid  miser? 

G5HBEL(BAI^I^0W   FJbligion. 

Richard  Baxter  said  a  good  thing  when  he  said  of  some  who 
lived  in  his  day  that  they  "had  a  wheelbarrow  religion" — they 
"went  when  they  were  shoved."  It  would  be  hard  to  find  a 
better  name  for  the  religion  of  many  who  live  now.  Many 
people  are  very  like  wheelbarrows,  and  no  laborer  plodding  up 
and  down  a  steep  incline  has  harder  and  more  weary  work  than 
those  whose  duty  it  is  to  push  them.  As  often  as  not  they  are 
quite  empty.  They  take  what  is  put  into  them,  whether  it  be 
good  or  worthless.  Whatever  knowledge  or  feeling  of  duty 
they  have  is  proof  of  some  one  else's  work.  They  are  easily 
upset  and  emptied,  and  they  have  no  power  or  will  to  get  up 
again.     They  move  as  a  firm  hand  grasps  them. 

How  the  angels  must  smile  when  they  see  a  man  whom  God 
has  greatly  prospered  carefully  take  a  hundred  dollars  out  of  a 
hundred  thousand  that  he  has  laid  away,  and  hear  him  say  to 
himself,  with  a  chuckle  of  self-complacency:  "Yes,  we  are  only 
stewards;  we  must  deal  generously  by  these  good  causes.  I 
will  give  that  to  the  Lord."  A  pauper  giving  crumbs  in  char- 
ity to  the  King  on  whom  he  depends  for  daily  bread !  But  then 
there  are  some  who  do  not  give  even  the  crumbs. 

Every  man  in  the  world  who  gives  blows  must  take  blows. 


A  WELL-MERITED  REBUKE.  845 

fl  Boy's  Liogig. 

A  boy  astonished  his  Christian  mother  by  asking  her  for  a 
dollar  to  buy  a  share  in  a  raffle  for  a  silver  watch  that  was  to 
be  raffled  off  in  a  beer  saloon.  His  mother  was  horrified,  and 
rebuked  him. 

"But,"  said  he,  "mother,  did  you  not  bake  a  cake  with  a  ring 
in  it  to  be  raffled  off  in  a  Sunday-school  fair?" 

"O  my  son,"  said  she,  "that  was  for  the  Church." 

"But  if  it' was  wrong,"  said  the  boy,  "would  doing  it  for  the 
Church  make  it  right?  Would  it  be  right  for  me  to  steal  money 
to  put  in  the  collection?  And  if  it  is  right  for  this,  is  it  not 
right  for  me  to  get  this  watch  if  I  can?" 

The  good  woman  was  speechless,  and  no  person  can  answer 
the  boy's  argument.  The  practices  are  both  wrong,  or  they  are 
both  right. 

P  ^BliL-MEI^IIiED   I^BBUI^B. 

A  certain  writer  administers  a  sharp  rebuke  to  those  persons 
who  are  lavish  in  every  thing  but  charity,  and  says: 

I  have  seen  a  woman  professing  to  love  Christ  more  than  the 
world  clad  in  a  silk  dress  costing  $75;  make-up  and  trimming 
of  same,  $40;  bonnet,  or  apology  for  one,  $35;  velvet  mantle, 
$150;  diamond  ring,  $500;  watch,  chain,  ring,  and  other  trap- 
pings, $300;  total,  $1,100 — all  hung  upon  one  frail,  dying  worm. 
I  have  seen  her  at  a  meeting  in  behalf  of  homeless  wanderers 
in  New  York  wipe  her  eyes  upon  an  expensive  embroidered 
handkerchief  at  the  story  of  their  sufferings,  and  when  the  con- 
tribution-box came  around  take  from  a  well-filled  portmonaie 
of  costly  workmanship  twenty-five  cents  to  aid  the  society  to 
promote  their  welfare. 

A  number  of  manners  on  a  certain  occasion,  following  infal- 
libly the  direction  of  the  compass,  finally  found  themselves  in 
an  enemy's  port,  where  they  were  seized  and  made  slaves. 
The  cause  of  this  w^s,  the  captain,  in  order  to  betray  the  ship, 
had  concealed  a  large  loadstone  at  a  little  distance  on  one  side 
of  the  needle.  So  men  are  misguided  by  a  perverted  will  act- 
ing upon  the  conscience.  They  follow  what  course  the  cop- 
science  directs,  and  are  led  into  moral  bondage.  The  conscience 
is  deceived  by  the  will. — McCosh. 


846  religious  department. 

CQyi^i^h-bbai^ei^s. 


BY  MARGARET  J.  PRESTON. 


Three  women  crept,  at  break  of  day, 
Agrope  along  the  shadowy  way 
Where  Joseph's  tomb  and  garden  lay. 
Each  on  her  throbbing  bosom  bore 
A  burden  of  such  fragrant  store  « 

As  never  there  had  laid  before; 
Spices,  the  purest,  richest,  best. 
That  e'er  the  musky  East  possessed, 
From  Ind  to  Araby-the-Blest. 

Had  they,  with  sorrow-riven  hearts, 
Searched  all  Jerusalem's  costliest  marts 
In  quest  of  nards,  whose  pungent  arts 
Should  the  dead  sepulcher  imbue 
With  vital  odors  through  and  through; 
'Twas  all  their  love  had  leave  to  do! 

Christ  did  not  need  their  gifts:  and  yet 

Did  either  Mary  once  regret 

Her  offering?     Did  Salome  fret 

Over  the  unused  aloes?     Nay! 

They  did  not  count  as  waste,  that  da}^ 

What  they  had  brought  their  Lord.     The  wa}^ 

Home  seemed  the  path  to  heaven.     They  bare, 

Thenceforth,  about  the  robes  they  wear, 

The  clinging  perfume  every-where. 

vSo,  ministering,  as  erst  did  these, 

Go  women  forth  by  twos  and  threes 

(Unmindful  of  their  morning  ease), 

Through  tragic  darkness,  murk  jmd  dim, 

Where'er  they  see  the  faintest  rim 

Of  promise — all  for  sake  of  Him 

Who  rose  from  Joseph's  tomb.     They  hold 

It  just  such  joy  as  these  of  old 

To  tell  the  tale  the  Marys  told. 


SWEETNESS  OF  SPIRIT.  847 

Myrrh -bearers  still — at  home,  abroad, 
What  paths  have  holy  women  trod, 
Burdened  with  votive  gifts  for  God — 
Rare  gifts,  whose  chiefcst  worth  was  priced 
By  this  one  thought,  that  all  sufficed: 
Their  spices  have  been  bruised  for  Christ! 

SWKEIPNBSS  OP   SPII^III. 

There  are  some  Christian  men  who  somehow  carry  the  charm 
of  an  attractive  atmosphere  with  them.  It  is  a  pleasure  just  to 
look  at  them.  Even  when  one  differs  in  judgment  with  them 
as  far  as  the  poles  are  asunder,  one  is  none  the  less  drawn 
toward  and  fascinated  by  them.  There  is  such  sweetness  in 
their  spirit,  gracious  gentleness  in  their  manner,  such  kindly 
catholicity,  such  manly  frankness,  such  thorough  self-respect  on 
one  hand,  and  on  the  other  hand  such  perfect  regard  for  the 
judgment  of  others,  that  one  cannot  help  loving  them  however 
conscience  may  compel  conclusions  on  matters  of  mutual  conse- 
quence, unlike  those  which  they  have  reached. 

Those  are  not  weak  men,  either.  What  people  like  in  them 
is  not  that,  with  the  everlasting  unvaryingness  of  a  mirror,  they 
reflect  back  the  thought  which  is  presented  to  them,  and  so  are 
always  at  an  agreement  with  others.  Sometimes  one  is  even 
more  drawn  to  them  when  they  are  in  opposition,  because  they 
are  so  true  and  just  that  their  respect  carries  with  it  all  the  re- 
freshment of  variety,  with  none  of  the  friction  of  hostility. 

Natural  temper  has  something  to  do  with  this.  God  gives  a 
great  gift  to  a  man  when  he  gives  him  a  sunny  disposition,  a 
candid  spirit,  and  the  instinct  of  fairness  in  a  controversy.  It 
is  exceedingly  hard  for  some  men  to  be  just.  They  are  jealous, 
suspicious,  and  morose  in  their  natural  bent.  It  is  hard  for  them 
to  believe  good  of  others.  It  is  easy  for  them  always  to  put 
the  worst  construction  upon  matters.  It  sometimes  seems  as  if 
it  were  almost  more  than  grace  itself  can  do  to  transform  their 
tempers  so  that  they  will  be  just  toward  any  man  against  whom 
they  have  been  led  to  have  a  prejudice. 

I  longed  to  be  as  a  flame  of  fire,  continually  glowing  in  the 
Divine  service,  preaching  and  building  up  Christ's  kingdom  to 
my  latest,  to  my  dying  hour. — B^ainard. 


848  EELIGIOUS  DEPARTMENT. 

BUI^DBN-BBAr^ING. 

If  the  burdens  that  press  upon  weary  hearts  were  as  visible 
to  the  eye  as  those  which  press  on  weary  shoulders,  we  should 
see  strange  revelations  of  human  frailty,  infirmity,  sorrow,  and 
sin.  If  we  could  walk  up  and  down  the  city  streets  amid  the 
thronging  thousands  that  crowd  the  world's  highway,  and  if 
instead  of  scanning  the  careworn  countenances,  or  seeking  to 
read  in  the  imperturbable  features  some  token  of  the  hidden 
workings  of  the  mind,  we  should  see  at  a  glance  the  v^hole 
array  of  sorrows,  temptations,  fears,  and  cares  piled  in  mighty 
masses  upon  the  shoulders  of  the  passers-by,  we  should  be 
astonished  at  the  results  of  our  observation. 

We  should  see  those  whom  we  counted  as  strong  totter  feebly 
on  their  way;  we  should  see  those  who  seem  to  us  erect  and 
upright  as  the  palm-tree,  bent  and  bowed  beneath  the  weight 
of  sin  and  pain.  Many  of  those  whom  we  have  looked  upon 
with  envy  we  should  look  on  with  compassion,  and  from  some 
in  whom  we  confide,  we  should  recoil  in  astonishment,  and  lift 
up  on  their  behalf  a  pitying  prayer. 

There  are  many  of  us  who  think  our  load  heavy  who  would 
not  have  the  least  desire  to  exchange  our  burdens  for  the  bur- 
dens of  those  we  envy,  and  many  of  us  would  thank  God  for 
the  lighter  cross  he  has  called  us  to  bear,  but  which  in  times 
past  has  seemed  a  load  too  grievous,  to  be  endured. 

"Bear  ye  one  another's  burdens,  and  so  fulfill  the  law  of 
Christ."  And  since  it  is  beyond  our  power  to  always  know 
the  burden  of  another,  let  us  be  tender,  patient,  pitiful,  and 
compassionate  to  all,  knowing  that  in  a  sinful  world  there  are 
none  that  do  not  need  our  sympathy  and  prayers,  none  who  do 
not  bear  burdens,  none  who  are  exempt  from  pains,  and  woes, 
and  tears! 

To  walk  as  becomes  a  Christian  is  to  walk  worthy  of  eter- 
nity. So  this  world  shall  not  unduly  excite,  when  it  looms  up 
large,  nor  unduly  depress  when  it  breaks  and  fails.  As  the 
mountains  are  round  about  Jerusalem,  so  will  the  white  mount- 
ains of  eternity  dignify  the  believer's  lowly  walk  under  their 
shadows,  and  sustain  the  pulses  that  otherwise  would  flag,  with 
the  thought  that  he  is  called  some  day  to  walk  their  flashing 
summits. 


A  CHHIST-LIKE  DEED.  849 

fl  @Hi^isT-LiKB  Deed. 

The  following  touching  incident,  which  drew  tears  from  my 
eyes,  was  rehited  to  me  a  short  time  since  by  a  dear  friend  who 
had  it  from  an  eye-witness  of  the  same.  It  occurred  in  the 
great  city  of  New  York  on  one  of  the  coldest  days  in  February, 

A  little  boy  about  ten  years  old  was  standing  before  a  shoe- 
store  in  Broadway,  barefooted,  peering  through  the  window 
and  shivering  with  cold. 

A  lady  riding  up  the  street  in  a  beautiful  carriage,  drawn  by 
horses  finely  caparisoned,  observed  the  little  fellow  in  his  for- 
lorn condition,  and  immediately  ordered  the  driver  to  draw  up 
and  stop  in  front  of  the  store.  The  lady,  richly  dressed  in  silks, 
alighted  from  the  carriage,  went  quietly  to  the  boy,  and  said: 

"  My  little  fellow,  why  are  you  looking  so  earnestly  in  that 
window?" 

"  I  was  just  asking  God  to  give  me  a  pair  a  shoes,"  was  the 
reply. 

The  lady  took  him  by  the  hand  and  went  into  the  store  and 
asked  the  proprietor  if  he  would  allow  one  of  his  clerks  to  go 
and  buy  her  half  a  dozen  pairs  of  stockings  for  the  boy.  He 
readily  assented.  She  then  asked  him  if  he  would  give  her  a 
basin  of  water  and  a  towel,  and  he  replied,  "Certainly,"  and 
quickly  brought  them  to  her. 

She  took  the  little  fellow  to  the  back  part  of  the  store,  and, 
removing  her  gloves,  knelt  down  and  washed  those  little  feet, 
and  dried  them  with  the  towel. 

By  this  time  the  young  man  had  returned  with  the  stockings. 
Placing  a  pair  upon  his  feet,  she  purchased  and  gave  him  a 
pair  of  shoes,  and  tying  up  the  remaining  pairs  of  stockings, 
gave  them  to  him,  and  patting  him  on  the  head,  said,  "  I  hope, 
my  little  fellow,  that  you  now  feel  more  comfortable." 

As  she  turned  to  go,  the  astonished  lad  took  her  hand,  and 
looking  up  in  her  face  with  tears  in  his  eyes,  answered  her 
question  with  these  words,  "Are  you  God's  wife?" 

When  faith  and  hope  fail,  as  they  do  sometimes,  we  must  try 
charity,  which  is  love  in  action.  We  must  speculate  no  more 
on  our  duty,  but  simply  do  it.  When  we  have  done  it  however 
blindly,  perhaps  Heaven  will  show  us  the  reason  why. — Dinah 
Muloch. 
54 


850  MELiaiOUS  DEPARTMENT. 

I^BST    IN.  THE    liOI^D. 


BY  MAEGAEET  E.  SANGSTEE. 


Is  there  storm  in  the  cloud,  is  there  gloom  in  the  sky? 
O  rest  in  the  Lord  till  the  tempest  pass  by.  ' 

He  is  pledged  to  defend  thee,  his  might  is  thy'shield — 
Trust  all  to  the  love  in  thy  Saviour  revealed. 

Is  the  path  of  thy  feet  thick  with  brier  and  thorn? 
Do  hinderances  meet  thee  at  eve  and  at  morn? 
And  oft  art  thou  w^eary,  as  oft  art  dismayed? 
O  rest  in  the  Lord,  nor  be  w^eakly  afraid. 

Surely,  all  things  together  shall  work  for  thy  good — 

Among  them,  the  things  that  are  least  understood — 

The  losses,  the  crosses,  the  griefs,  and  the  cares. 

And  the  pain,  blessed  thought!  that  the  Lord  with  thee  shares. 

O  rest  in  the  Lord!  wherefore  struggle  in  vain 
And  fret  like  a  captive  who  tugs  at  a  chain? 
'Tis  resting,  not  toiling,  he  gives  thee  to-day; 
'Tis  waiting,  not  weeping,  O  hear  and  obey. 

Dear  child  of  thy  Father  in  heaven,  be  sure 
Whatever  he  sends  he  will  help  thee  endure; 
And  in  the  hereafter  thine  eyes  shall  behold 
Himself  in  the  light  of  the  city  of  gold. 

Then  sight  shall  be  thine  where  to-day  thou  hast  faith 
And  fullness  of  vision,  for  so  the  word  saith; 
But  O  'tis  so  sweet  here  to  trust  to  his  love; 
What  wisdom  may  reckon  the  treasure  above! 

Even  a  word  spoken  in  good  season  is  long  remembered. 
The  famous  Dr.  Sydenham  remarked  that  everybody,  some 
time  or  other,  would  be  the  better  or  the  worse  for  having  but 
spoken  to  a  good  or  bad  man.  The  curate  of  Olney,  the  friend 
of  Cowper,  was  one  of  those  persons  to  whom  but  few  peo- 
ple could  speak  without  being  the  better  for  it.  He  once  said 
of  himself  that  "he  could  live  no  longer  than  he  could  love." 


h unqr y  hearts.  851 

Bbai^ing  the  (Si^oss. 

A  father  is  perplexed  because  he  feels  he  must  begin  family 
prayer  the  moment  he  becomes  a  Christian.  A  student  knows 
that  if  he  gets  an  education  he  will  have  to  be  a  preacher.  A 
mother  understands  that  she  must  dress  her  children  more  mod- 
estly, and  in  some  cases  change  their  companionships,  ajid  alter 
their  amusements,  the  moment  she  joins  the  Church.  A  busi- 
ness man  sees  that  he  will  be  compelled  to  break  up  his  part- 
nership, and  possibly  relinquish  a  profitable  business,  if  he 
declares  for  Christ.  A  young  girl  is  afraid  of  the  anger  of  her 
ungodly  father  if  she  says  she  means  to  lead  a  religious  life. 
In  the  bright  book,  "  School-days  at  Rugby,"  little  Arthur  is 
dreadfully  troubled  to  know  what  he  will  do  when  he  goes  to 
bed  before  all  the  other  boys,  for  he  supposes  they  will  laugh 
when  they  see  him  kneel  down  to  say  his  prayers. 

These  are  what  is  meant  here  by  "  crosses."  And  the  verse 
says  plainly  that  they  are  not  to  be  dreaded,  nor  shirked,  nor 
denied;  they  are  to  be  taken  up  and  borne  bravely  and  cheer- 
fully. 

F^UNGI^Y    r^BAI^iPS. 

In  our  hurrying,  working  life,  I  wonder  if  we  think  of  the 
aching,  hungry  hearts  about  us,  the  sighs,  the  all-aloneness  that 
comes  over  us,  almost  crushing  us  with  its  utter  sorrow.  I  re- 
member once,  a  long  time  ago,  of  a  little  girl  crying  pitifully. 
When  asked  the  matter,  she  replied,  "O  I  can't  tell;  my  heart 
aches  so!"  I  cried  too,  not  knowing  the  meaning,  but  later  I 
understood  the  little  one's  trouble.  No  one  can  stand  alone. 
We  have  the  Father,  and  he  comforts  us;  but  there  are  times 
when  we  want  some  hand  to  hold,  some  heart  to  lean  our  head 
upon,  some  strong,  generous,  true  soul  to  lean  upon,  to  sympa- 
thize, to  turn  our  disappointments  to  blessings,  to  make  us  rec- 
onciled to  the  bitter  stings,  thrusts,  unjustness.  It  is  the  cruel 
words  that  cut,  rankle,  and  live. 

O  learn  to  speak  kindly,  gently,  tenderly.  Those  very  words 
may  be  the  brightest  upon  your  record  of  eternity,  and  mark 
your  divine  right  to  a  heavenly  inheritance.  O  speak  kindly, 
dear  soul! 

Lying  for  the  truth  is  bad,  and  scolding  for  it  is  not  much 
better. 


852  BELIGIO  US  DEPAR  TMENT. 

yOUNG  pTHBISTS. 

A  suggestive  scene  took  place  lately  in  a  railroad  car  that  was 
crossing  the  Rocky  Mountains.  A  quiet  business-man,  who 
had  been  slowly  watching  the  vast  range  of  snow-clad  peaks 
seen  for  the  first  time,  said  to  his  companion: 

"No  man,  it  seems  to  me,  could  look  at  that  scene  without 
feeling  himself  brought  nearer  to  his  Creator." 

A  dapper  lad  of  eighteen,  who  had  been  chiefly  occupied  in 
caressing  his  mustache,  pertly  interrupted,  "  If  you  are  sure 
there  is  a  Creator." 

"Are  you  an  atheist.''"  asked  the  stranger,  turning  to  the  lad. 

"  I  am  an  agnostic,"  raising  his  voice.  "  I  am  investigating 
the  subject.  I  take  nothing  for  granted.  I  see  the  mountains, 
I  smell  the  rose,  I  hear  the  wind;  therefore,  I  believe  that 
mountains,  rose,  and  wind  exist.  But  I  cannot  see,  smell,  or 
hear  God.     Therefore " 

A  grizzled  old  cattle-raiser  opposite  glanced  over  his  specta- 
cles at  the  boy.  "Did  you  ever  try  to  smell  with  your  eyes?" 
he  said  quietly. 

"No." 

"Or  to  hear  with  your  tongue,  or  to  taste  with  your  ears?" 

"  Certainly  not." 

"Then,  why  do  you  try  to  apprehend  God  with  faculties 
which  are  only  meant  for  material  things?" 

"  With  what  should  I  apprehend  Him?"  said  the  youth,  with 
a  conceited  giggle. 

"With  your  intellect  and  soul;  but — I  beg  your  pardon!" 
here  he  paused;  "  some  men  haven't  breadth  and  depth  enough 
of  intellect  and  of  soul  to  do  this.  That  is  probably  the  reason 
you're  an  agnostic." 

The  laugh  in  the  car  effectually  stopped  the  display  of  any 
more  atheism  that  day. 

But  this  is  a  question  which  cannot  be  laughed  and  joked 
away.  Every  thinking  man  in  his  youth  must  face  for  himself 
that  terrible  problem  of  life,  "What  is  God?"  and  "  What  is  he 
to  me?"  As  a  young  man  decides  that  question  his  future  life 
takes  shape. 

Our  treatment  of  others  should  give  us  more  concern  than 
their  treatment  of  us. 


TEE  WA  Y  OF  THE  RAIN,  863 

<9HB  Way  op  the  FJain. 


BY  MBS.  A.  D.  T.  WHITNEY. 


I  heard  an  old  farmer  talk  one  day, 

Telling  his  listeners  how, 
In  the  wide,  new  country  far  away. 

The  rainfall  follows  the  plow. 

"As  fast  as  they  break  it  up,  you  see. 
And  turn  the  heart  to  the  sun. 
As  they  open  the  furrow  deep  and  free, 
And  the  tillage  is  begun, 

■    "The  earth  grows  mellow;  and  more  and  more 
It  holds  and  sends  to  the  sky 
A  moisture  it  never  had  before  • 
When  its  face  was  hard  and  dry. 

"And  so,  wherever  the  plowshares  run, 
The  clouds  run  overhead; 
And  the  soil  that  works,  and  lets  in  the  sun 
With  water  is  always  fed." 

I  wonder  if  that  old  farmer  knew 

The  half  of  his  simple  word. 
Or  guessed  the  message  that,  heavenly-true. 

Within  it  was  hidden  and  heard? 

It  fell  on  my  ear  by  chance  that  day; 

But  the  gladness  lingers  now. 
To  think  it  is  always  God's  dear  way 

That  the  rainfall  follows  the  plow. 

The  wheels  in  a  watch  or  a  clock  move  contrary  one  to  an- 
other— some  one  way,  some  another — yet  all  serve  the  intent  of 
the  workman,  to  show  the  time  or  to  make  the  clock  strike.  So 
in  the  world,  the  providence  of  God  may  seem  to  run  cross  to 
his  promises;  one  man  takes  this  way,  another  man  runs  that 
way;  good  men  go  one  way,  wicked  men  another.  Yet  all  in 
conclusion  accomplish  the  will  and  center  in  the  purpose  of 
God,  the  Creator  of  all  good  things. 


854  liELl GIO  US  BEPAR  TMENT. 

rjBMAI^I^ABLB   (©0IN6IDBN6B. 

Bishop  Chase,  of  Ohio,  on  his  return  from  a  visit  to  Wash- 
ington, stopped  af»  the  house  of  a  Mr.  Beck,  in  Philadelphia, 
and  while  staying  there  a  letter  reached  him  bearing  several 
postmarks.  It  was  written  in  England  by  Dr.  Ward,  Bishop 
of  Sodor  and  Man,  in  behalf  of  an  aged  person  in  his  diocese 
who  was  needy,  but  who  claimed  to  be  lawful  heir  to  certain 
property  in  America.  Names  were  given,  and  application  was 
made  to  Bishop  Chase  for  information  in  the  matter  if  he  could 
communicate  any.  He  certainly  could  not.  Naturally  enough, 
he  read  the  letter  to  his  friend,  but  before  he  had  finished  Mr. 
Beck  started  up  in  amazement. 

"  Bishop  Chase,"  he  exclaimed,  "  I  am  the  only  man  in  the 
world  that  can  give  you  the  information  that  letter  asks  for!  I 
have  the  deeds  in  my  possession,  and  have  had  them  for  forty- 
three  years,  not  knowing  what  to  do  with  them  or  where  any 
heirs  were  to  be  found." 

It  was  impossible  not  to  see  the  divine  shaping  of  circum- 
stances in  the  opening  of  that  letter,  so  nicely  and  wonderfully 
timed.  The  letter  had  reached  the  Bishop's  address  in  Ohio; 
had  followed  him  to  Washington,  and  followed  him  again  to 
Philadelphia,  till  he  received  it  in  the  presence  of  the  only  man 
who  could  answer  it. 

With  the  infinite  wealth  of  gospel  provision  at  our  command, 
we  often  live  on  the  mere  crumbs  that  fall  from  the  Master's  ta- 
ble. We  know  there  are  better  things  for  us,  but  we  fail  to  rise 
up  and  take  them.  As  the  farmer.often  sells  the  best  products 
of  his  field,  and  contents  himself  with  the  refuse,  so  we  dispose 
of  the  gospel  milk  and  honey  and  finest  of  the  wheat,  and  sub- 
sist ourselves  on  the  shriveled  remnant.  The  farmer  has  some 
excuse,  but  we  have  none;  we  can  take  the  best  and  welcome. 

The  condition  of  arriving  at  truth  is  not  severe  habits  of  in- 
vestigation, but  innocence  of  life  and  humbleness  of  heart. 
Truth  is  felt,  not  reasoned  out;  and  if  there  are  any  truths  which 
are  only  appreciable  by  the  acute  understanding,  we  may  be 
sure  at  once  that  these  do  not  constitute  the  soul's  life  nor  error 
in  these  the  soul's  death. 


QOD'S  WORKS.  865 

God's  ^[tJoi^i^s. 

The  spacious  firmament  on  high, 
With  all  the  blue  ethereal  sky, 
And  spangled  heavens  (a  shining  frame), 
Their  great  Original  proclaim. 
The  unwearied  sun  from  day  to  day 
Doth  his  Creator's  power  display. 
And  publishes  in  every  land 
The  work  of  an  almighty  hand. 

Soon  as  the  evening  shades  prevail 
The  moon  takes  up  the  wondrous  tale, 
And  nightly  to  the  listening  earth 
Repeats  the  story  of  her  birth. 
While  all  the  stars  that  round  her  burn. 
And  all  the  planets,  in  their  turn, 
Confirm  the  tidings  as  they  roll, 
And  spread  the  truth  from  pole  to  pole. 

What  though  in  solemn  silence  all 
Move  round  the  dark  terrestrial  ball; 
What  though  no  real  voice  nor  sound 
Amid  their  radiant  orbs  be  found; 
In  Reason's  ear  they  all  rejoice, 
And  utter  forth  a  glorious  voice. 
Forever  singing  as  they  shine, 
"The  hand  that  made  us  is  Divine." 

The  store-house  in  which  God's  goodness  is  laid  up  is  found 
a  ways  at  the  point  of  need.  Take  a  promise  or  two  for  illus- 
tration: "In  the  time  of  trouble  he  shall  hide  me  in  his  pavil- 
ion." It  is  very  clear  that  we  cannot  get  his  promise  when  we 
are  in  joy  and  safety,  but  only  when  we  are  in  peril.  "  When 
thou  passeth  through  the  waters  I  will  be  with  thee."  This 
goodness  is  laid  up  in  the  midst  of  the  wild  waves,  and  cannot 
be  found  in  any  sunny  field.  "  I  will  be  a  husband  to  the  wid- 
ow, and  a  father  to  the  fatherless."  This  promise  can  never 
come  to  the  tender  wife  when  she  leans  on  the  strong  arm  of 
her  husband,  nor  to  the  happy  children  when  they  cluster  about 
the  living,  loving  father's  knee. 


856  bel  igio  us  depar  tment. 

She  Ualub  op  a  Soul. 

The  value  of  an  immortal  soul!  Did  you  ever  undertake 
faithfully,  and  in  downright  earnestness  of  purpose,  to  estimate 
the  worth  of  one?  Where  shall  we  go  to  get  an  estimate  of  its 
value?  To  the  slaveholder?  His  measure  will  be  dollars  and 
cents.  To  the  general?  His  will  be  little  better;  a  mere  ma- 
chine whose  value  is  measui'ed  by  courage,  obedience  to  orders, 
and  brains  to  execute  them.  Shall  we  go  to  the  scholar?  His 
valuation  is  higher,  much  higher.  Man's  worth  is  determined 
by  his  ability  to  evolve  thought,  and  grasp  its  relations  to  all 
other  thought.  Shall  we  go  to  the  Christian?  His  valuation 
of  a  soul  is  great  beyond  human  thinking.  Its  worth  is  meas- 
ured by  obedience  to  the  dictates  of  conscience  and  the  will  of 
God,  and  then  by  development  of  Christ-like  character  in  view 
of  an  immortal  life  to  come.  To  emphasize  the  truth  of  this 
valuation,  he  points  you  to  the  Bible.  Do  we  put  such  a  val- 
uation on  our  own  souls?  Do  we  on  the  souls  of  others? 
What  are  we  doing  to  show  this? 

Christ  is  The  Truth.  He  has  said,  "  I  am  the  way,  the  truth, 
and  the  life."  He  is  not  merely  a  truth,  standing  aside  from  its 
fellows,  but  he  is  the  truth,  incarnate,  palpable,  visible,  harmo- 
nious, and  perfectly  adapted  to  all  the  wants  and  necessities  of 
the  human  heart  and  life;  and  it  should  be  our  aim  as  Chi"is- 
tlans  to  set  before  the  ininds  of  men  the  truth,  not  in  the  shape 
of  dry  discussions,  angry  controversies,  or  antiquated  formulas, 
but  enshrined  in  the  warm  and  glowing  humanity  of  Jesus 
Christ. 

In  Christ  are  hid  all  the  treasures  of  wisdom  and  knowledge; 
and  while  "the  truth  as  it  is"  in  Luther,  in  Calvin,  or  in  any 
other  erring  mortal,  may  be  shaded  by  the  medium  which 
transmits  it,  stained  by  the  admixture  of  evil,  and  rendered  in- 
operative by  human  inconsistencies,  "The  truth  as  it  is  in  Jesus  " 
is  perfect,  symmetrical,  and  pure  as  it  is  in  the  inind  of  the 
Eternal  One. 

"God  is  love!  the  breezes  bring  it; 
God  is  love!  the  bell-tunes  ring  it; 
God  is  love!  the  song-birds  sing  it; 
God  is  perfect  love." 


MY  LOT  IN  LIFE.  867 

CQY    IiOII   in    LlIPB. 

I  find  myself  where  I  am,  and  as  I  am.  My  duty  is  submis- 
sion. My  privilege  is  enjoyment.  Because  I  am  sick  or  dis- 
abled I  need  not  be  useless  or  unhappy.  I  accept  my  situation 
as  of  Divine  appointment,  and  I  will  try  to  be  contented  in  it. 
Lamenting  over  the  past  will  do  no  good — I  cannot  recall  or 
change  it.  Complaining  of  the  present  will  not  mend  it.  It 
may  make  myself  and  others  wretched.  Anxiety  about  the 
future  will  not  of  itself  make  it  any  brighter. 

My  Heavenly  Father  has  permitted  things  to  be  with  me  just 
as  they  are.  But  he  knows  what  is  best.  I  know  he  loves  me. 
I  will  therefore  leave  all  with  him.  No  rebellion  shall  be  cher- 
ished in  my  heart,  and  no  murmur  shall  escape  my  lips.  My 
Saviour  has  promised  that  his  grace  shall  be  sufficient  for  me. 
He  will  never  leave  me,  but  be  a  present  help  in  my  time  of 
need.  Trusting  in  him,  and  committing  all  to  my  Father's  lov- 
ing care,  I  will  do  what  I  can.  I  will  make  the  place  where 
my  lot  is  cast  as  bright  and  cheerful  as  possible,  and  work  and 
wait  with  patience  till  I  am  permitted  to  go  to  my  heavenly 
home. 

I  have  a  fancy  that  each  person  is  allowed  to  live  exactly  long 
enough  to  do  the  work  assigned.  Those  who  live  to  be  old  are 
given  all  they  can  do  in  their  threescore  and  ten  years.  Those 
who  die  in  the  prime  of  life  are  given  what  they  can  do  in  their 
forty  or  fifty  years.  Those  who  die  in  youth  are  given  less.  In 
any  case  there  is  no  time  to  be  wasted.  More  people  die  of 
idleness  than  are  killed  by  hard  work.  More  die  of  disappoint- 
ment than  are  killed  by  adversity.  .  More  deaths  are  caused  by 
fashionable  dissipation  than  are  caused  by  trouble.  Hearts  may 
break  and  the  owners  live  on  and  on.  Their  work  is  not  yet 
done.  When  it  is  accomplished  (it  may  be  before)  they  will  be 
sent  for.  Walking  always  in  the  path  of  duty,  doing  with  your 
might  what  your  hands  find  to  do,  shirking  no  unpleasant  task, 
and  evading  no  responsibility,  you  will  be  able  to  say  with 
Paul:  "  I  have  fought  a  good  fight,  I  have  finished  my  course,  I 
have  kept  the  faith;  henceforth  there  is  laid  up  for  me  a  crown 
of  righteousness,  which  the  Lord,  the  righteous  Judge,  shall 
give  me  at  that  day,  and  not  to  me  only,  but  unto  all  that  love 
his  appearing."  ' 


858  RELIGIOUS  DEPARTMENT. 

Modern  skepticism  is  the  child  of  ignorance.  No  man  can 
dig  down  to  the  foundations  of  the  Christian  religion  without 
finding  that  it  rests  upon  a  rock.  Its  rapid  and  wide-spread 
growth,  the  blessings  it  scatters  on  every  hand,  the  social 
changes  for  the  better  wrought  by  it,  the  transformation  and 
almost  the  transfiguration  of  the  nations  that  accept  it — these 
are  marvels  for  which  there  is  no  explanation  if  it  be  not  from 
God.  Lack  of  information,  or  failure  to  thoroughly  investigate 
matters,  lies  at  the  root  of  all  unbelief.  One  of  the  most  noted 
of  infidel  writers  admitted  that  he  had  never  read  a  page  of  the 
New  Testament.  A  fair  examination  of  the  gospel  in  its  teach- 
ings and  its  history  makes  believers.  The  word  of  God  never 
tries  to  evade  scrutiny.  On  the  contrary,  it  invites  it,  and  those 
who  know  it  the  best  are  its  strongest  disciples  and  defenders. 
— Rev.  E.  S.  Atwood. 

No  doubt  there  is  profound  satisfaction  in  the  thought  that 
the  good  we  do  will  live  after  us.  We  may  rejoice  also  at  the 
benefit  the  world  derives  to-day  from  the  good  deeds  of  those 
who  are  dead  and  gone.  But  to  set  up  this  sort  of  immortality 
as  a  substitute  for  the  personal  immortality  which  Christianity 
promises,  to  praise  it  as  a  nobler  object  of  aspiration,  to  try  to 
appease  the  longing  of  the  human  heart  with  the  prospect  it 
offers,  is  all  in  vain.  Conscious  life  after  death  is  the  immor- 
tality which  man  longed  for  in  ages  past,  longs  for  to-day,  and 
will  always  long  for.  Science  may  doubt  and  philosophy  deny, 
but  the  hope  of  such  an  immortality  will  be  as  eternal  as  the 
foundations  of  the  earth. 

The  world  is  growing  better  and  worse — better,  in  that  the 
number  of  good  men  is  greater  than  ever  before;  worse,  in  that 
bad  men  who  persist  in  evil  in  the  blaze  of  so  much  light  are 
growing  worse.  But  the  good,  rooted  in  God,  holds  its  gains; 
the  evil  is  weak  because  it  is  evil.  This  world  will  be  brought 
up  into  the  light  and  joy  of  the  Lord. 

It  is  not  the  encountering  of  difficulties  and  dangers  in  obe- 
dience to  the  promptings  of  the  inward  spiritual  life  which 
constitutes  tempting  of  God  and  Providence,  but  the  acting 
without  faith,  procieeding  on  our  own  errands  with  no  previous 
convictions  of  duty,  and  no  prayer  for  aid  and  direction. 


WAJCING  AND  WANING.  859 

rOAxiNG  AND  Waning. 

Hope  atid  the  sun  are  like  as  one — 

Both  largest  when  they  rise; 
They  shrink  alike  from  morn  till  noon, 

As  life  grows  old  and  wise. 

With  what  unbounded  hope  the  boy 

Begins  his  world-career!  • 

How  wondrous  large  and  bright  with  joy 
Do  rising  suns  appear! 

But  as  the  suns  grow  less  and  less, 

And  paler,  as  they  climb 
The  vacant  sky,  so  w^e  confess 

The  cold  deceits  of  time. 

Our  boyhood  hopes  will  shrink  and  fade 

As  boyhood  drifts  away. 
And  one  by  one  to  rest  are  laid 

The  failures  of  the  day. 

And  yet  the  sun  at  noon  that  turns 

Its  downward  course  will  grow  and  grow, 

Till  in  the  west  it  rolls  and  burns 
As  large  as  half  a  day  ago. 

So  as  we  near  that  other  sphere, 

The  early  hope  revives. 
That  all  we  thought  was  ours  here, 

May  bd  in  other  lives. 

Paul  made  tents  rather  than  hinder  the  gospel.  What  will 
you  do  to  send  the  gospel  to  the  lost?  Remember,  God  tests 
your  love  for  him  by  what  you  are  doing  for  the  Church.  You 
cannot  live  without  work.  You  cannot  be  happy  without  work. 
You  cannot  be  saved,  without  work.  Works  perfect  faith. 
Faith  without  works  is  dead. 

Surely  happiness  is  reflective,  like  the  light  of  Heaven;  and 
every  countenance  bright  with  smiles  and  glowing  with  inno- 
cent enjoyment  is  a  mirror  transmitting  to  others  the  rays  of  a 
supreme  and  ever-smiling  benevolence. 


860  religious  department. 

Bbautipul  Libgend. 

Have  you  never  read  Whittier's  beautiful  version  of  the  me- 
diaeval legend  of  the  ancient  saint  who  was  praying  in  his  cell, 
when  suddenly,  as  in  answer  to  his  prayer,  a  vision  of  his  cru- 
cified Lord  appeared  to  him?  While  he  gazed  enraptured  upon 
the  vision,  the  bell  of  the  monastery  rang  out  the  hour  of  noon. 
It  >yas  a  call  to  him  to  go  and  feed  the  hungry,  ragged,  thrift- 
less poor  before  the  monastery  gate.  Hesitating,  with  heavy 
heart  and  reluctant  step,  he  arose,  closed  the  door  upon  the 
vision,  and  went  out  to  perform  his  duty.  When  he  returned, 
the  vision  awaited  him  with  the  declaration:  "  Hadst  thou  re- 
mained, I  must  have  gone;  because  thou  didst  go,  I  have  re- 
mained." You  wait  in  your  cell  and  lose  the  vision.  Go  to 
God's  poor  and  find  Christ  where  the  disciples  were  wont  to 
find  him — where  love  called  to  self-denying  service.  "  He  that 
findeth  his  life  shall  lose  it,  and  he  that  loseth  his  life  for  my 
sake  shall  find  it." 

Two  friends  were  walking  together  and  occasionally  jostled 
each  other.  "Take  my  arm,  keep  step,  and  the  jars  will  not 
annoy,"  said  one  of  them.  They  did  so,  and  found  not  only 
harmony,  but  a  united  support.  Am  I  walking  with  God?  Do 
I  link  my  arm  with  my  brother?  Are  Churches,  among  them- 
selves and  as  one  army  of  the  Lord,  keeping  step  with  the  music, 
interlocked  into  living,  loving  sympathies  under  the  one  Cap- 
tain of  salvation?  The  same  rule  holds  in  parental  and  school 
discipline,  and  in  all  concerted  action. 

It  is  noted  in  one  of  the  great  diamond-fields  of  South  Africa 
that  black  men  get  more  diamonds  than  white  men,  and  the 
reason  was  found  to  be  that  they  got  on  their  knees  to  work. 
Let  us  imitate  them  in  this  respect,  and  search  for  the  precious 
truths  of  God,  which  are  hidden  to  the  careless,  but  are  discov- 
erable to  those  who  work  upon  their  knges. 

He  who  is  godly  is  both  a  diamond  and  a  loadstone — a  dia- 
mond for  the  sparkling  of  his  grace,  and  a  loadstone  for  his 
attractive  virtue  in  drawing  others  to  the  love  of  God's  pre- 
cepts. A  good  man  benefits  others  more  than  he  does  himself. 
—  Watson. 


something  he  did  know.  861 

Something  F)e  Did  I^now. 

In  former  days  candidates  for  admission  to  certain  Churches 
were  examined  as  to  their  knowledge  of  sundry  doctrines. 
Qiiestions  which  no  theologian  could  answer  were  gravely  put 
to  uneducated  men,  and  even  to  boys.  On  the  length  of  his 
reply  and  the  frequency  with  which  he  used  the  stereotyped 
phrases  depended,  in  some  degree,  the  approval  which  the 
Church-committee  showed  the  candidate. 

Among  the  young  people  in  a  New  England  village  who 
professed  themselves  Christians,  was  a  simple-minded  youth  of 
the  smallest  possible  amount  of  wit  consistent  with  moral  re- 
sponsibility. But  being  sincerely  anxious  to  join  the  Church, 
he  presented  himself  to  the  Church-committee.  The  first  ques- 
tion put  to  him  was: 

"Do  you  understand  the  doctrine  of  the  Trinity?" 

"No;  I  can't  say  I  do." 

''Can  you  give  the  committee  a  definition  of  regeneration?" 

"I  don't  think  I  can." 

"Well,  what  do  you  understand  by  fore-ordination?  Take 
plenty  of  time  to  answer,"  said  a  kind-hearted  deacon,  thinking 
the  candidate  was  confused. 

"  I  don't  know  much  about  it." 

"Can't  you  give  us  some  opinion  respecting  God's  decrees?" 

"  I'm  afraid  not." 

"Well,  then,"  said  the  minister,  a  little  impatiently,  "what  do 
you  know?"     Promptly  came  the  answer: 

"  I  know  that  I'm  a  sinner,  and  I  know  that  Christ  died  to 
save  me,  and  I  want  to  join  the  Church  to  get  more  help  from 
Christ  and  his  people." 

Every  member  of  that  committee  felt  rebuked,  and  one  of 
them  said  afterward,  "I  learned  from  that  moment  to  respect 
the  spiritual  knowledge  of  the  huii^blest  man  or  woman,  and 
not  to  think  so  much  of  that  knowledge  which  comes  from  the 
head  alone." 

When  Christ  gives  peace,  he  does  not  hinder,  but  guides 
thought;  does  not  destroy,  but  purifies  love;  does  not  stop  in- 
dustry, but  sweetens  toil;  does  not  check,  but  makes  business 
just  and  good. 


862  BELIGIO  US  DEPAR  TMENT. 

^   FULL  SUF^I^ENDBI^. 

All  half-way  measures  and  half-hearted  purposes  are  con- 
demned as  utterly  futile.  If  there  is  any  one  thing  that  the  in- 
quirer is  especially  unwilling  to  be,  or  do,  or  give  up,  that  one 
thing  he  must  be,  or  do,  or  surrender,  in  order  to  secure  pardon 
or  acceptance.  Whenever  the  awakened  sinner  makes  a  fight 
with  the  Holy  Spirit — even  if  it  be  over  some  trivial  point 
where  no  fight  need  have  been  made — there  he  must  surrender. 
This  is  an  eminently  Scriptural  doctrine.  We  are  quite  per- 
suaded that  if  an  inquirer  got  the  notion  in  his  head  that  God 
required  him  to  give  up  any  thing,  no  matter  what,  he  would 
have  come  into  a  condition  of  perfect  willingness  to  give  it  up, 
harmless  though  it  be,  before  he  could  find  peace  with  God. 
If  this  doctrine  be  soynd  and  Scriptural  for  the  inquirer,  is  it 
not  equally  sound  and  Scriptural  for  the  professor.?  We  un- 
derstand Jesus  to  say,  "Whosoever  he  be  of  you  that  forsaketh 
not  all  that  he  hath,  he  cannot  become  my  disciple;"  but  he  sa'ys 
be,  not  become.  He  teaches  us  that  the  same  spirit  of  self-sur- 
render which  is  essential  at  the  beginning  of  the  Christian  life, 
is  imperative  throughout  its  course.  Does  he  not  emphatically 
condemn  all  compromises,  all  half-way  measures,  for  the  pro- 
fessor as  for  the  inquirer?  Nay,  with  the  experience  of  the 
grace  of  Christ,  with  that  growth  of  Christian  principle  and 
Christian  feeling  which  we  should  be  able,  in  the  case  of  the 
Church  members,  to  take  for  granted,  is  not  the  duty  to  yield 
himself  implicitly  to  the  guidance  of  the  Spirit  more  imperative 
on  him  than  on  the  newly-awakened  soul?  Does  not  the  Mas- 
tei''s  warning,  "  No  man  can  serve  two  masters,"  come  to  the 
Church  member  with  peculiar  force? 

There  may  be  conversions  which  are  sudden  and  startling, 
but  the  transforming  influences  of  the  Holy  Spirit  which  ac- 
company them  are  noiseless  and  gentle.  He  comes  to  the  soul 
softly  and  tenderly.  It  can  scarcely  tell  when;  it  cannot  tell 
how;  it  only  knows  that  new  desires  are  awakened  and  new 
ambitions  kindled*.  A  nameless  seriousness  overspreads  it;  dis- 
content with  its  past  oppresses  it,  and  it  looks  with  anxious  eyes 
above  and  beyond  the  zenith  to  the  throne.  Past  pleasures  and 
pursuits  are  painful  to  it,  and  it  seeks  delight  in  the  Unseen 
and  Eternal. — Dr.  G.  C.  Lorimer. 


THE    OBJECT  OF  FAITH.  863 

<9HB  OBJBGip  OP  Faith. 

Believe  the  Bible,  and  thou  shalt  be  saved?  No.  There  is 
no  such  word  written.  It  is,  "  Believe  on  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ, 
and  thou  shalt  be  saved."  Do  not  trouble  yourself  in  the  first 
instance  about  questions  connected  with  the  book  of  Genesis, 
or  difticulties  suggested  by  the  book  of  Revelation.  Let  the 
wars  of  the  Jews  alone  in  the  meantime,  and  dismiss  Jonah 
from  your  mind.  Look  to  Jesus!  get  acquainted  with  him, 
listen  to  his  word,  believe  in  him,  trust  in  him,  obey  him. 

This  is  all  that  is  asked  of  you  in  the  first  instance.  After 
you  have  believed  on  Christ  and  taken  him  as  your  Saviour, 
your  Master,  your  Model,  you  will  not  be  slow  to  find  out  that 
"all  Scripture  is  given  by  inspiration  of  God,  and  is  profitable 
for  reproof,  for  correction,  and  for  instruction  in  righteousness." 
You  may  never  have  all  your  difficulties  solved,  or  all  your  ob- 
jections met,  but  you  will  be  sure  of  your  foundation;  you 
will  feel  that  your  feet  are  planted  on  the  "Rock  of  Ages." 

None  should  be  so  happy  as  those  who  are  Christians. 
Christ  comes  to  increase  our  joy  and  to  take  away  our  sorrow. 
He  bears  our  burdens.  He  would  win  us  to  all  that  is  good, 
and  beautiful,  and  true,  and  away  from  sin.  The  Christian  is 
not  true  to  his  Master  if,  however,  he  se^s  more  beauty  in  the 
things  of  earth  and  time  than  in  those  which  Christ  would  have 
us  seek.  If  we  make  an  idol  of  any  thing  earthly,  we  may  well 
be  ui'ged  to  see  less  beauty  in  it,  and  to  turn  and  seek  first  the 
kingdom  of  God.  But  If  we  make  the  kingdom  of  God  first, 
then  we  shall  rejoice  in  all  God's  works  with  great  joy,  for  it  will 
be  a  pure,  unselfish.  Christian  joy. 

The  only  way  to  really  know  that  God  made  us  is  to  let  God 
re-make,  regenerate  us.  The  only  way  to  be  sure  that  God 
gave  us  our  physical  life  is  to  let  him  give  us  the  spiritual  life 
which  shall  declare  for  the  physical  life  an  adequate  and  worthy 
purpose.  The  only  way  to  realize  that  we  are  God's  children 
is  to  let  Christ  lead  us  to  our  Father. 

Truth  and  love  are  two  of  the  most  powerful  things  in  the 
world,  and  when  they  both  go  together  they  cannot  easily  be 
withstood. 


864  beligi.0  us  depar  tment. 

Songs  op  I^i^aises. 

In  a  dried  old  mow,  that  was  once,  alas! 
A  living  glory  of  waving  grass, 
A  cricket  made  merry  one  winter's  day. 
And  answered  me  this,  in  a  wondrous  way, 
When  I  cried,  half  sharply,  "Thou  poor  old  thing! 
How  canst  thou  sit  in  the  dark  and  sing, 
While  all  for  thy  pleasure  of  youth  thou  starvest?" 
"I'm  the  voice  of  praise  that  came  in  with  the  harvest!" 

I  went  away  to  the  silent  wood. 

And  down  in  the  deep  brown  solitude. 

Where  nothing  blossomed,  and  nothing  stirred, 

Up  rose  the  note  of  a  little  bird. 
"Why  carolest  thou  in  the  death  of  the  year. 

Where  nobody  traveleth  by  to  hear?" 
"  I  sing  to  God,  though  there  be  no  comer. 

Praise  for  the  past,  and  the  promise  of  summer!" 

I  stopped  by  the  brook  that,  overglassed 
With  icy  sheathing,  seemed  prisoned  fast; 
Yet  there  whispered  up  a  continual  song 
From  the  life  underneath  that  urged  along. 

"O  blind  little  bVook,  thou  canst  not  know 
Whither  thou  runnest,  why  chantest  so?" 

"I  don't  know^  what  I  may  find  or  be, 
But  I'm  praising  for  this — I  am  going  to  see!" 

She   Bible. 

The  following  lines  of  Sir  Walter  Scott  are  said  to  have  been 
copied  in  his  Bible: 

"Within  this  awful  volume  lies 
The  mystery  of  mysteries. 
O  happiest  they  of  human  race 
To  whom  our  God  has  given  grace 
To  hear,  to  read,  to  fear,  to  pray, 
To  lift  the  latch  and  force  the  way! 
But  better  had  they  ne'er  been  born, 
Who  read  to  doubt  or  read  to  scorn," 


©IRWIWia      W(S[|^SIH]I!1P„ 


f  OR  "THE  CORNUCOPIA" 


:o^  mi 


cl\ism 


•■^ 


THY 

MOTHEJ: 

T>*^i-/r». 

■•■ 

>^f  innoccut  chil- 

•f  worship?    It 

-r  which 

My>on 

■  ir 

An  old  scho.  liv  to  a  clergyman  who  came 

to  examint  hi>    .  le  children  know  the  cate 


rh"  n!j(»stior»,"  said'  tin 


^   iii  CUfibt. 


i.-    .-     '"!, 


f  OR  "THE  CORNUCOPIA" 


LESS  AND  LESS.  867 

©HE   liOI^D'S  €>ONYBI^iPS  AND  CQAN'S. 

On  one  occasion  an  Irish  evangelist  was  brought  up  for  cre- 
ating a  disturbance. 

"How  many  did  you  convert?"  said  the  magistrate. 

"Just  two,"  was  the  reply. 

"Were  these  all?" 

"Yes,  sir,  all  I  converted,  and  they  were  soon  as  wicked  as 
ever;  but  the  Lord,  he  converted  many  more." 

Possibly  such  easy  conversions,  unattended  with  much  or  any 
conviction  of  sin,  and  resting  on  the  acceptance  of  a  mere 
formula,  have  not  a  little  to  do  with  the  shallow,  easy-going 
Christianity  which  is  more  or  less  common  in  these  days. 

IXBSS  AND   LCBSS. 

Some  one  has  remarked  that  in  A.D.  59,  soon  after  Paul  was 
converted,  he  called  himself  "  unworthy  to  be  called  an  apostle." 
As  the.years  rolled  along,  and  he  grew  in  grace,  in  A.D.  64  he 
cried  out,  "I  am  less  than  the  least  of  all  saints;"  and  just  be- 
fore his  martyrdom,  when  he  had  reached  the  stature  of  a  perfect 
man  in  Christ,  in  A.D.  65,  his  exclamation  was,  "  I  am  the  chief 
of  sinners." 

An  every-day  religion,  one  that  loves  the  duties  of  our  com- 
mon walk,  one  that  makes  an  honest  man,  one  that  accom- 
plishes an  intellectual  and  moral  growth  in  the  subject,  one  that 
works  in  all  weathers  and  improves  all  opportunities,  will  best 
and  most  healthily  promote  the  growth  of  a  Church  and  the 
power  of  the  gospel. 

The  turning-point  in  every  man's  religious  experience  is  not 
when  he  says,  "  I  believe,"  but  when  he  says,  "  I  will."  A  man 
is  not  a  Christian  in  proportion  to  the  amount  of  truth  he  puts 
in  his  creed,  but  in  proportion  to  the  amount  of  truth  he  puts 
into  his  life. 

It  is  very  common  to  forget  the  beauty  of  holiness.  The 
strength,  energy,  purity,  peace,  and  other  qualities  are  kept  in 
mind,  mainly,  however,  because  of  their  utility  in  the  spiritual 
economy  of  life;  but  the  attractiveness  which  ought  to  be  its 
chief  charm  is  left  out  of  sight. 


868        •  MELIGIOUIS  BEPAJxTMENT. 

©HE  0)AjBsiPY  OP  Bible  Si^egepifs. 

There  is  no  weakness  in  them.  No  one  of  them  is  emascu- 
lated by  the  modern  prefix,  "try.'"  The  Bible  says:  "Cleanse 
vour  hands,  ye  sinners,  and  purify  your  hearts,  ye  double- 
minded."  "Cease  to  do  evil,  learn  to  do  well."  "Depart  from 
evil  and  do  good."  And  thus  through  the  whole  book,  from 
Genesis  to  Revelation,  a  moral  precept  is  never  prefixed  with 
the  enfeebling  "  try,"  now  so  universally  common. 

Just  think  of  the  Bible  saying:  Try  to  depart  from  evil!  Try 
to  cleanse  your  hands,  ye  sinners!  Try  to  speak  the  truth  to  one 
another!  And  instead  of  "Do  not  kill,"  "  Do  not  steal,"  "Do 
not  commit  adultery,"  suppose  we  had:  Do  try  not  to  kill!  Do 
try  not  to  steal!  Do  try  not  to  commit  adultery!  It  is  time  to 
stop  experimenting  in  morals.  None  of  it  is  from  above;  it 
is  all  from  beneath;  a  device  from  the  devil  to  break  down  the 
force  and  majesty  of  the  precepts  of  the  Bible. 

That  glorious  book  never  uses  the  word  "try"  in  any  such 
connection.  It  knows  nothing  of  experimental  morals.  "Try" 
is  never  properly  used  except  where  a  failure  may  be  justifiable. 
A  failure  in  morals  never  was  and  never  can  be  justified. 

^  Beautiful  Ingidenjp. 

A  naval  ofl!icer  being  at  sea  in  a  dreadful  storm,  his  wife  sit- 
ting in  the  cabin  near  him,  filled  with  alarm  for  the  safety  of 
the  vessel,  was  so  surprised  at  his  serenity  and  composure  that 
she  cried  out: 

"My  dear,  are  you  afraid?  How  is  it  possible  you  can  be 
so  calm  in  such  a  dreadful  storm?" 

He  rose  from  his  chair,  dashed  it  to  the  deck,  drew  his  sword, 
and  pointing  it  at  the  breast  of  his  wife,  exclaimed: 

"Are  you  not  afraid?" 

She  immediately  answered,  "  No." 

"Why?"  said  the  ofticer. 

"Because,"  replied  his  wife,  "  I  know  that  the  sword  is  in  the 
hands  of  my  husband,  and  he  loves  me  too  well  to  hurt  me." 

"Then,"  said  he,  "I  know  in  whom  I  believe,  and  that  he 
who  holds  the  wind  in  his  hand  is  my  Father." 

When  flatterers  meet  the  devil  goes  to  dinner. 


SPURGEON  AND  PRA  YER.  869 

Spui^geon  and  ©f^aybi^. 


J.   M.   WKAVER. 

It  is  refreshing,  in  these  days  of  unbelief  and  skeptical  ques- 
tioning in  regard  to  prayer,  to  read  such  a  testimony  as  follows 
from  such  a  map  as  Spurgeon.  He  speaks  boldly  and  without 
a  doubt  as  to  the  boundless  efficacy  of  prayer.  To  him  there  is 
a  living,  acting  God  who  now  hears  and  answers  the  cry  of  his 
people. 

Those  who  sneer  at  MuUer  as  a  "humbug"  and  "fanatic," 
will  notice  Spurgeon's  opinion  of  this  consecrated  man  of  God, 
whose  faith,  simple  and  childlike,  God  has  so  wonderfully  hon- 
ored. O  for  more  of  that  confidence  that  takes  God  at  his 
word!  The  following  is  a  report  from  a  representative  of  the 
Pall  Mall  Gazette,  of  London.  It  will  doubtless  strengthen  the 
faith  and  quicken  the  spiritual  life  of  every  believer  who  reads 
it.     May  the  Spirit  so  use  it! 

"Then  you  have  not  been  modified  in  any  way  as  to  the  effi- 
cacy of  prayer?"  asked  the  visitor. 

Mr.  Spurgeon  laughed.  "Only  in  my  faith  growing  far 
stronger  and  firmer  than  ever.  It  is  not  a  matter  of  faith  with 
me,  but  of  knowledge  and  every-day  experience.  I  am  con- 
stantly witnessing  the  most  unmistakable  instances  of  answers 
to  prayer.  My  whole  life  is  made  up  of  them.  To  me  they 
are  so  familiar  as  to  cease  to  excite  my  surprise;  but  to  many 
they  would  seem  marvelous,  no  doubt.  Why,  I  could  no  more 
doubt  the  efficacy  of  prayer  than  I  could  disbelieve  in  the  law 
of  gravitation.  The  one  is  as  much  a  fact  as  the  other,  con- 
stantly verified  every  day  of  my  life.  Elijah,  by  the  brook 
Cherith,  as  he  I'eceived  his  daily  rations  from  the  ravens,  could 
hardly  be  a  more  likely  subject  for  skepticism  than  I.  Look  at 
my  orphanage.  To  keep  it  going  entails  an  annual  expenditure 
of  about  JEio,cxx).  Only  i^  1,400  is  provided  for  by  endowment. 
The  remaining  JC8,6oo  comes  to  me  regularly  in  answer  to 
prayer.  I  do  not  know  where  I  shall  get  it  from  day  to  day. 
I  ask  God  for  it,  and  he  sends  it.  Mr.  Muller,  of  Bristol,  does 
the  same  on  a  far  larger  scale,  and  his  experience  is  the  same 
as  mine.  The  constant  inflow  of  funds — of  all  the  funds  neces- 
sary to  carry  on  these  works — is  not  stimulated  by  advertise- 


870  BELIGIO  US  DEPA  M  TMENT. 

ments,  by  begging-letters,  by  canvassing,  or  any  of  the  usual 
modes  of  raising  the  wind.  We  ask  God  for  the  cash,  and  he 
sends  it.  That  is  a  good,  solid,  material  fact,  not  to  be  ex- 
plained away.  But  quite  as  remarkable  illustrations  of  the 
efficacy  of  believing  faith  are  constantly  occurring  in  spiritual 
things.  Some  two  years  ago  a  poor  woman,  accompanied  by 
two  of  her  neighbors,  came  to  my  vestry  in  deep  distress.  Her 
husband  had  fled  the  country.  In  her  sorrow  she  went  to  the 
house  of  God,  and  something  I  said  in  the  sermon  made  her 
think  I  was  personally  familiar  with  her  case.  Of  course  I  had 
known  nothing  about  her.  It  was  a  general  illustration  that 
fitted  a  particular  case.  She  told  me  her  story,  and  a  very  sad 
one  it  was.  I  said,  'There  is  nothing  we  can  do  but  to  kneel 
down  and  cry  to  the  Lord  for  the  immediate  conversion  of 
your  husband.'  We  knelt  down,  and  I  jirayed  that  the  Lord 
would  touch  the  heart  of  the  deserter,  convert  his  soul,  and 
bring  him  back  to  his  home.  When  we  rose  from  our  knees  I 
said  to  the  poor  woman:  'Do  not  fret  about  the  matter.  I  feel 
sure  your  husband  will  come  home,  arjd  that  he  will  yet  become 
connected  with  our  Church.'  She  went  away,  and  I  forgot  all 
about  it.  Some  months  after  she  re-appeared  with  her  neigh- 
bors and  a  man,  whom  she  introduced  to  me  as  her  husband. 
He  had  indeed  come  back,  and  he  had  returned  a  converted 
man.  On  making  inquiry  and  comparing  notes,  we  found  that 
the  very  day  on  which  we  had  prayed  for  his  conversion  he, 
being  at  that  time  on  board  a  ship  far  away  on  the  sea,  stumbled 
most  unexpectedly  upon  a  stray  copy  of  one  of  my  sermons. 
He  read  it.  The  truth  w^nt  to  his  heart.  He  repented  and- 
sought  the  Lord,  and  as  soon  as  possible  he  returned  to  his  wife 
and  to  his  daily  calling.  He  was  admitted- a  member,  and  last 
Monday  his  wife,  who  up  to  that  time  had  not  been  a  member, 
was  also  received  among  us.  That  woman  does  not  doubt  the 
power  of  prayer.  All  the  infidels  in  the  world  could  not  shake 
her  conviction  that  there  is  a  God  that  answereth  prayer.  I 
should  be  the  most  irrational  creature  in  the  world  if,  with  a 
life  every  day  of  which  is  full  of  experiences  so  remarkable,  I 
entertained  the  slightest  doubt  on  the  subject." 

Happiness  is  neither  within  us  nor  without  us;  it  is  the  union 
of  ourselves  with  God. 


PRA  YER.  871 

gl^AYEI^. 


BY  DR.  J.  A.  BROADUS. 


"Ask,  and  it  shall  be  given  you."    Matt.  vii.  7. 

There  is  one  thing  very  certain,  my  friends,  and  that  is  that 
the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  the  great  founder  of  Christianity,  be- 
lieved in  prayer.  Some  people  say  they  do  not,  and  others  do 
not  know  whether  they  do  or  not,  but  he  believed  in  it.  There 
are  two  great  proofs  that  he  did:  First,  he  took  great  pains  to 
teach  his  disciples  to  pray.  By  parable,  precept,  and  illustration 
he  taught  them  to  pray.  Secondly,  he  prayed  a  great  deal  him- 
self. Now,  if  there  ever  was  any  one  in  this  world  who  could 
afford  to  live  without  prayer  that  one  was  the  Lord  Jesus.  He 
had  no  sin;  he  was  God.  Why  should  he  pray?  But  he  did 
pray  a  great  deal,  both  in  public  and  in  private.  Before  deliv- 
•ering  this  great  discouise  on  the  Mount,  from  which  'I  have 
taken  my  text,  he  spent  the  whole  night  in  prayer.  On  one 
occasion,  when  the  people  sought  to  take  him  and  make  him 
king,  he  withdrew  into  the  mountain  alone  to  pray.  At  an- 
other time,  having  sent  his  disciples  across  the  sea,  he  went  up 
into  the  mountains  apart  to  pray,  and  was  there  alone  when 
their  ship  was  tossed  by  the  waves.  And  finally,  when  the 
great  trouble  came  upon  him,  he  went  out  into  the  gloom  of 
the  garden  and  there  kneeled  down  and  prayed  three  times 
most  earnestly.  Do  you  not  see  that  it  is  perfectly  clear  that  he 
believed  in  prayer?  Now,  if  he  believed  in  it,  I  believe  in  it, 
for  he  is  the  source  of  all  I  know. 

There  are  questions  about  prayer  which  any  child  can  ask, 
but  which  no  philosopher  can  answer.  Some  one  tells  me  that 
he  does  not  believe  in  prayer  because  he  cannot  understand  it. 
In  the  name  of  sense,  does  he  believe  in  space?  He  cannot 
budge  an  inch  without  moving  in  space,  but  he  does  not  under- 
stand space.     Does  he  understand  time?    Can  he  explain  time? 

Here  in  the  text  Jesus  has  taught  us  to  pray.  This  duty  he 
enjoins  three  times.  Why  did  he  waste  words  three  times?  He 
did  not  waste  words  like  some  people  who  utter  the  same  words 
three  times  because  they  cannot  find  three  thoughts  to  express. 
He  repeated  them  three  times  for  the  very  reason  that  makes  it 
necessary  for  us  to  think  of  them  here  to-day.     This  is  a  very 


872  MELIGIOUS  DEPARTMENT. 

old  text,  and  I  presume  that  when  I  announced  it,  some  of  you 
were  led  to  say  that  nothing  new  can  be  said  about  prayer. 
Why,  it  is  the  old  subject  about  which  we  have  been  hearing  all 
our  lives.  It  is  so  common.  But,  my  frfends,  it  is  common 
only  to  our  surface  minds,  and  to  our  too  common  practical 
neglect. 

How  difficult  it  is  for  us  to  realize  what  we  are  when  we 
pray!  I  was  very  deeply  impressed  once  by  a  prayer  of  a  pe- 
culiar kind.  It  was  in  a  deaf  and  dumb  institution.  Every  eye 
was  fixed  upon  the  leader  whose  slow  and  reverent  movement 
led  them  in  their  prayer.  Every  soul  was  eager,  and  seemed  to 
be  straining  every  power  to  come  into  communication  with  God. 
It  was  so  still — no  sound,  no  voice — I  could  almost  hear  my 
heart  beat.  I  said,  This  is  prayer.  Now,  the  Lord  knew  oui 
proneness  to  the  lack  of  earnestness,  and  he  seeks  to  impress 
our  minds  by  repeating  three  times  almost  the  same  \vords. 

And  then  he  knew  that  we  need  to  be  stimulated  to  perse-* 
vere  in  prayer.     We  are  so  easily  tempted  to  give  over  to  de- 
spair.   And  so  he  repeats  them  three  times  to  stir  up  our  hearts 
to  persevere  in  prayer. 

And  in  addition,  he  appeals  to  our  sympathy  by  that  tender- 
est  relation,  the  parental  relation,  that  he  might  encourage  us  to 
continue  in  prayer.  "  If  ye  then,  being  evil,  know  how  to  give 
good  gifts  unto  your  children,  how  much  more  should  your 
Father  which  is  in  heaven  give  good  things  to  them  that  ask 
him?"  There  is  one  word  here  which  I  beg  you  to  obsei've. 
Parents  sometimes  make  mistakes.  We  are  all  so  unworthy, 
and  sometimes  petulant  and  selfish.  But  practically  parents 
know  how  to  give  good  gifts  to  their  children.  But  O  "how 
much  more  "  doth  our  Heavenly  Father  know  how  to  give  good 
things  to  them  that  ask  him!  How  much  more!  As  much  as 
he  is  greater  and  better  than  man.  As  much  as  the  heavens  are 
higher  than  the  earth,  and  his  ways  and  thoughts  as  ours.  He 
is  never  out  of  tune.  He  never  can  be  overpersuaded.  He  is 
too  wise  to  err,  too  good  to  be  unkind.  He  will  never  give  us 
what  yv'ill  not  be  best  for  us. 

I  remember  many  years  ago,  one  Sunday  afternoon,  far  from 
here,  I  sat  in  an  upper  room  by  the  side  of  a  coffin  in  which  lay 
the  body  of  a  dear  child — no  matter  whose  child.  A  small  boy 
came  to  me  with  a  deep  feeling,  and  showing  how  far  some- 


PRA  YER.  873 

times  children  penetrate  into  the  deep  mysteries  of  life  and  spir- 
itual things,  said  to  me,  "Uncle,  I  want  to  ask  you  something." 
I  said,  "Well."  Said  he,  "Does  God  always  give  us  what  we 
ask  him  for?"  And  I  hardly  knew  what  to  answer;  so  I  said, 
"Why  do  you  ask?"  Said  he,  "Because  I  asked  him  to  spare 
my  dear  little  cousin,  and  he  didn't  do  it,  and  I  do  not  know 
what  to  think  about  it."  The  child  touched  bottom.  We  have 
all  had  the  same  difliculty.  I  said  to  him,  "  Suppose  that  your 
father  should  send  you  off  to  boarding-school,  and  should  say 
to  you,  as  .he  bade  you  good-by,  'Now,  if  you  want  any  thing, 
just  ask  me  for  it,  and  I  will  send  it  to  you.'  You  do  not  sup- 
pose that  he  meant  to  say  that  he  would  send  you  any  thing 
that  would  not  be  best  for  you?  Now,  God  says,  'Ask,  and  it 
shall  be  given  you;'  but  he  does  not  say  that  he  will  give  us 
any  thing  that  is  riot  best  for  us."  And  I  said,  "Does  that  help 
you  any?"  And  he  said,  "I  think  I  see."  Now  that  is  just  as 
far  as  I  have  ever  been  able  to  go — "  I  think  I  see." 

But  do  you  not  see,  dear  friends,  that  right  here  is  the  very 
privilege  of  praying  to  God?  Why,  if  God  should  give  us 
eVery  thing  we  ask  him  for,  the  very  best  and  wisest  of  us 
would  almost  be  afraid  to  pray.  How  many  times  good  people 
have  prayed  for  certain  things  and  they  did  not  get  them! 
Many  ^ears  afterward  they  saw  that  it  would  have  been  a 
thousand  pities  if  God  had  given  them  what  they  asked  for.   . 

When  we  shall  climb  the  shining  steeps  of  heaven,  and 
from  the  light  of  the  eternal  world  look  back  on  this  enigma  of 
human  life,  we  shall  have  nothing  for  which  to  praise  God  more 
than  for  not  having  given  us  eveiy  thing  for  which  we  asked 
him  here  on  earth.  He  knows  how  to  give.  He  sees  what  is 
best.  So  what  at  first  may  seem  one  of  the  greatest  discour- 
agements may  be  a  blessing  in  disguise. 

Let  us  now  try  to  see  what  connection  all  this  has  with  the 
great  discourse  which  Christ  has  been  delivering.  If  you  will 
turn  back  to  the  first  verse  of  the  seventh  chapter  you  will  there 
observe  that  he  says,  ''Judge  not."  O  how  hard  that  is  to  do — 
never  to  pass  judgment  in  thought  or  word  on  any  one!  Men 
and  women,  boys  and  girls,  "Judge  not."  Who  can  obey  that 
command?  How  is  it  to  be  done?  "Ask,  and  it  shall  be  given 
you."  And  then  a  little  later  he  says,  "  Give  not  that  which  is 
holy  unto  the  dogs."     We  are  not  to  judge  men,  yet  we  are  to 


874  RELIGIOUS  DEPARTMENT. 

know  them.  Who  can  do  both?  "Ask,  and  it  shall  be  given 
you."  And  then  a  little  farther  back  he  has  told  us  to  take  no 
thought  of  the  morrow;  that  is,  be  not  anxious.  To-mon-ow 
will  bring  its  own  cares.  You  say,  "  I  know  that,  but  how  hard 
it  is  to  do  it! "  Mothers,  shall  you  not  be  anxious  for  your  sons.? 
Wives,  shall  you  not  be  anxious  for  your  husbands?  Shall  not 
the  poor  be  anxious  for  the  morrow?  Our  only  fi'eedom  from 
anxiety  is,  "Ask,  and  it  shall  be  given  you."  Then,  again,  you 
say  that  the  morality  Jesus  taught  is  too  high  for  you.  He  re- 
quires control  not  only  of  sinful  acts,  but  sinful  feelings.  The 
murderous  lust  as  well  as  the  murderous  deed  is  sin;  the  lustful 
look  as  well  as  the  lustful  action.  You  shall  be  able  to  come  up 
to  this  high  morality  only  by  praying,  for  Jesus  did  not  cease 
his  discourse  till  he  had  said,  "Ask,  and  it  shall  be  given  you." 

Why  do  we  not  all  pray  always?  Some  are  ashamed  to  pray, 
but  they  are  not  ashamed  of  sin.  The  poet  Coleridge  wrote 
something  to  the  effect  that  prayer  is  foolish.  But  on  his  death- 
bed he  called  his  nephew  to  him  and  told  him  that  he  was  sorry 
he  had  written  those  words,  and  that  now  he  believed  that 
prayer  is  the  noblest  act  of  man,  and  sinking  back  on  his  pillow 
he  said,  "Lord,  teach  us  how  to  pray!"  Dear  friends,  shall  we 
not  all  pray?  O  weak  man,  tossed  on  the  billows  of  life's  un- 
certain sea,  is  there  no  I'eason  why  you  should  pray?  ^re  you 
perfectly  safe?     Have  you  no  sins,  no  temptations? 

There  ;ire  some  of  you  here  to-day  who  have  ceased  to  pray. 
Let  me  call  your  attention  again  to  those  strong  words  we  sung 
in  the  second  hymn  this  morjiing.     Did  you  notice  them? 
"  O  may  my  hand  forget  her  skill, 
My  tongue  be  silent,  cold,  and  still. 
This  throbbing  heart  forget  to  beat,' 
If  I  forget  the  mercy-seat!" 

But  you  have  forgotten.     Will  you  forget  no  more? 

I  should  rejoice  to  hear  any  one  of  my  congregation  saying: 
"  I  forgot  who  preached,  I  felt  so  mych  the  influence  of  the 
truths  he  preached.  Blessed  be  God,  I  was  enabled  to  repent, 
and  the  silent  tears  trickled  down  my  cheeks.  My  heart  was 
affected,  it  began  to  relent,  and  now  it  relents  again  when  I 
consider  by  whose  mercy  it  was  that  I  was  blessed  with  these 
feelings," — Rowland  Hill. 


FAITH.  875 

Fleeing  Fi^om  Sin. 


BY  W.  AKTUUR. 


Wc  often  say,  "Flee  from  sin  as  from  the  face  of  a  serpent." 
Perhaps  very  few  know  how  a  man  feels  when,  for  the  first 
time,  he  finds  himself  within  a  few  inches  of  a  serpent  rearing 
its  head  ready  to  strike,  and  knows  that  one  stroke  of  those 
fangs  is  certain  death.  He  experiences  a  varied  passion.  Fear, 
hatred,  loathing,  desire  to  escape,  desire  to  kill,  all  rush  into  one 
moment,  making  his  entire  being  thrill.  Now,  take  two  men. 
One  is  in  the  face  of  that  serpent,  the  other  is  in  the  presence 
of  that  old  serpent  called  Satan,  the  devil.  Which  of  the  two 
has  most  reason  to  flee?  O  thou  that  art  tempted  to  sin  against 
God,  floe  from  sin  as  from  the  face  of  a  serpent — a  far  deadlier 
serpent  is  that  old  serpent,  the  devil,  than  the  other.  Fear  ev- 
ery sin — "abhor  it."  The  apostle's  word  is  not  "dislike  it," 
"disapprove  of  it,"  "have  a  distaste  for,  an  aversion  to,  it."  It 
is  not  even  the  ordinary  word  "hate,"  but  a  word  that  is  much 
stronger  than  any  of  these — a  word  which  in  the  original  is 
never  used,  except  this  once,  in  the  whole  New  Testament. 
The  idea  conveyed  to  the  people  to  whom  he  wrote  was,  hate 
it  as  you  would  the  way  to  hell.  So  it  is  the  way  to  hell.  Hate 
it  always  as  you  would  hate  the  way  to  hell. 

Faith. 

As  we  can  never  be  saved  without  a  Saviour,  so  we  can  never 
see  him  without  an  eye.  What  is  faith?  Faith  is  an  inwrought, 
firm,  or  abiding,  affectionate  and  reverential  persuasion  of  the 
truth  and  goodness  of  what  God  has  said  in  his  word.  In- 
wrought, for  God  himself  has  worked  it;  firm  and  abiding,  for 
it  goes  through  all  the  wind-blasts  of  the  wilderness  and  the 
wreck  of  death.  Foiled  it  may  be,  but  dislodged  from  its  posi- 
tion it  will  never  be.  AflTectionate,  for  it  works  by  love;  rev- 
erential, for  that  is  not  worth  calling  mine  that  leaves  its  sub- 
jects to  an  imprudence  in  religion.  Persuasion  is  the  determin- 
ing feature  of  its  persuasion  of  the  truth  and  goodness  of  what 
God  has  said  in  his  word  of  the  truth  and  goodness  of  the  tes- 
timony of  the  gospel. 


876  RE  LI  GIOUS  BE  PAR  TMENT. 

SiPSr^BOJPYPBD. 

Too  much  of  the  religious  conversation  in  prayer  and  con- 
ference meetings  is  stereotyped  and  stale,  lacking  in  freshness, 
originality,  and  interest.  You  will  very  commonly  hear  in  such 
meetings  something  like  the  following:  "I  think  I  love  Jesus, 
and  I  hope  you  will  pray  for  me  that  I  may  hold  out  faithful 
imto  the  end,  and  at  last  meet  you  all  in  heaven."  Very  good 
'words  indeed;  but,  by  reason  of  a  too  frequent  and  formal  rep- 
etition', very  dry  and  tame,  and  as  a  certain  quaint  writer  has 
said,  "About  as  much  evidence  that  a  man  is  a  disciple  of  Jesus 
as  looking  out  of  the  east  window  in  the  morning  is  that  he  is 
a  Persian  fire-worshiper."  Our  tendeifcies  seem  to  be  toward 
form  and  routine.  To  avoid  this  we  must  keep  faith  alive  and 
love  warm  by  much  prayer  and  study  of  the  word,  and  by  en- 
gaging actively  in  some  work  for  Christ  and  our  fellows.  To 
speak  fresh  and  living  words  we  need  a  fresh  and  living  expe- 
rience. With  this  the  most  set  phrases  of  Christian  conversa- 
tion become  instinct  with  life  and  pregnant  with  meaning,  and 
there  will  constantly  be  something  new  to  add  to  the  "old,  old 
story." 

©WO  Statements. 

Two  lines  of  argument  are  moving  along  side  by  side.  One 
is  that  the  Divine  Being  is  so  full  of  sentimental  tender- 
ness and  love  as  to  be  indifferent  to  the  violations  of  his 
laws.  This  argument  is  widely  taking  hold  of  the  minds  of  men, 
and  is  excluding  any  conception  of  the  character  of  God  as  a 
righteous  and  just  being  who  cannot  compromise  with  iniquity. 
The  other  argument  moves  along  with  awful  majesty  in  the 
events  of  God's  providential  government  —  great  storms  on 
land  and  sea,  destructive  floods,  awful  disasters,  and  condign 
punishment  of  individual  sins.  The  solemn  voices  of  winds, 
and  waters,  and  conflagrations,  and  the  sufferings  and  despair 
of  sinners,  proclaim  that  he  is  a  God  of  infinite  majesty,  and 
that  he  has  a  controversy  with  rebellious  men.  To  which  of 
these  ought  we  to  give  heed — the  voice  of  God  in  his  provi- 
dences, or  the  teaching  of  those  who  see  nothing  in  him  for  the 
transgressor  to  fear? 

He  who  is  impatient  with  events  is  impatient  with  God. 


THE  FUTURE.  877 

She  Bible  in  ©ei^u. 

Mr.  Milner,  the  Agent  of  the  American  Bible  Society,  who 
has  passed  from  the  Athmtic  to  the  Pacific  across  the  continent 
of  South  America,  gives  most  interesting  reports  of  his  work 
in  Peru.  Of  a  consignment  of  3,000  vohmics  he  had  remain- 
ing at  last  accounts  only  70  Testaments  and  300  portions,  which 
would  soon  be  disposed  of.  At  Tacna,  notwithstanding  the 
poverty  and  distress  caused  by  the  war,  there  were  sold  in 
eighteen  days  164  Bibles,  79  Testaments,  and  185  portions  for 
$193.90.  Many  persons  were  found  who  had  long  wished  to 
obtain  the  Scriptures,  but  had  not  known  where  to  procure 
them.  No  oj^position  was  encountered  either  from  the  civil 
authority  or  the  clergy,  and  not  an  instance  occurred  of  a  pur- 
chaser regretting  his  bargain  and  desiring  to  return  his  book. 

In  Arica,  a  town  of  2,000  inhabitants,  several  hundred  vol- 
umes of  Scripture  were  sold  in  a  single  week — not  in  quanti- 
ties, but  by  canvassing  from  house  to  house — the  largest  pur-- 
chase  by  one  person  being  four  Testaments  and  twelve  Gospels. 
His  receipts  from  sales  there  were  $112  in  gold. 

She  Futui^e. 

What  the  sinner  will  suffer  in  the  world  to  come  we  only 
know  in  hints  and  shadows.  But  we  know  very  well  what  he 
will  be  in  the  world  to  come.  The  law  of  the  development  of 
character  is  a  law  that  we  understand.  It  is  easy  to  shov  its 
workings  and  to  prophesy  its  issues.  And  if  you  can  clearly 
show  a  transgressor  the  thing  that  he  is  certain  to  become  if  he 
keeps  on  evil  ways,  the  sight  will  deter  him  from  transgression 
more  powerfully  than  any  vision  of  suffering  that  you  can  set 
before  him.  Of  what  is  to  be  inflicted  upon  him  you  must 
speak  guardedly;  you  do  not  know  much  about  that,  but  of 
what  will  take  place  in  him  you  can  speak  with  perfect  assur- 
ance, and  hhs  own  conscience  will  bear  witness  to  the  truth  of 
your  words. 

"Well,  madam,"  said  John  Newton  to  one  who  was  com- 
plaining of  the  imperfections  of  others,  "  if  there  were  a  perfect 
Church  on  earth  it  would  cease  being  so  the  moment  you  and  I 
entered  it."  And  that  remark  still  has  a  pertinent  application 
for  those  who,  we  fear,  won't  apply  it. 


8  78  RELIGIO  US  DETAIL  TMENT. 

©HE    CQOTHEI^'S    OPPBI^ING. 


BY  T.  W.  LANE. 


"Flowers  are  wanted  in  heaven  to-day," 

The  angel  said  to  me, 
"And  we  have  enough,  save  a  few  more  buds — 

Your  little  one  I  would  see." 

I  turned  me  about  and  brought  forth  my  child ; 

The  angel  looked  in  his  face  and  smiled: 
"There  is  nothing  fairer  in  heaven,"  said  he; 
"I  w411  take  this  bud  if  it  pleaseth  thee." 

I  looked  at  my  child  and  thought,  Alas, 
Life  is  ever  as  brittle  as  glass. 

In  manhood  as  in  infancy; 
Some  day  when  my  bud  doth  wider  ope, 
Just  when  the  full-blown  flower,  I  hope, 

It  may  fade,  and  droop,  and  die. 

It  may  fall  to  me — ah,  who  can  tell? — 
In  after-years  to  remember  well 

What  the  angel  said  to-day. 
And  to  wish,  with  many  and  many  a  tear, 
•    I  had  parted  then  with  my  bud  so  dear. 

And  granted  my  God  his  way. 

For  this  is  not  death,  with  somber  wing, 
'Tis  but  transplanting  the  dear  little  thing 

To  the  garden  of  my  God. 
Ah,  me,  I  shall  miss  him,  well  I  know — 
But  will  not  call  this  a  cruel  blow, 

Nor  say  I  have  felt  the  rod. 

So  I  took  my  babe  to  my  loving  breast. 
And  nursed,  and  soothed,  and  sung  him  to  rest; 
The  angel,  meanwhile,  smiled. 
"He  is  sleeping,"  I  said;  "let  him  not  awake 
Till  the  glory  of  God  around  him  break," 
And  I  gave  him  my  little  child. 


THE  PARSEE,  JEW,  AND  CHRISTIAN.         879 

Then  I  turned  and  I  bowed  me  low  to  the  ground — 
I  rose.     Neither  angel  nor  child  I  found; 
But  I  quiet  my  heart  with  the  precious  thought: 
My  child  is  with  God  and  can  lack  for  naught, 
And  I  know  that  some  time,  when  God  shall  please, 
I  will  meet  him  again  'neath  the  shadowless  trees. 

©HB   ©AI^SBE,  <5bW,  and  ^HI^ISTIAN. 

A  Jew  entered  a  Parsee  temple  and  beheld  the  sacred  fire. 
"What!"  said  he  to  the  priest,  "do  you  worship  the  fire?" 

"  Not  the  fire,"  answered  the  priest,  "  it  is  to  us  an  emblem  of 
the  sun,  and  of  his  genial  heat." 

"Do  you  then  worship  the  sun  as  your  god?"  asked  the  Jew. 
"Know  ye  not  that  this  luminary,  also,  is  but  a  work  of  that 
Almighty  Creator?" 

"  We  know  it,"  replied  the  priest;  "  but  the  uncultivated  man 
requires  a  sensible  sign,  in  order  to  form  a  conception  of  the 
Most  High.  And  is  not  the  sun  the  incomprehensible  source 
of  light,  an  image  of  that  Invisible  Being  who  blesses  and  pre- 
serves all  things?" 

"Do  your  people,  then,"  rejoined  .the  Israelite,  "distinguish 
the  type  from  the  original?  They  call  the  sun  their  god,  and, 
descending  even  from  this  to  a  baser  object,  they  kneel  before 
an  earthly  flame!  We  amuse  the  outward  but  blind  the  inward 
eye,  and  while  ye  hold  to  them  the  earthly  ye  draw  from  them 
\he  heavenly  light!  'Thou  shalt  not  make  unto  thyself  any 
graven  image,  or  any  likeness.'" 

"How  do  you  designate  the  Supreme  Being?"  asked  the 
Parsee. 

"We  call  him  Jehovah  Adonia — that  is,  the  Lord  who  is, 
who  was,  and  who  will  be,"  answered  the  Jew. 

"  Your  appellation  is  grand  and  sublime,"  said  the  Parsee ;  "  but 
it  is  awful,  too." 

A  Christian  then,  drew  nigh,  and  said,  "We  call  him  Father." 
The  Pagan  and  the  Jew  looked  at  each  other  and  said,  "Here 
is  at  once  an  image  and  a  reality;  it  is  a  word  of  the  heart." 

Therefore  they  all  raised  their  eyes  to  heaven  and  said,  with 
reverence  and  love,  "  Our  Father!  "  And  they  took  each  other 
by  the  hand,  and  all  three  called  one  another  brother! 


880  BELiaiOUS  DEPABTMENT. 

"Sblah." 

The  translators  of  the  Bible  have  left  the  Hebrew  word 
Selah,  which  occurs  so  often  in  the  Psalms,  as  they  found  it, 
and  of  course  the  English  reader  often  asks  his  minister,  or 
some  learned  friend,  what  it  means,  and  the  minister  or  learned 
friend  has  most  ofien  been  obliged  to  confess  ignorance,  because 
it  is  a  matter  in  regard  to  which  the  most  learned  have  by  no 
means  been  of  one  mind. 

The  Targums,  and  most  of  the  Jewish  commentators,  give  to 
the  word  the  meaning,  eternally,  forever.  Rabbi  Kimchi  regards 
it  as  a  sign  to  elevate  the  voice.  The  authors  of  the  Septuagint 
translation  appear  to  have  considered  it  a  musical  or  rhythmical 
note.  Herder  inclines  to  the  opinion  that  it  Indicates  a  change 
of  tone,  which  is  expressed  either  by  increase  of  force  or  by 
a  transition  into  another  time  and  mode.  Matheson  thinks  it 
is  a  musical  note,  equivalent,  perhaps,  to  the  word  repeat.  Ac- 
cording to  Luther  and  others  it  means  silence.  Gesenius  ex- 
plains it  to  mean,  "  Let  the  instruments  play  and  the  singers 
stop."  Wocher  regards  it  as  equivalent  to  sursum  coi'da,  Up,  my 
soul!  Sommer,  after  examining  all  the  seventy-four  passages 
in  which  the  word  occurs,  recognizes  in  every  case  "  an  actual 
appeal  or  summons  to  Jehovah."  They  are  calls  for  aid,  and 
prayers  to  be  heard,  expressed  either  with  entire  directness,  or 
if  not,  in  the  imperative.  Hear,  Jehovah!  or.  Awake,  Jehovah! 
and  the  like,  still,  earnest  address  to  God  that  he  would  re- 
member and  hear,  etc.  The  word  itself  he  considei's  indicative 
of  a  blast  of  trumpets  by  the  priests,  Selah  being  an  abridged 
expression  for  Higgaion  Selah — Higgaion  indicating  the  sound 
of  the  stringed  instruments,  and  Selah  a  vigorous  blast  of 
trumpets, 

r^ULES    POr^    ©HI^ISTIANS. 

1.  Let  me  never  be  found  where  I  could  not  expect  to  meet 
my  Saviour,  were  he  still  a  man  on  the  earth. 

2.  Where  I  could  not  ask  him  to  be  present  with  me. 

3.  Where  I  could  not  be  occupied  in  seeking,  as  opportunity 
offered,  to  win  others'to  him. 

4.  Where  I  should  not  like  him  to  find  me,  on  coming  sud- 
denly. 


DEAF  TO  AN  ALARM.  881 

(She    (QBSIP. 

An  expert,  called  to  examine  some  coins,  held  up  two  yellow 
eagles  and  said,  "I  think  one  of  these  is  counterfeit;  but  a  cer- 
tain acid  will  prove  it,  if  my  suspicion  is  well  founded." 

To  all  appearance  the  pieces  were  of  equal  value,  both  being 
perfectly  executed,  clear  and  brilliant  in  color,  and  having  the 
ring  of  the  true  metal.  However,  when  the  potent  fluid  came 
in.  contact  with  one,  it  instantly  turned  a  livid  green,  showing 
that  it  was  made  from  material  largely  composed  of  brass. 
Upon  the  other  the  strong  chemical  had  no  more  effect  than  so 
much  water. 

Many  people,  with  characters  seemingly  as  free  from  dross  as 
the  purest  gold,  .quickly  lose  their  outward  glitter,  and  reveal 
the  baseness  of  their  real  natures,  when  touched  by  the  acid  of 
a  severe  temptation.  Many  others,  in  every  walk  of  life,  al- 
though fairly  deluged  by  this  terrible  tester,  remain  uninjured 
in  armors  of  righteousness,  shining  with  finer  luster  after  every 
trial. 

Deaf  to  an  flLAi^M. 

Not  many  years  ago  a  student  in  Princeton  Seminary,  desir- 
ing to  arise  early  in  the  morning,  bought  an  alarm-clock.  For 
a  few  days  it  worked  well.  But  one  morning,  after  being 
aroused  by  its  alarm,  he  turned  over  and  went  to  sleep  again. 
On  subsequent  mornings  thie  clock  failed  to  awake  him.  He 
placed  it  under  the  head  of  the  bed,  in  close  proximity  to  his 
ear.  There  it  awaked  him  till  the  next  time  he  disobeyed  its 
summons;  ever  afterward  it  was  a  failure.  He  slept  through 
its  call  with  perfect  regularity. 

Yet,  on  the  other  hand,  many  a  mother  wakes  on  the  faintest 
voice  of  her  child,  and  many  a  watcher  on  the  slightest  move- 
ment of  the  patient.  They  haye  trained  themselves  to  heed 
such  calls. 

In  like  manner  the  conscience  may  be  deadened  or  trained. 
Let  the  Christian  disregard  its  voice,  and  soon  it  will  become 
unable  to  arouse  him  at  all.  Let  him  carefully  heed  its  faintest 
remonstrance,  and  it  will  become  to  him  a  most  valuable  mentor. 
Take  good  care  of  your  conscience;  it  is  a  most  delicate  appa- 
ratus. 

56 


882  RELIGIO  US  BEPAR  TMENT. 

fl  ^oNYiGT's  Speech. 

"  No  rogue  e'er  felt  the  halter  draw 
With  good  opinion  of  the  law." 
But  w^huen  there  is  a  weak  spot,  or  an  inconsistency  in  any  of 
the  agencies  that  execute  the  law,  the  authorities  should  be  no 
less  prompt  to  acknowledge  and  mend  it  because  a  criminal  was 
the  first  to  expose  it.  The  dishonest  are  quick  to  detect  dishon- 
esty, and  if  there  is  any  fraud  in  a  business  that  is  "farmed  out'" 
to  prisons  and  penitentiaries,  the  convicts  will  make  the  most 
of  it. 

The  notorious  James  Robinson,  or  "Jack  Sheppard,"  as  he  is 
best  known  to  the  police  in  Pennsylvania  and  Ohio,  was  sen- 
tenced in  Philadelphia  a  short  while  ago  to  three  years'  impris- 
onment for  stealing  a  dry  lot  of  merchandise.  The  prisoner, 
just  before  sentence  was  passed,  made  a  remarkable  address, 
reviewing  his  life  in  and  out  of  prison,  at  the  conclusion  of 
which  the  judge  said: 

"  When  your  term  expires  it  is  to  be  hoped  that,  after  what 
you  have  said,  you  will  endeavor  to  lead  a  different  life.  All 
you  have  to  do  is  to  bear  it  patiently." 

"Yes,"  answered  Sheppard,  "bear  it  patiently.  I  worked 
three  years  in  your  State-prison  making  shoes,  and  I  know  as 
much  about  watch-making  as  I  do  about  shoe-making.  They 
taught  me  in  your  State-prison  to  be  dishonest.  My  work  was 
to  paste  leather  and  pasteboard  together  to  make  -a  thick  sole 
to  impose  on  the  public.  The  man  having  the  conti'act  was  a 
member  of  a  Church,  and  at  tiie  time  I  called  his  attention  to 
the  pasteboard  business  he  was  foreman  of  the  grand  jury. 
They  send  me  to  a  State-prison  to  make  me  honest,  and  that  is 
how  they  do  it." 

If  you  are  impatient,  testy,  ill-humored,  spiteful,  malicious, 
cowardly,  and  mean,  your  whole  life  will  be  a  constant  reckon- 
ing with  evil  actions  whose  enormity  is  only  equaled  by  the  in- 
creasing wickedness  of  the  future,  and  an  unatoned  past  is  al- 
ways the  precursor  of  a  more  reprehensible  future.  A  bad 
heart  is  a  boomerang  of  passions,  whose  evil  consequences 
always  fall  on  the  head  of  their  luckless  author. 

Duties  are  ours — events  are  God's. 


A  WRECKED  PREACHER.  883 

P   QJl^BGI^ED   ^I^EAGHEl^. 

How  was  he  wrecked?  On  stimulants.  He  started  on  the 
more  common  ones  and  ended  on  the  more  violent.  He  went 
on  till  he  could  neither  study  nor  preach  without  high  stimula- 
tion. And  does  the  man  really  believe  that  the  Lqrd  has  any 
use  for  his  drunken  sermons?  What  an  utter  absurdity !  As 
well  believe  that  the  wild  poetry  from  the  drunken  brain  of  Poe 
is  acceptable  to  God!  If  a  preacher  cannot  do  his  work  with- 
out such  help  he  needs  a  course  of  treatment  as  an  invalid  that 
shall  break  the  chains  of  his  ruinous  habit. 

But  it  may  be  asked,  Why,  if  the  righteous  are  so  dear  to 
Christ  and  so  valuable  to  the  world,  are  they  doomed  to  death 
at  all?  Why  does  not  religion,  which  saves  us  from  a  thousand 
other  evils,  release  us  from  this  law  of  mortality?  In  answer, 
I  remark:  The  reasons  are  obvious  on  reflection.  Exemption 
from  death  as  a  reward  of  piety  would  appeal  so  strongly  to 
the  love  of  life — the  quickest,  most  enduring  instinct  of  our 
being — as  to  override  the  freedom  of  choice,  and  thus  make  ra- 
tional, voluntary  piety  impossible.  We  should  adopt  it  as  a 
starving  man  would  clutch  offered  bread,  or  the  man  dying  of 
thirst  would  seize  the  cup  of  cold  water.  And  besides  the  vio- 
lence done  to  our  nature  in  making  the  propensities  decide  a 
question  belonging — under  the  present  economy,  and  in  the 
proper  fitness  and  adaptation  of  things — to  the  intellect,  the 
heart,  the  will,  the  incongruity  would  follow  of  proposing  a 
carnal,  earthly  motive  for  a  spiritual  life.  On  such  a  plan  Chris- 
tianity must  approve  what  she  now  repudiates,  and  the  holy 
considerations  by  which  she  now  seeks  to  win  us  from  error  to 
w^isdom,  from  earth  to  heaven,  would  all  be  neutralized  and  lost, 
and  the  world  to  come  be  doomed  to  borrow  the  forces  of  time 
to  achieve  its  noblest  victories. 

Life  is  a  slate  where  all  our  faults  are  written.  Occasionally 
we  rub  over  it  the  sponge  of  repentance,  that  we  may  commence 
writing  our  faults  anew. 

As  a  king  is  honored  in  his  image,  so  God  is  loved  and  hated 
in  man.  He  cannot  hate  man  who  loves  God;  nor  can  he  who 
hates  God  love  man. 


884  EELiaiO  US  DJEPAB  TMENT. 

In  conversation  with  a  gentleman  a  few  days  since  he  said  he 
had  a  great  deal  to  do  with  courts,  and  especially  had  often 
served  on  the  grand  jury,  and  it  was  his  deliberate  judgment 
that  the  greatest  difficulty  in  the  way  of  executing  the  criminal 
laws  of  the  State  resulted  from  perjury.  Before  the  grand  jury 
witnesses  swore  to  one  class  of  facts,  and  when  the  same  wit- 
nesses appeared  in  open  court,  and  under  the  cross-questionings 
of  attorneys,  they  so  modified  their  testimony  that  conviction 
was  impossible.  He  suggested  that  preachers  should  preach 
against  this  horrible  vice  of  perjury. 

LxiTTLB  Sins. 

You  make  light  of  them  now,  but  they  are  not  to  be  trifled 
with;  they  creep  on  so  stealthily  that  you  scarcely  notice  them. 
By  and  by  you  will  find  it  impossible  to  turn  them  out. 

I  think  of  the  Indian  story  of  the  tiny  dwarf  who  asked  the 
king  to  give  him  all  the  ground  he  could  cover  with  three 
strides.  The  king,  seeing  him  so  small,  said,  "  Certainly." 
Whereupon  the  dwai'f  suddenly  shot  up  into  a  huge  giant,  cov- 
ered all  the  land  with  the  first  stride,  all  the  water  with  the  sec- 
ond, and  with  the  third  knocked  the  king  down  and  then  took 
the  throne. 

The  notion  of  the  South  Africans  of  the  entrance  of  sin  into 
the  world  is  embodied  in  the  following  legend:  Ihlangue  (the 
Creator)  sent  the  chameleon  to  men  to  tell  them  that  they 
should  live,  or  be  immortal;  but  the  lizard,  overhearing  the  mes- 
sage, came  first,  and  pretended  that  what  the  Creator  had  said 
was  that  they  should  die.  By  and  by  the  chameleon  came,  and 
did  as  he  was  bidden;  but  the  listeners  condemned  his  state- 
ment as  false,  and  now  appeal  to  experience  in  contradiction 
of  it.  Thus  the  pagan  natives  throw  stones  at  every  lizard  they 
see;  but  they  stone  the  chameleon  too,  exclaiming,  "Thou  lazy 
fool,  why  didst  thou  let  the  lizard  get  before  thee?" 

Earnestness  and  punctuality  are  the  essential  conditions  of 
success  in  the  social  meetings  of  the  Church.  Talented  lead- 
ership and  numbers  are  good  when  they  can  be  had,  but  are 
not  indispensable. 


THOUGHTS  ON  HOLINESS.  885 

Thoughts  on  r>0LiNBSS. 

I  went  forth  to  look  for  Repentance.  I  sought  her  day  and 
night  in  the  city  of  Man-soul.  I  asked  many  if  they  knew 
where  she  dwelt,  and  they  said  they  had  never  seen  her.  I  met 
one,  grave  and  scholarly,  who  told  me  what  she  was  like,  and 
bade  me  seek  her  earnestly;  but  he  did  not  tell  me  where  she 
was  to  be  found.  Then,  all  sad  at  heart  and  wearied  with  my 
search,  I  went  forth  without  the  city  walls,  and  climbed  a  lonely 
hill,  and  up  a  steep  and  rugged  way,  until  I  came  in  sight  of 
the  cross  and  of  Him  who  hung  thereon.  And  lo,  as  I  looked 
upon  him,  there  came  one  and  touched  me.  Then  instantly  my 
heart  was  melted,  and  all  the  great  deeps  of  my  soul  were  bro- 
ken up. 

"Ah,  Repentance,  I  have  been  looking  every-where  for  you," 
I  said. 

"Thou  wilt  always  find  me  here,"  said  Repentance;  "herein 
sight  of  my  crucified  Lord.     I  tarry  ever  at  his  feet." 

Again  I  went  forth  to  look  for  Forgiveness.  I  knocked  at 
many  a  door  in  the  city  of  Man-soul  and  asked  for  her.  And 
some  said  they  thought  she  did  live  there  sometimes;  and  some 
said  she  used  to,  once;  and  some  said  she  came  there  occasion- 
ally, when  the  weather  was  fine,  to  spend  a  Sunday.  Then  up 
came  one  whom  I  knew  by  name  as  Unbelief,  with  a  voice  like 
the  croaking  of  a  raven,  and  he  said  that  Forgiveness  never 
was  there,  and  never  would  be;  that  she  was  much  too  fine  a 
lady  to  live  in  so  low  a  place  as  that,  and  among  such  a  set  as 
they  were.  So  I  came  forth  wearied  and  sad,  and  as  I  reached 
the  city  gate  I  met  again  the  grave  scholar,  and  he  gave  me 
much  account  of  her  birth  and  parentage,  and  he  showed  me 
her  portrait,  and  told  me  of  her  gracious  works;  and  he  bade 
me  seek  her  earnestly,  but  he  did  not  tell  me  where  I  could  find 
her. 

So  I  went  along  my  way,  looking,  but  well-nigh  in  despair, 
when  it  chanced  that  I  found  myself  again  upon  the  high  hill, 
climbing  again  the  steep  and  rugged  path.  And  I  lifted  my 
eyes  and  saw  once  more  the  cross  and  Him  who  hangeth  there- 
on, and  lo,  at  the  first  sight  of  my  dear  Lord,  Forgiveness  met 
me,  and  filled  my  soul  with  holy  peace,  and  a  rest  like  heaven 
itself. 


886  BELIGIO  US  DEPAR  TMENT. 

"  O  I  have  had  a  weary  search  for  you,"  I  said. 
"I  am  always  here,"  said  Forgiveness;  "here  at  my  Master's 
feet." 

Long  afterward  I  wondered  within  myself  where  Holiness 
dwelt,  but  I  feared  to  go  in  search  of  her.  I  knew  she  would 
never  be  at  home  in  the  lowlands  and  busy  streets  of  Man-soul. 
All  whom  I  asked  about  her  answered  doubtfully.  One  said 
she  had  died  long  ago;  indeed,  was  buried  in  Eden  before  Adam 
came  out.  One  said  that  she  lived  away  at  the  end  of  the  Val- 
ley of  the  Shadow  of  Death,  her  house  was  on  the  brink  of  the 
river,  and  that  I  must  hope  to  meet  w^ith  her  just  before  I 
crossed  it.  Another  argued  almost  angrily  against  this  notion. 
"Nay,"  said  he,  "she  lives  further  on  still;  search  as  thou  wilt, 
thou  shalt  never  find  her  till  thou  art  safely  across  the  river  and 
landed  on  the  shores  of  the  Celestial  City." 

Then  I  remembered  how  well  I  had  fared  aforetime  on  that 
Holy  Hill,  and  went  forth  again.     So  up  the  lonely  way  I  went, 
and  reached  the  top  of   it,  and  looked  once  more  upon   my 
blessed  Saviour.     And   lo,   there  was  Holiness  sitting  at  the 
Master's  feet.     I  feared  to  say  that  I  had  been  looking  for  her, 
but  as  I  gazed  upon  the  Crucified,  and  felt  the  greatness  of  his 
love  for  me,  and  as  all  my  heart  went  out  in  love  and  adoration. 
Holiness  rose  up  and  came  to  me  all  graciously,  and  said,  "I 
have  been  waiting  for  thee  ever  since  thy  first  coming." 
"Waiting  where?"  I  asked  wonderingly. 
"At  His  feet,"  said  Holiness.     "I  am  always  there." 
Do  let  this  truth  sink  down  into  the  soul's  depths:  Holiness 
is  all  in  Jesus,  and  we  can  find  it  nowhere  else.     Ye  are  com- 
plete in  him. 

No  man  may  be  able  to  tell  me  altogether  what  holiness  is, 
but  what  of  that?  I  know  where  it  is — just  at  the  Master's 
feet. 

It  will  be  very  helpful  for  you  to  think  always  of  holiness, 
not  as  something  in  us,  but  as  a  power  in  Jesus. 

Sit  down,  dear  soul,  sit  down  at  his  feet;  look  up  into  his 
face.  By  the  height  and  depth,  the  length  and  breadth  of  the 
cross,  try  to  measure  the  vast  purposes  of  his  love  and  the  im- 
mensity of  his  grace  to  help.  Then  from  his  lips  hear  the 
words,  infinitely  tender  and  full  of  power:  "  Be  ye  therefore 
perfect." 


A   WINNING  ADDRESS.  887 

P   ^INNING  pDDI^ESS. 

The  Apostle  Paul  was  a  gentleman  and  a  scholar.  His 
speeches  and  letters  show  that.  While  he  was  at  Athens  "his 
spirit  was'  provoked  within  him,  as  he  beheld  the  city  full  of 
idols.'"  But  when,  in  response  to  the  citizens'  invitation,  he 
spoke  to  them  on  Mars'  Hill,  he  did  not  suffer  the  natural  irri- 
tation of  a  theist  against  idolaters  to  dictate  his  words.  On  the 
contrary,  he  put  himself  for  the  time  in  sympathy  with  them, 
and  began,  as  it  reads  in  the  original:  "  Ye  men  of  Athens,  in 
all  things  I  perceive  that  ye  are  somewhat  religious." 

The  apostle  was  as  wise  as  he  was  courteous.  His  knowl- 
edge of  human  nature  had  taught  him  that  he  who  would  con- 
vince a  man  .should  begin  by  finding  some  ground,  common  to 
both,  on  which  they  could  stand.  His  sense  of  the  fitness  of 
things — that  is,  his  courtesy — forbade  him  to  begin  an  argument 
by  denouncing  the  faith  and  worship  of  a  man  he  would  lead 
to  a  higher  life.  He  is  anxious  to  win  him  for  a  friend,  there- 
fore he  will  not  make  him  an  antagonist. 

In  reading  an  English  magazine,  we  met  with  an  anecdote 
about  a  missionary  in  India  who  seems  to  have  been  influenced 
by  the  courteous  spirit  which  pervades  the  apostle's  address  at 
Athens.  The  anecdote  is  given  in  an  English  judge's  account 
of  a  conversation  he  once  held  with  a  Brahmin,  the  clerk  of  his 
court.  The  judge,  while  traveling  on  an  elephant  with  his 
clerk,  ventured  to  talk  with  him  on  religion. 

"I  began  by  asking  him  what  he  thought  of  Christianity — 
did  he  know  its  doctrine,  and  had  he  considered  its  claims? 
The  ordinary  reply  was  given:  'It  is  a  good  religion  for  Euro- 
peans, just  as  Hinduism  is  a  good  religion  for  myself.' 

"I  asked:  'Have  you  ever  heard  a  padre  preach?'  'O  yes, 
but  I  was  only  once  impressed  by  what  I  heard.  Generally  the 
padres  who  come  here  do  not  sufficiently  know  the  language, 
and  speak  to  us  through  an  interpreter.  How  little  do  they 
imagine  what  the  man  says!  Often  he  just  issues  short  orders, 
as  if  repeating  messages  from  master  to  his  servant,  such  as: 
"The  padre  says  you  must  pray  every  morning  and  every  even- 
ing." "The  padre  says  you  must  not  tell  lies."  But,  sahib,  one 
day  there  came  a  very  different  padre.  He  was  pale,  and  had  a 
broad  black  hat  and  a  beard,  and  wore  a  long  coat  which  came 


888  RELIGIOUS  DEPARTMENT. 

down  to  his  knees,  and  he  stood  in  our  bazaar  and  spoke  to  us 
in  our  own  language.     I  shall  never  forget  w^hat  he  preached. 

He  began:  "  I  was  yesterday  at  R .     How  very  different  the 

people  there  are  from  you!  The  temples  I  found  in  good  order, 
and  there  were  many  doing  pajah  (worship),  and  fevery  one 
had  his  religious  marks  on  his  forehead,  and  seemed  to  think  of 
his  god  and  lead  a  religious  life.  But  here!  Look  at  the  tem- 
ples— they  are  out  of  repair,  and  the  floors  dirty,  and  the  shrines 
neglected.  There  are  no  worshipers,  and  you  seem  to  live  as 
if  there  were  no  God,  and  no  life  but  the  present  one.  Can 
this  be  right.''  I  come  to  remind  you  that  there  is  a  God,  and 
that  he  requires  from  you  worship,  and  I  bring  you  from  him 
books  that  you  may  know  what  you  are  to  do  to  be  good  and 
happy,  and  have  happiness  in  the  life  to  come." 

'"We  all  wondered  as  he  spoke  to  us.  He  said  nothing 
against  Vishnu,  or  Siva,  or  Luchmee,  or  any  of  the  gods,  and 
nothing  against  the  Brahmins,  but  only  that  we  must  worship 
God  and  be  good  and  holy  men  and  women. 

"'And  he  went  on:  "Now,  you  who  do  pray,  I  expect  you 
just  kneel  down  and  say,  'Ram!  Ram!  Ram!'  and  go  on  say- 
ing this  and  nothing  more.  Is  that  praying?  Suppose  you 
had  a  poor  crop,  or  had  a  wedding  and  spent  all  you  had 
saved,  and  wanted  your  zemindar  (landlord)  to  take  off"  some 
of  the  rent,  would  you  go  to  him  and  just  say,  'Babu!  Babu! 
Babu!'  and  nothing  else?  No;  you  would  say,  'Babu!  the 
crop  has  failed,'  or  'Babu!  I  have  just  married  my  daughter 
and  spent  all  my  money,'  or  'Babu!  I  am  so  heavily  in  debt 
with  the  money-lender  that  I  cannot  just  now  pay  my  rent. 
Yoii  are  rich,  and  generous,  and  noble;  have  pity  on  me  and 
forgive  me  my  rent  this  time,  and  I  will  bless  you.'  So  when 
you  kneel  to  God,  say  not  just  'Ram!  Ram!  Ram!'  but  tell 
God  of  your  sins,  and  say,  '  O  forgive  me! '  or  tell  him  of  your 
wants,  and  say,  'O  grant  me  what  I  need!'  or  tell  him  of  your 
troubles,  and  say,  'O  help  and  comfort  me!'" 

"And  then,  looking  seriously  and  tearfully,  the  Brahmin 
said:  'Yes,  sahib,  I  shall  never  forget  that  padre.  I  do  not 
know  his  name,  or  where  he  came  from,  or  where  he  went,  but 
should  you  ever  find  him,  tell  him  I  thank  him,  and  that  I  now 
never  pray  as  I  used  to  do,  just  uttering,  without  any  thought, 
the  name  of  my  God,  but  I  tell  God  of  my  sins,  and  mv  needs, 


PRA  YIJVG  AND  FIGHTING.  889 

and  my  sorrows,  and  I  ask  for  his  pardon,  and  his  help,  and  his 
blessing.'" 

Of  a  truth,  this  Brahmin  clerk  was  "not  far  from  the  king- 
dom of  heaven."  His  story  suggests  that  he  who  would  teach 
a  better  way  to  another  should  be  sympathetic  and  not  denun- 
ciatory, conciliatory  and  not  bitter.  It  is  the  winning  address 
that  is  effective. 

^I^AYING  AND   FIGHTING. 

Admiral  Colpoys  always  bore  witness  to  the  benefit  in  his  life 
and  character  derived  from  t  olio  wing  the  advice  of  his  good 
old  landlady.  When  a  mei«e  boy,  and  about  to  leave  the  shelter 
of  her  roof  to  go  on  his  first  voyage  as  a  midshipman  in  the 
navy,  she  gave  him  a  guinea,  and  said  to  him,  "  Never  suffer 
yourself  to  be  laughed  out  of  your  money  or  your  prayers." 

No  one  appreciates  more  keenly  than  an  English  sailor  the 
firmness  that  will  hold  a  youngster  faithful  to  his  Bible  and  his 
prayers  on  ship-board.  They  know  that  a  boy  who  has  the 
courage  to  perform  his  devotions  there,  in  spite  of  the  ridicule 
he  gets,  will  have  the  courage  to  do  any  duty — and  they  equally 
despise  the  boy  who  shows  any  shame  of  his  religion. 

There  is  an  illustration  of  this  in  Ballentyne's  anecdote  of 
Robin  Wright,  a  young  electrician  connected  with  the  force  of 
assistants  on  board  the  Great  Eastern,  at  the  time  the  cable  of 
1866  was  laid. 

When  night  came,  at  the  close  of  his  first  day  on  board,  in 
the  harbor,  as  his  place  had  not  been  assigned,  Jim  Slagg,  a 
steward  hand,  who  had  taken  a  great  fancy  to  Robin,  prevailed 
on  him  to  accept  his  berth. 

Robin  thanked  his  friend,  and  said  as  he  was  rather  tired  he 
would  turn  in.  Pulling  out  the  small  Bible  he  had  carried  in 
his  pocket  since  he  left  home,  he  went  into  a  corner,  read  a  few 
verses,  and  then  knelt  down  to  pray.  The  surprise  of  the  other 
lads  was  expressed  in  their  eyes,  but  they  said  nothing. 

Just  then  in  walked  a  big  boy  named  Stumps.  Catching  sight 
of  Robin  on  his  knees,  he  opened  his  eyes  wide,  pursed  his 
lips,  and  gave  a  low  whistle.  Then  he  went  up  to  Robin  aijd 
gave  him  a  slight  kick.  Supposing  that  it  was  an  accident, 
Robin  did  not  move,  but  on  receiving  another  and  much  more 
decided  kick,  he  rose  and  turned  around.  • 


890  RELIGIOUS  DEPARTMENT. 

At  the  same  moment  Stumps  received  a  resounding  and 
totally  unexpected  slap  on  the  cheek  from  Jim  Slagg,  who  had 
planted  himself  before  him  with  clenched  fists  and  flashing 
eyes.  "  What  d'ye  mean  by  interferin'  wi'  my  friend  at  his  de- 
wotions,  you  monkey-faced  polypus?  "he  demanded,  fiercely. 

The  "monkey-faced  polypus"  replied  by  delivering  a  blow 
at  Jim  that  might  have  felled  a  small  horse.  Jim,  however,  was 
prepared  for  that.  He  turned  his  head  to  one  side  so  as  to  let 
the  blow  pass,  and  at  the  same  moment  planted  his  knuckles  on 
the  bridge  of  his  opponent's  nose  and  sent  him  headlong  into  a 
bunk  that  lay  conveniently  behind. 

"There,"  said  he,  "if  you've  had* enough,  say  so,  and  we'll 
shake  hands.  Next  time  you  feels  tempted  to  kick  a  gentle- 
man— 'specially  an  electrician — at  his  dewotions,  remember  Jim 
Slagg  an'  restrain  yourself.  I  don't  bear  ye  no  ill-will,  so  good- 
night." 

On  the  following  evening,  when  bed-time  came,  Robin,  after 
considering  awhile,  concluded  it  would  hardly  be  advisable  to 
risk  a  repetition  of  the  scene  of  last  night;  so  without  reading 
his  Bible  he  crept  into  his  berth,  and  began  to  say  his  prayers 
in  bed. 

But  Jim  Slagg,  who  was  present,  no  sooner  saw  what  he  was 
about  than  he  jumped  up  with  a  roar  of  indignation. 

"Here,  you  white-livered  electrician!"  he  cried,  "what  are 
you  doin'  there?  Git  up!  If  I'm  to  fight,  you  must  pray! 
D'ye  hear?     Turn  out,  I  say!" 

With  this  he  seized  Robin,  dragged  him  out  of  bed,  thrust 
him  on  his  knees,  and  bade  him  do  his  "  dooty." 

At  first,  Robin's  spirit  rose  in  rebellion,  but  a  sense  of  self- 
contempt  at  his  moral  cowardice,  and  of  the  justice  of  his 
friend's  remarks,  subdued  him.  He  did  pray  forthwith,  though 
what  the  nature  of  his  prayer  was  we  do  not  know.  The  les- 
son, however,  was  not  lost.  From  that  night  forward  Robin 
Wright  was  no  longer  ashamed  or  afraid  to  be  seen  in  the  atti- 
tude of  prayer. 

Let  us  make  a  note  of  this,  as  a  point  of  spiritual  wisdom, 
never  to  restrain  an  impulse  to  pray.  Who  can  tell  with  what 
treasure  he  is  laden  when  the  Holy  Spirit  in  this  way  knocks 
at  our  heart's  door? 


THE  CHOPPED  BIBLE.  891 

She  (i>HOPPBD  Bible. 

"Take  it  and  read  it!"  said  the  voice  to  Augustine,  as  he  lay 
in  the  garden  with  a  roll  of  the  gospel  by  his  side.  He  obeyed, 
and  the  dissipated  skeptic  became  a  Christian  preacher. 

The  best  way  to  acquire  faith  in  the  Bible  is  to  read  it.  The 
book  is  its  own  evidence. 

A  few  years  ago,  a  Bible  distributor,  while  passing  through 
a  village  in  Western  Massachusetts,  was  told  of  a  family  in 
whose  home  there  was  not  even  the  cheapest  copy  of  the 
Scriptures  —  so  intense  was  the  hostility  of  the  husband  to 
Christianity. 

The  distributor  starts  at  once  to  visit  the  family,  and  found 
the  wife  hanging  out  her  week's  washing.  In  the  course  of  a 
pleasant  conversation,  he  offered  her  a  neatly-bound  Bible. 

With  a  smile  which  said  "Thank  you!"  she  held  out  her 
hand,  but  instantly  withdrew  it.  She  hesitated  to  accept  the 
gift,  knowing  that  her  husband  would  be  displeased  if  she 
took  it. 

A  few  pleasant  words  followed,  in  which  the  man  spoke  of 
the  need  of  the  mind  of  Divine  direction,  and  of  the  adaptation 
of  the  Bible  to  that  need,  and  the  woman  resolved  to  take  the 
gift.  Just  then  her  husband  came  from  behind  the  house  with 
an  ax  on  his  shoulder. 

Seeing  the  Bible  in  his  wife's  hand,  he  looked  threateningly 
at  her,  and  then  said  to  the  distributor,  "  What  do  you  want, 
sir,  with  my  wife?" 

The  frank  words  of  the  Christian  man,  spoken  in  a  manly 
way,  so  far  softened  his  irritation  that  he  replied  to  him  with 
civility.  But  stepping  up  to  his  wife,  he  took  the  Bible  from 
her  hand,  saying,  "  We  have  always  had  every  thing  in  com- 
mon, and  we'll  have  this,  too." 

Placing  the  Bible  on  the  chopping-block,  he  cut  it  in  two 
parts  with  one  blow  of  the  ax.  Giving  one  part  to  his  wife, 
and  putting  the  other  in  his  pocket,  he  walked  away. 

Several  days  after  this'  division  of  the  Bible,  he  was  in  the 
forest  chopping  wood.  At  noon  he  seated  himself  on  a  log 
and  began  eating  his  dinner.  The  dissevered  Bible  suggested 
itself.  He  took  it  from  his  coat-pocket,  and  his  eye  fell  on  the 
last  page.     He  began  reading,  and  soon  was  deeply  interested 


892  RELIGIOUS  DEPARTMENT. 

in  the  story  of  the  Prodigal  Son.  But  his  part  ended  with  the 
son's  exclamation,  "  I  will  arise  and  go  to  my  father." 

At  night  he  said  to  his  wife,  with  affected  carelessness:  "Let 
me  have  your  part  of  that  Bible.  I've  been  reading  about  a 
boy  who  ran  away  from  home,  and  after  having  a  hard  time 
decided  to  go  back.  There  my  part  of  the  book  ends,  and  I 
want  to  know  if  he  ever  got  back,  and  how  the  old  man  re- 
ceived him." 

The  wife's  heart  beat  violently,  but  she  mastered  her  joy  and 
quietly  handed  the  husband  her  part,  without  a  word. 

He  read  the  story  through,  and  then  reread  it.  He  read  on, 
far  into  the  night.     But  not  a  word  did  he  say  to  his  wife. 

During  the  leisure  moments  of  the  next  day,  his  wife  saw  him 
reading  the  new-joined  parts,  and  at  night  he  said,  abruptly, 
"Wife,  I  think  that's  the  best  book  I  ever  read." 

Day  after  day  he  read  it.  His  wife  noticed  his  few  words, 
which  indicated  that  he  was  becoming  attached  to  it.  One  day 
he  said:  "  Wife,  I'm  going  to  try  and  live  by  that  book;  I  guess 
it's  the  best  sort  of  a  guide  for  a  man." 

And  he  did.  A  strong  prejudice  against  religious  truth,  grow- 
ing out  of  a  partial  conviction  of  its  necessity,  is  often  followed 
by  a  changed  life,  and  such  was  this  man's  experience. 

Sing  out  a  song  of  trust  and  love, 
Sing  praises  to  the  God  above — 
A  new  glad  song  of  gratitude; 
His  work  is  ever  kind  and  good. 
Put  in  the  sickle,  reap  the  corn; 
It  is  the  pleasant  harvest-morn! 

Religion,  in  its  purity,  is  not  so  much  a  pursuit  as  a  temper; 
or  rather  it  is  a  temper,  leading  to  the  pursuit  of  all  that  is  high 
and  holy.  Its  foundation  is  faith;  its  aim  is  obedience  to  God 
in  improvement  of  self  and  benevolence  to  men. —  Try  on  Ed- 
wards. 

I  do  not  find  that  to  give  up  anxiety  and  to  trust  in  God  is  dif- 
ficult now,  though  it  used  to  be.  Blessed  be  my  Lord,  I  cannot 
help  believing  him,  for  he  loads  me  down  with  evidences  of  his 
truth  and  fidelity. 


A  SKULL  THAT  HAD  A  TON  QUE.  893 

fl   Sl^ULL   IFHAJF   HAD  A  ©ONGUB. 

When  Dr.  John  Donne,  the  famous  poet  and  divine  of  the 
reign  of  James  I.,  attained  possession  of  his  first  Uving,  he  took 
a  walk  into  the  church-yard,  where  the  sexton  was  at  the  time 
digging  a  grave,  and  in  the  course  of  his  labor  threw  up  a  skull. 
This  skull  the  doctor  took  in  his  hands,  and  found  a  rusty,  head- 
less nail  sticking  in  the  temple  of  it,  which  he  drew  out  secretly 
and  wrapped  in  the  corner  of  his  handkerchief.  He  then  de- 
manded of  the  grave-digger  whether  he  knew  whose  skull  it 
was. 

He  said  it  was  a  man's  who  kept  a  brandy-shop— an  honest, 
drunken  fellow,  who,  having  taken  two  quarts  one  night,  was 
found  dead  in  his  bed  next  morning. 

"Had  he  a  wife?" 

"  Yes." 

'■  What  character  does  she  bear? " 

"A  very  good  one;  only  the  neighbors  reflect  on  her  because 
she  married  the  day  after  her  husband  was  buried." 

This  was  enough  for  the  doctor,  who,  under  the  pretense  of 
visiting  his  parishioners,  called  on  the  woman.  He  asked  her 
several  questions,  and  among  others  what  sickness  her  husband 
died  of.  She  gave  him  the  same  account  he  had  before  re- 
ceived, whereupon  he  suddenly  opened  the  handkerchief,  and 
said,  in  an  authoritative  voice,  "Woman,  do  you  know  this 
nail?" 

She  was  struck  with  horror  at  the  unexpected  demand,  in- 
stantly owned  the  fact,  and  was  brought  to  trial  and  executed. 
Truly  might  one  say,  with  even  more  point  than  Hamlet,  that 
the  skull  had  a  tongue  in  it. 

Some  Churches  in  the  North  have  a  committee  for  shaking 
hands  with  visitors.  The  idea  is  not  a  bad  one.  An  improve- 
ment on  it  can  be  made  when  the  Church  is  resolved  into  a 
committee  of  the  whole,  and  each  member  makes  it  his  or  her 
duty  to  say  a  kind  word  to  every  visitor  who  enters  the  sanct- 
uary. 

Make  it  a  point  to  so  arrange  your  aflfairs  that  there  shall  be 
no  unseemly  hurry  on  the  Sabbath.  It  is  a  day  of  rest,  and 
haste  and  bustle  mar  its  sweet  quiet. 


894  RELIGIO  US  DEPAR  TMENT. 

©HE   (qWO  ^BAYE]?^S. 

As  at  their  work  two  weavers  sat, 
Beguiling  time  with  friendly  chat, 
They  touched  upon  the  price  of  wheat — 
So  high,  a  weaver  scarce  could  eat. 

"What  with  my  brats  and  sickly  wife," 
Quoth  Dick,  "  I'm  almost  tired  of  life. 
So  hard  my  work,  so  poor  my  fare, 
'Tis  more  than  mortal  man  can  bear. 

"How  glorious  is  the  rich  man's  state — 
His  house  so  fine!  his  wealth  so  great! 
Heaven  is  unjust,  you  must  agree; 
Why  all  to  him?  why  none  to  me? 

"  In  spite  of  all  the  Scripture  teaches — 
In  spite  of  what  the  parson  preaches. 
This  world — indeed  I've  thought  so  long — 
Is  ruled,  methinks,  extremely  wrong. 

"Where'er  I  look,  howe'er  I  range, 
'Tis  all  confused,  and  hard,  and  strange; 
The  good  are  troubled  and  oppress'd. 
While  all  the  wicked  are  the  bless'd." 

Qiioth  John:  "Our  ignorance  is  the  cause; 
We  must  not  blame  our  Maker's  laws; 
For  man's  ways  alone  we  know — 
'Tis  all  that  man  can  see  below. 

"  Seest  thou  that  carpet  not  half  done. 
Which  thou,  dear  Dick,  hast  well  begun; 
Behold  the  wild  confusion  there — 
So  rude  the  mass,  it  makes  one  stare. 

"A  stranger,  ignorant  of  the  trade. 
Would  say  no  meaning's  there  conveyed; 
For  Where's  the  middle,  where's  the  border? 
Thy  carpet  now  is  all  disorder." 


THE  TWO  WEAVERS.  895 

Quoth  Dick:  "My  work  is  yet  in  bits, 
But  still  in  every  part  it  fits; 
Besides,  you  reason  like  a  lout. 
Why,  man,  that  carpet's  inside  out." 

Says  John;  "Thou  sayest  the  thing  I  mean, 
And  now  I  hope  to  cure  thy  spleen; 
This  world,  which  clouds  thy  soul  with  doubt, 
Is  but  a  carpet  inside  out. 

"  No  plan,  no  pattern,  can  we  trace. 
All  wants  proportion,  truth,  and  grace; 
The  motley  mixture  we  deride, 
Nor  see  the  beauteous  upper  side. 

"  But  when  we  reach  that  world  of  light, 
And  view  those  works  of  God  aright. 
Then  shall  we  see  the  whole  design. 
And  own  the  Workman  is  divine. 

"  What  now  seems  random  strokes  will  there 
All  order  and  design  appear; 
Then  shall  we  praise  what  here  we  spurned, 
For  then  the  carpet  shall  be  turned." 

"Thou  art  right,"  quoth  Dick,  "  no  more  I'll  grumble 
That  this  sad  world's  so  strange  a  jumble; 
My  impious  doubts  are  put  to  flight. 
For  my  own  carpet  sets  me  right." 

The  hunger  of  Christians  for  the  healthy,  strengthening, 
nourishing,  and  nutritious  supplies  for  the  soul,  in  the  form  of 
pure  literature,  is  one  of  the  favorable  signs  of  the  times.  This 
supply  appears  to  be  now  greater  than  at  any  former  period  of 
the  world's  history. 

The  Rev.  W.  Harrison,  of  England,  states  that  "of  twenty 
infidel  lecturers  and  writers  who  have  been  prominent  in  the 
last  thirty  years,  sixteen  have  abandoned  their  infidelity  and 
openly  professed  their  faith  in  Christ  and  their  joy  in  his  salva- 
tion." 


896  RELIGIOUS  DEPARTMENT. 

©HE   ©BSTIMONY   OP    liKAI^NBD   CQEN. 

Sir  William  Jones's  opinion  of  the  Bible  was  written  on  the 
last  leaf  of  one  belonging  to  him,  in  these  terms:  "  I  have  reg- 
ularly and  attentively  read  these  Holy  Scriptui'es,  and  am  of 
opinion  that  this  volume,  independently  of  its  Divine  origin, 
contains  more  sublimity  and  beauty,  more  pure  morality,  more 
important  history,  and  finer  strains  of  poetry  and  eloquence, 
than  can  be  collected  from  all  other  books,  in  whatsoever  age 
or  language  they  may  have  been  composed." 

Rousseau  says:  "This  Divine  Book,  the  only  one  which  is 
indispensable  to  the  Christian,  need  only  be  read  with  reflection 
to  inspire  love  for  its  Author,  and  the  most  ardent  desire  to  obey 
its  precepts.  Never  did  virtue  speak  so  sweet  a  language; 
never  was  the  most  profound  wisdom  expressed  with  so  much 
energy  and  simplicity.  No  one  can  arise  from  its  perusal  with- 
out feeling  himself  better  than  he  was  before." 

Wilberforce,  in  his  dying-hour,  said  to  a  friend:  "Read  the 
Bible.  Let  no  religious  book  take  its  place.  Through  all  my 
perplexities  and  distresses  I  never  read  any  other  book,  and  I 
never  knew  the  want  of  any  other.  It  has  been  my  hourly 
study,  and  all  my  knowledge  of  the  doctrines,  and  all  my  ac- 
quaintance with  the  experiences  and  realities  of  religion  hav'e 
been  derived  from  the  Bible  onl}'.  I  think  religious  people  do 
not  read  the  Bible  enough.  Books  about  religion  may  be  use- 
ful enough,  but  they  will  not  do  instead  of  the  simple  truth  of 
the  Bible." 

Lord  Bolingbroke  declared  that  "the  gospel  is,  in  all  cases, 
one  continued  lesson  of  the  strictest  morality,  of  justice,  of 
benevolence,  and  of  universal  charity." 

Similar  testimony  has  been  accorded  in  the  strongest  terms 
by  Locke,  Newton,  Boyle,  Selden,  Salmasius,  Sir  Walter  Scott, 
and  numberless  others. 

Daniel  Webster  having  been  commended  for  his  eloquence 
on  a  memorable  occasion,  replied:  "If  any  thing  I  have  ever 
said  or  written  deserves  the  feeblest  encomiums  of  my  fellow- 
countrymen,  I  have  no  hesitation  in  declaring  that  for  their 
partiality  I  am  indebted,  solely  indebted,  to  the  daily  and  attent- 
ive perusal  of  the  Holy  Scriptures,  the  source  of  all  true  poetry 
and  eloquence,  as  well  as  of  all  good  and  all  comfort." 


THE  TESTIMONY  OF  LEARNED  MEN.        897 

John  Qiiincy  Adams,  in  a  letter  to  his  son  in  1811,  says:  "I 
have  for  many  years  made  it  a  practice  to  read  through  the 
Bible  once  every  year.  My  custom  is  to  read  four  or  five  chap- 
ters every  morning,  immediately  after  rising  from  my  bed.  It 
employs  about  an  hour  of  my  time,  and  seems  to  me  the  most 
suitable  manner  of  beginning  the  day.  In  whatever  light  we 
regard  the  Bible,  whether  with  reference  to  revelation,  to  his- 
tory, or  to  morality,  it  is  an  invaluable  and  inexhaustible  mine 
of  knowledge  and  virtue." 

Addison  says,  in  relation  to  the  poetry  of  the  Bible:  "After 
perusing  the  book  of  Psalms,  let  a  judge  of  the  beauties  of 
poetry  read  a  literal  translation  of  Horace  or  Pindar,  and  he 
will  find  in  these  two  last  such  an  absurdity  and  confusion  of 
style,  with  such  a  comparative  poverty  of  imagination,  as  will 
make  him  sensible  of  the  vast  superiority  of  Scripture-style." 

Lord  Byron,  in  a  letter  to  Mrs.  Sheppard,  said  in  reference 
to  the  truth  of  Christianity:  "Indisputably  the  firm  believers 
in  the  gospel  have  a  great  advantage  over  all  others,  for  this 
simple  reason,  that,  if  true,  they  will  have  their  reward  here- 
after; and  if  there  be  no  hereafter,  they  can  be  but  with  the  in- 
fidel in  his  eternal  sleep,  having  had  the  assistance  of  an  exalted 
hope  through  life,  without  subsequent  disappointment,  since 
(at  the  worst,  for  them)  out  of  nothing  nothing  can  arise — not 
even  sorrow." 

Sound  doctrine  is  to  be  maintained,  because  it  is  the  doctrine 
that  is  according  to  godliness.  It  is  with  the  word  of  truth  the 
people  of  God  are  renewed,  and  by  the  truth  that  they  are  to 
be  sanctified.  But  no  zeal  for  the  truth  that  is  not  illustrated 
by  such  effects  is  of  any  worth  to  the  subject  of  it  or  to  others. 
To  every  man  the  value  of  the  doctrine  he  receives  and  pro- 
fesses is  just  what  it  does  for  him  as  a  moral  and  spiritual  be- 
ing; if  it  makes  him  a  better  man,  it  is  well;  if  not,  he  is  so 
much  the  worse  for  the  orthodoxy  on  which  he  perhaps  prides 
and  values  himself  The  devils  believe,  and  tremble.  Too 
iTiany  men  believe  the  most  momentous  truths  with  listless  com- 
posure. 

Personal  character  should  always  be  a  resultant  of  true  action, 
instituted  for  unselfish  purposes.     It  is  great  meanness  to  make 
reputation  a  pursuit. 
57 


898  religious  department. 

Soul  I^bsip. 

My  soul  is  resting  in  God's  peace, 

Without  a  care  or  fear; 
The  tumults  of  my  bosom  cease^ 

For  Christ  my  Lord  is  here. 

The  Spirit  poureth  from  on  high 

A  sanctifying  tide, 
And,  bathing  in  its  stream  of  joy, 

My  soul  is  satisfied. 

He  driveth  curious  doubts  away, 

He  giveth  childlike  faith; 
And  so  I  take  the  yea  or  nay, 

Just  as  my  Saviour  saith. 

I  have  not  other  w^ish  to  be 

Than  what  my  Lord  ordains; 
So  what  he  knoweth  best  for  me. 

That  be  my  richest  gains. 

A  spirit  meek  and  quieted 

Is  better  than  a  crown; 
How  rich  the  blessings  on  the  head 

That  Jesus  sendeth  down! 

Here  in  this  banquet-house  I  bide, 

His  banner  o'er  me,  love. 
And  wait  the  coming  eventide 

Of  perfect  peace  above. 

"I  would  rather  crack  stones  on  the  road  than  be  a  pastoi 
where  I  cannot  speak  my  mind,"  was  the  farewell  of  a  Con- 
gregational minister  in  England,  who  was  persecuted  by  his 
congregation  for  his  temperance  principles.  Neighboring  min- 
isters gave  him  a  purse  to  express  their  approval. 

In  God's  matters  there  are  not,  as  in  grammar,  the  positive 
and  comparative  degrees;  there  are  not  a  true,  a  more  true,  and 
most  true.  Truth  is  an  indivisible  line  that  hath  no  latitude. — 
Samuel  Rutherford. 


LIVING  ABOVE  OUR  TROUBLES.  899 

IlIYING  fiBOYB   OUI^  Sl^OUBLBS. 


BY  H.  W.  BELCHER. 


I  have  noticed  that  when  birds  are  emigrating  they  fly  so 
high  that  no  fowler's  aim  can  disturb  them.  When  they  fly 
lowest  they  are  seldom  within  the  reach  of  the  gun.  I  remem- 
ber that  when  I  used  to  fire  at  the  great  flocks  of  fowls  that 
were  flying  in  the  air  the  utmost  effect  upon  them  was  to  cause 
them  to  separate,  only  to  come  together  again  in  an  instant.  So 
docs  God  enable  his  people  to  fly  so  far  above  the  world  that 
the  troubles  by  which  other  men  are  smitten  down  only  cause 
them  to  swerve  from  their  course,  which  they  instantly  resume, 
and  follow  again  with  strong  bent  and  full  speed.  It  is  a  great 
thing  to  live  higher  than  trouble,  higher  than  disappointments, 
higher  than  mischiefs  th'at  would  embroil  us;  and  we  may  do 
it.  If  we  propose  to  do  it,  if  we  feel  the  need  of  doing  it,  if 
we  are  determined  to  do  it,  then  we  can  do  it.  If  we  seek  for 
this  supernal  state  of  high,  spiritual  living,  as  we  seek  for  other 
things,  we  shall  find  it.  If  we  search  for  it  as  for  hidden  treas- 
xires,  we  shall  surely  not  miss  it. 

And  when  we  have  come  to  that  state  we  are  not,  as  some 
perhaps  may  think,  rendered  unfit  for  the  world  and  worldly 
business.  It  is  just  a  state  that  renders  a  man  fit  for  these  things. 
When  you  have  been  excited  even  by  lower  influences,  when 
you  have  received  some  exhilarating  news,  when  some  good 
fortune  has  befallen  you  and  raised  your  spirits,  you  can  do  as 
much  work  in  a  day,  anJ  do  it  quite  as  easily,  as  ordinarily. 
You  know. that  the  effect  of  exaltation  springing  from  lower 
things  even  is  to  lighten  your  burden  in  life.  And  if  the  Di- 
vine Spirit  rests  on  your  mind  it  will  enable  you  to  carry  your- 
self a  great  deal  easier  through  the  trials  and  perplexities  of 
your  worldly  experience  than  you  otherwise  could. 

But  we  are  like  ducks — we  have  wings,  but  we  never  fly. 
We  go  walking  clumsily  along  the  land,  one  side  at  a  time,  day 
by  day.  We  are  made  capable  of  soaring,  with  all  the  prom- 
ises and  pledges  that  God  Almighty  can  utter;  but  we  creep, 
we  walk,  we  stumble,  we  fall  behind.  We  are  weak  like  other 
men.  We  are,  at  times,  of  all  men  most  miserable;  burdened 
with  conscience,  darkened   in   reason,  worried  and  fretted  in 


900  RELIGIO  US  BEPAR  TMENT. 

affection,  full  of  yearnings  unfulfilled  and  desires  unsatisfied, 
tempest-tossed,  and  not  comforted;  and  yet  all  the  while  there 
is  a  provision  in  nature  and  grace  for  lifting  us  out  of  these 
things  and  making  us — what?     Children  of  light. 

Can  you  imagine  a  bird  to  fly  so  high  that  to  it  the  sun  never 
sets?  Night  is  only  the  shadow  of  the  earth,  and  can  ypu  not 
imagine  a  bird  to  be  lifted  so  high  that  no  darkness  and  no  night 
comes  upon  it,  and  it  is  a  child  of  light?  It  is  because  we  live 
so  low  that  we  do  not  find  our  Christian  experience  to  be  what 
our  imagination  pictured  it. 

Blessed  are  they  with  whom  is  this  secret  of  God.  Blessed 
are  they  to  whom  is  fulfilled  the  promise  of  God  that  he  will 
hide  them  in  his  pavilion  until  the  storm  is  overpast.  And 
when  you  live  as  seeing  him  every  day  and  every  hour,  just  as 
if  he  were  joresent  before  you;  when  you  live  with  a  full  reli- 
ance that  heaven,  and  not  earth,  is  your  true  home;  when  you 
live  so  that  you  can  say  sincerely,  "All  the  things  I  seek  here 
are  not  wc  rthy  to  be  compared  with  the  joy  I  have  laid  up  for 
me  there;  there  my  mind  rests,  there  my  treasure  is,  and  there 
is  my  heart  also;"  when  you  come  into  that  state  in  which  the 
power  of  the  world  to  come  is  stronger  on  you  than  the  power 
of  the  world  that  now  is — then  you  will  have  this  peace,  and, 
out  of  it  and  with  it,  this  exaltation;  and  man  cannot  hurt  you. 
the  devil  cannot  overcome  you,  the  world  cannot  seduce  nor 
circumvent  you.  God  will  be  for  you,  and  who  can  be  against 
you? 

€nbmibs  Shai^ing  IJands. 

"Brotherly  kindness"  is  one  of  the  eight  cardinal  Christian 
graces.  The  softening  power  of  the  Divine  Spirit  can  create 
it  between  hearts  that  mutually  hate. 

The  scene  of  such  a  melting — a  scene  full  of  holy  and  tender 
inspiration  for  all  who  witnessed  it — is  described  by  a  clergy- 
man who  was  preaching  at  the  time  in  a  town  in  Virginia. 

It  was  a  region  of  small  reputation  for  sobriety  and  godliness. 
So  far  from  "  following  peace,"  and  copying  the  mind  of  the 
Master,  many  of  the  professed  Christians  were  not  on  speaking 
terms  with  each  other. 

The  minister  was  a  stranger,  and  knew  nothing  of  these  per- 
sonal differences,  but  his  theme  on  this  occasion  was,  "The  duty 


ENEMIES  SHAKING  HANDS.  901 

of  a  forgiving  spirit."  He  was  faithful,  speaking  the  truth  in 
love.  He  showed  them  how  necessary  it  was,  if  they  wanted 
the  blessing  from  Heaven,  that  all  old  hostilities  should  be  swept 
away,  and  that  they  should  have  united  hearts.  He  pictured 
what  the  certain  effect  would  be  if  they  yielded  up  every  selfish 
feeling  for  Christ's  sake,  and  for  the  one  wish  that  he  might 
come  to  them;  and  he  told  such  apt  instances  to  prove  it,  and 
pleaded  with  such  moving  words,  that  his  congregation  listened 
with  evident  emotion. 

Suddenly  a  woman,  past  middle  life,  rose  from  her  seat, 
crossed  the  audience-room  directly  in  front  of  the  minister,  and 
gave  her  hand  to  another  woman,  who  grasped  it  and  burst 
into  tears. 

"God  bless  you! "  she  sobbed,  "  we  are  too  old  to  quarrel  any 
more." 

That  ended  the  sermon.  The  application  had  begun  sooner 
than  the  preacheT  expected.  A  wave  of  audible  feeling  passed 
through  the  assembly  that  was  like  the  sound  of  wings.  Many 
w^ho  themselves  had  sins  of  resentment  and  unkindness  to  re- 
pent of  looked  on  and  trembled,  and  some  of  them  wept. 

One  stern-faced  elder  reached  his  arm  over  three  benches, 
and  said  in  a  broken  voice,  "  Neighbor  Aikin,  here's  my  hand! " 
and  a  feud  of  years'  standing  was  settled  forever.  Then  an- 
other, a  gray-haired  man,  made  his  way  to  a  distant  part  of  the 
house,  where  sat  his  old  enemy  with  face  already  bathed  in 
tears.     He  returned  the  greeting  with  eager  joy. 

"  O! "  he  exclaimed,  "  I  have  long  been  wishing  for  just  this — 
just  this." 

Unworthy  woishipers,  who  had  come  to  the  house  of  prayer 
with  hearts  and  minds  at  variance,  parted  with  acts  of  forgive- 
ness and  affection. 

A  great  reformation  began  in  the  community,  and  over  all 
that  once  wicked  neighborhood  there  came  a  change  that  hon- 
ored God's  grace  and  made  the  people  glad. 

It  is  a  shame  for  a  rich  Christian  man  to  be  like  a  Christmas- 
box  that  receives  all,  and  nothing  can  be  got  out  till  it  is  broken 
in  pieces;  or  like  unto  a  drowning  man's  hand,  that  holds  what- 
soever it  gets. 

That  is  always  best  for  us  which  is  best  for  our  souls. 


902  RELIGIOUS  DEPARTMENT. 

ft 

It  is  said  that  China  had  Nestorian  missionaries  as  early  as 

the  seventh  century,  and  French  missionaries  as  early  as  the 

twelfth   century.      Protestant   missionaries  were   only  sent  to 

China  in  1807.     Asia  and  Africa  are  merely  skirted  with  a  line 

of  missionary  pickets.     In  Africa  the  heroic  age  of  missions 

has  just  begun  to  dawn.     But  how  much  land  remains  to  be 

possessed! 

We  see  it  stated  that  there  is  not  a  single  Sunday  newspaper 
published  in  Canada.  If  this  be  so.  not  a  man,  woman,  or  child 
in  that  country  loses  any  thing  because  God's  law  is  thus  hon- 
ored. Perhaps  some  of  our  leading"  dailies  will  initiate  a  re- 
form in  this  matter  in  these  United  States.  When  they  do  so, 
•  let  Christian  men  be  ready  to  give  them  a  practical  support. 

The  world  is  gi'owing  better  and  worse — better,  iji  that  the 
number  of  good  men  is  greater  than  ever  before;  worse,  in  that 
bad  men  who  persist  in  evil  in  the  blaze  of  so  much  light  are 
growing  worse.  But  the  good,  rooted  in  God,  holds  its  gains; 
the  evil  is  weak  because  it  is  evil.  This  world  will  be  brought 
up  into  the  light  and  joy  of  the  Lord. 

Our  religion  sets  before  us  not  the  example  of  a  stupid  stoic 
who  had  by  obstinate  principles  hardened  himself  against  all 
sense  of  pain  beyond  the  common  measures  of  humanity,  but 
an  example  of  a  man  like  ourselves,  that  had  a  tender  sense  of 
the  least  suffering,  yet  patiently  endured  the  greatest. 

God  and  the  good  angels  know  the  vast,  the  incalculable  in- 
fluence that  goes  out  into  the  universe  of  spirit,  and  thence 
flows  into  the  universe  of  matter,  from  the  conquered  evil  and 
the  voiceless  prayer  of  one  solitary  soul.  Wouldst  thou  bring 
the  world  to  God?     Then  live  near  to  him  thyself. 

One  of  the  tendencies  of  our  times  is  to  reckon  that  service 
alone  of  much  consequence  which  is  conspicuous.  The  result 
of  this  is  that  there  is  a  constant  straining  to  do  exceptional 
things,  while  slighting  common  and  every-day  duties. 

Christians  differ  as  to  theories  and  methods  of  moral  reform. 
But  they  all  agree  that  the  gospel  of  Jesus  Christ  is  the  power 
of  God  unto  salvation.  Give  it  to  the  dying  millions  of  this 
land  and  all  lands. 


THE  POWER  OF  SONG.  903 

©HE  ^owEF?  OP  Song. 

In  one  of  the  hospitals  of  Edinliurgh  lay  a  wounded  Scotch 
soldier.  The  surgeons  had  done  all  they  could  for  him.  He 
had  been  told  that  he  must  die.  He  had  a  contempt  for  death, 
and  prided  "himself  on  his  fearlessness  in  facing  it. 

A  rough  and  wicked  life,  with  none  but  evil  associates,  had 
blunted  his  sensibilities,  and  made  profanity  and  scorn  his  sec- 
ond nature.  To  hear  him  speak  one  would  have  thought  he 
had  no  piously-nurtured  childhood  to  remember,  and  that  he 
had  never  looked  upon  religion  but  to  despise  it.  But  it  was 
not  so.  A  noble  and  gentle-hearted  man  came  to  see  the  dying 
soldier.  He  addressed  him  with  kind  inquiries,  talked  to  him 
tenderly  of  the  life  beyond  death,  and  offered  spiritual  counsel. 
But  the  sick  man  paid  him  no  attention  or  respect.  He  bluntly 
told  him  he  did  not  want  any  religious  conversation. 

"You  will  let  me  pray  with  you,  will  you  not?"  said  the  man 
at  length. 

"  No;  I  know  how  to  die  without  the  help  of  religion."  And 
he  turned  his  face  to  the  wall. 

Further  conversation  could  do  no  good,  and  the  man  did  not 
attempt  it.  But  he  was  not  discouraged.  After  a  moment's 
silence  he  began  to  sing  the  old  hymn,  so  familiar  and  so  dear 
to  every  congregation  in  Scotland: 

"  O  mother  dear,  Jerusalem, 

When  shall  I  come  to  thee?" 

He  had  a  pleasant  voice,  and  the  words  and  melody  were 
sweet  and  touching  as  he  sung  them.  Pretty  soon  the  soldier 
turned  his  face  aga'in,  but  its  hardened  expression  was  all  gone. 

"Who  taught  you  that?"  he  asked,  when  the  hymn  was  done. 

"My  mother." 

"So  did  mine.  I  learned  it  of  her  when  I  was  a  child,  and 
I  used  to  sing  it  with  her."  And  there  were  tears  in  the  man's 
eyes. 

The  ice  was  thawed  away.  It  was  easy  to  talk  with  him 
now.  The  words  of  Jesus  entered  in  where  the  hymn  had 
opened  the  door.  Weeping,  and  with  a  hungry  heart,  he  list- 
ened to  the  Christian's  thoughts  of  death,  and  in  his  la^t  mo- 
ments turned  to  his  mother's  God  and  the  sinner's  Friend. 


904  liELIGIOUS  DEPARTMENT. 

It  is  among  the  most  potent  of  the  energies  of  sin  that  it 
leads  astray  by  blinding,  and  blinds  by  leading  astray;  that  the 
soul  of  man,  like  the  strong  champion  of  Israel,  must  have  its 
*'  eyes  put  out "  when  it  would  be  "  bound  with  fetters  of  brass," 
and  condemned  "to  grind  in  the  prison-house." 

Figures  showing  the  growth  of  Christianity  since  its  early 
stages  have  been  compiled,  and  are  as  follows:  Day  of  Pente- 
cost, 3,000;  end  of  first  century,  500,000;  reign  of  Constantine, 
10,000,000;  eighth  century,  30,000,000;  Reformation,  100,000,- 
000;  in  1883,  450,000,000. 

I  have  heard  a  brother  pray  a  wearisome  while,  and  I  believe 
he  was  long  because  he  had  nothing  to  say.  A  horse  can  run 
many  miles  if  he  has  nothing  to  carry.  Long  prayers  often 
mean  wind  and  empti^ness.  The  Lord  be  with  you  and  in  you 
to  the  full. — Spurgeon. 

Any  candid  person  must  admit  upon  reflection  that,  so  far  as 
material  comforts  are  concerned,  the  Creator  has  done  nothing 
for  man  that  he  has  not  done  for  ants  and  monkeys,  except  to 
give  him  not  only  the  desire  but  also  the  capacity  for  endless 
improvement. 

The  turning-point  in  every  man'^  religious  experience  is  not 
when  he  says,  "I  believe,"  but  when  he  says,  "I  will."  A  man 
is  not  a  Christian  in  proportion  to  the  amount  of  truth  he  puts 
in  his  creed,  but  in  proportion  to  the  amount  of  truth  he  puts 
into  his  life. 

Christian  faith  is  a  grand  cathedral  with  divinely-pictured 
windows.  Standing  without,  you  see  no  glory,  nor  can  possi- 
bly imagine  any;  standing  within,  every  ray  of  light  reveals  a 
harmony  of  unspeakable  splendor. 

When  Benjamin  Parsons  was  dying  a  friend  asked  him, 
"How  are  you  to-day?"  He  answered,  "My  head  is  resting 
very  sweetly  on  three  pillows — Infinite  Powei",  Infinite  Love, 
and  Infinite  Wisdom." 

The  happiness  of  your  life  depends  upon  the  quality  of  your 
thoughts;  therefore  guard  accordingly,  and  take  care  that  you 
entertain  no  notion  unsuitable  to  virtue  and  uni^easonable  to 
nature. 


STAND.  905 

So-day  and  ©o-mof^i^ow. 


BY  LOUISE  HEY  WOOD  REYNOLDS. 


To-morrow  is  like  the  rainbow  which,  in  our  childhood,  we 
thought  we  could  touch  by  simply  running  a  short  distance, 
but  which,  to  our  dismay,  we  found  to  recede  as  rapidly  as  we 
advanced;  or  like  the  horizon,  which  we  imagined  our  steps 
could  easily  reach,  and  we  be  able  to  touch  the  sunset  glory 
gilding  it.  To-morrow  we  never  see.  To-day  we  hold  in  a 
strong  grasp.  Use  it  ere  it  pass  away.  Time  whirls  rapidly 
on.  All  the  to-morrows  will  be  to-days,  then  yesterdays,  and 
pass  quickly  far  away  into  the  past  till  centuries  hide  them  from 
the  living.  Time  is  for  us  to  use.  If  we  waste  it,  anticipating 
future  good  or  future  ill,  we  lose  to-day  and  all  the  days  as  they 
go  on,  till  our  last  day  will  find  us  barren  and  unlovely. 

Stand. 

When  you  can  do  no  more,  stand!  "  Having  done  all  things, 
stand."  But  beware  how  and  where  you  stand.  "  Stand  fast 
in  faith."  Stand  on  covenant  ground.  Stand  with  face  to  foe. 
Stand  watching,  waiting,  victorious.  "  Stand  still  and  see  the 
salvation  of  God."  Stand  not  in  your  caprice,  or  by  human 
order.  Even  though  Red  Sea  barriers  lie  across  your  way,  it 
may  be  the  will  of  God  that  you  go  forward  without  a  halt. 

It  is  easier  to  march  than  to  stand.  It  is  easier  to  rush  for- 
"ward  to  the  charge  than  to  stand  still  and  receive  the  fiery  as- 
sault. The  good  soldier  must  be  ready  for  both.  They  serve 
well  who  march  and  fight  for  their  king.  But  they  "  also  serve 
well  who  only  stand  and  wait."  Patience  and  fortitude  are  pre- 
cious in  the  sight  of  God,  and  "  to  obey  is  better  than  sacrifice." 
Where  patience  can  have  her  perfect  work,  whether  in  stress 
and  strain  of  conflict,  or  in  trial  of  waiting,  there  it  is  good 
to  be. 

A  religion  giving  dark  views,  and  infusing  superstitious  fear 
of  innocent  enjoyment,  instead  of  aiding  sober  habits,  will, 
by  making  men  abject  and  sad,  impair  their  moral  force,  and 
prepare  them  for  intemperance  as  a  refuge  from  depression  or 
despair. 


906  RELIGIO  US  DEPAR  TMENT. 

High  on  the  desert  mountain,  full  descried,  still  sits  throned 
the  tempter,  with  his  old  promise — the  kingdoms  of  this  world 
and  the  glory  of  them.  He  still  calls  you  to  your  labor,  as 
Christ  to  your  rest;  labor  and  sorrow,  base  desires,  and  evil 
hope. 

Trust  Him  when  you  cannot  trace  Him.  Do  not  try  to  pen- 
etrate the  cloud  which  He  brings  over  you,  and  to  look  through 
it.  Rather  keep  your  eye  fixed  steadily  on  the  bow  that  is  on 
the  cloud.     The  mystery  is  God's — the  promise  is  yours. 

It  was  said  of  McCheyne  that  "it  was  awakening  to  hear 
him  pray,"  and  of  the  missionary  Schauffle  that  "the  j^eople 
flocked  to  be  present  when  he  conducted  family  prayers." 

As  in  the  sun's  eclipse  we  can  behold  the  great  stars  shining 
in  the  heavens,  so  in  this  life  echpse  have  these  men  beheld  the 
lights  of  the  great  eternity,  burning  solemnly  and  forever. 

He  had  prayed  before,  "Quicken  me  in  thy  righteousness; "^ 
but  here,  "  Quicken  me  after  thy  loving-kindness."  The  surest 
token  of  God's  good-will  toward  us  is  his  good  work  in  us. 

Not  to  fear  death  is  a  slight  to  Him  who  made  it  our  special 
pimishment.  Not  to  desire  death  is  an  indifference  to  Him 
v^hom  we  can  only  reach  by  passing  through  it. 

How  easy  is  the  thought,  in  certain  moods,  of  the  loveliest, 
most  unselfish  devotion!  How  hard  is  the  doing  of  the  thought 
in  the  face  of  a  thousand  difficulties! 

A  spiritual  mind  has  something  of  the  nature  of  the  sensitive 
plant,  "  I  shall  smart  if  I  touch  this  or  that."  There  is  a  holy 
shrinking  away  from  evil. 

The  boy  doing  the  Father's  business  at  twelve  did  the  Father's 
loftier  business  at  thirty,  because  he  did  the  Father's  lowlier 
business  at  twelve. 

To  be  with  the  Church  in  the  wilderness,  like  Joshua,  is  far 
better  than  to  be  a  come-outer,  like  Lot  in  Sodom. 

Success  doesn't  "happen."  It  is  organized,  pre-empted,  cap- 
tured by  "consecrated  common  sense." 

Life  will  not  explain  itself  without  eternity. 


_  JEgAL  *  DEPARTMENT. 

©OMMON   liAW. 


BY  W.  W.  BREESE. 


o. 


HERE  is  a  force  above  and  beyond  that 
which  archives  hold  or  codes  embrace  that 
binds  all  nations,  and  societies,  and  men 
into  one  common  relationship  which  can- 
not be  broken.  It  is  an  eternal  sentiment  deep  in  the 
heart  of  humanity,  and  so  interwoven  into  its  very 
soul  that  it  ever  tends  to  lift  its  aspirations  toward 
the  good,  the  true.  This  common  law,  which  tells 
man  that  it  is  wrong  to  take  his  brother's  life,  inex- 
pressibly mean  to  desecrate  his  altars,  fiendish  to 
pollute  with  the  foul  breath  of  covetousness  the  sweet 
aroma  filling  his  household's  sacred  fanes,  and  ignoble 
not  to  place  his  body  at  the  gate  of  his  country  for 
its  defense,  is  the  heritage  of  all.  It  is  eternal — the 
same  in  the  age  of  gold  as  in  the  age  of  darkness. 
Not  one  thing  in  America,  another  in  Anam.  It  is 
not  written,  neither  can  be,  for  it  is  immortal,  and 
dwells  aloft  in  the  Temple  of  Justice,  where  it  is  the 
divinity  of  its  inmost  shrines;  its  dictates  descend 
among  men,  but  this  common  law  itself  cannot  de- 
scend.     Whoso  would    hold    communion  with    her 

(907) 


<)08  LEGAL  DEPARTMENT. 

must  climb  far  up,  and  often  wait  a  season  before  he 
can  even  hear  the  rustlings  of  her  skirts,  or  enter  into 
the  solemnities. 

That  is  not  law  which  poHticians  frame  and  set  up 
for  man  to  fall  down  and  worship,  designed  to  raise 
one  class  of  people  against  another,  or  to  protect  one 
section  or  one  nation  selfishly  against  all  other  sec- 
tions or  nations.  No,  that,  indeed,  has  not  one  senti- 
ment of  true  law. 

That  is  not  law  which  does  not  come  from  the 
heart  of  humanity,  and  makes  the  voice  of  the  people 
in  truth  the  voice  of  God — not  the  voice  of  one  State 
•or  of  one  nation,  but  that  of  the  great  people. 

All  nations  clamor  for  order  and  peace.  The  mis- 
erably-clad being  on  the  steppes  of  Asia,  shivering 
over  his  little  blaze,  around  which  he  sets  up  his 
household  gods,  has  sentiments  in  common  with  him 
who  walks  in  the  tangle-wood  of  Caledonia,  or  beats 
■deep  into  the  forests  of  the  West.  He  knows  that  it 
is  wrong  not  to  find  sustenance  for  his  family,  and  feels 
it  to  be  a  crime  to  kill  his  fellow.  'He  also,  as  we, 
punishes  him  who  offends  purity  and  scofts  at  chastity. 
The  nomadic  tribes  of  the  desert  have  laws  which 
regulate  their  movements  and  protect  their  own 
rights.  They  have  a  chief  executive^  as  the  enlight- 
ened races  of  the  world  do.  True,  some  tribes  have 
fallen  so  far  from  their  former  grandeur  that  for  a 
moment  it  might  seem  that  this  "  common,  universal 
law"  had  flaws  and  wind-holes  that  politicians  could 
see  and  fasten  their  pole-hooks  into  and  pull  it  to 
nothings.  Yet,  stay  with  these  tribes  a  little  longer, 
and  soon  you  will  catch  a  glimpse  of  the  principle; 
and    hid  away  in  their  souls — black,  ugly,  and  foul 


COMMON  LAW.  90» 

they  may  be — you  will  find  the  precious  gem — the 
"  higher  law,"  the  common  law  to  man — which  only 
wants  a  little  polish  to  make  it  shine  as  of  former 
times. 

When  Captain  Cook  visited  the  Fiji  Islands  the 
natives  would  not  allow  him  to  see  them  eat  humai. 
flesh.  Does  this  not  prove  the  universality  of  the 
common  law  of  man's  knowing  that  it  is  wrong  to 
murder.  So  with  the  other  general  principles  of  law. 
They  are  universal  and  common,  making  right  and 
justice  obligatory  upon  all  men,  in  every  land,  in  every 
clime.  Hence  that  is  defeating  the  natural  design  of 
law  which  does  not  gain  its  power  from  the  consent 
of  the  governed,  and  which  is  not  the  desire  of  the 
people  crystallized.  The  desire  of  whole  people  may 
be  wrong?  Not  so.  It  is  always  for  their  good,  for 
the  great  soul  of  Nature,  in  which  all  true  law  exists,, 
prompts  this  desire.  Good  for  the  greatest  number 
and  harm  to  the  fewest  is  the  rock  upon  which  every 
temple  of  justice  has  its  foundation.  All  not  built 
on  this  are  but  castles  in  mid-air,  shaflowed  with  cloud- 
mists,  and  are  mockeries. 

That  this  principle  is  true  it  is  an  impossibility  to 
deny,  for  it  is  reasonable,  as  the  history  of  all  peoples, 
from  "the  time  whereof  the  memory  of  man  runneth 
not  to  the  contrar}'"  till  even  now,  proves  to  the 
honest  mind;  and  "  right  reason  is  a  true  law,  agreeable 
to  nature,  universal,  invariable,  eternal,  which  invites 
men  to  duty  by  precepts  and  deters  them  from  iniq- 
uity by  prohibitions,  and  which  never  commands  or 
prohibits  the  virtuous  in  vain,  though  the  wicked  are 
unmoved  by  its  menaces  or  injunctions. 

"Of  this  law,  common  to  all  humanity,  nothing  can 


910  LEGAL  DEPARTMENT. 

be  changed  or  altered,  nor  can  the  whole  or  any  part 
of  it  be  repealed  or  canceled. 

"  No  authority,  either  of  the  Senate  oi;  the  people, 
can  release  men  from  its  obligations.  It  is  so  plain 
as  to  need  no  commentator  or  interpreter;  nor  is  it 
one  law  at  Rome  and  another  at  Athens;  one  at  this 
time,  another  hereafter;  but  the  same  eternal  and  im- 
mortal law,  common  to  all,  must  bind  all  nations  of 
all  ages — under  the  control  of  one  presiding  and  di- 
recting power,  even  God  himself,  by  whom  this  law 
was  contrived,  adjusted,  and  established;  to  which 
whoever  refuses  obedience  must  fly  from  himself  and 
cast  off"  the  nature  of  a  man — and  this  he  cannot  do 
without  suffering  the  severest  tortures,  though  he  es- 
cape those  punishments  common  to  offended  law." 

It  is  simple,  and  every  one  with  a  balanced  miiid 
can  interpret  it.  Wherever  this  law  has  been  tram- 
pled upon,  disease  and  punishment  have  been  the  re- 
sults. 

That  law  is  false,  and  unworthy  of  the  name  of 
law,  which  does  jiot  discriminate.  The  man  who, 
from  destitution  and  want,  commits  a  theft  often  re- 
ceives the  same  punishment  with  some  w^hitewashed 
villain  who  has  steeped  his  hands  in  the  gore  of  his 
fellow.  These  things  are  tolerated.  They  are  not 
law,  though  their  guilty  authors  may  label  them  as 
such. 

True  law  is  justice  to  all,  partiality  to  none.  It 
is  the  foe  of  tyranny  and  the  protector  of  the  weak. 
That  the  common  law  has  been  degraded  by  placing 
false  conceptions  upon  it  there  is  no  doubt,  still  the 
underlying  principle  is  ever  the  same,  and  it  has  been 
this  principle  that  has  bound  man  to  man  in  mutual 


COMMON  LAW.  911 

bonds.  Without  it  society  would  be  worse  than  a 
failure.  Ever  as  the  earth  has  moved  on  from  age 
to  age,  it  has  swayed  its  scepter  over  the  generations, 
and  it  has  been  the  lode-star  which  has  ever  tended 
to  lift  them  into  the  higher  and  purer  atmosphere  of 
a  nobler  civilization. 

All  advancement,  political  and  moral,  when  based 
upon  the  true  principles  of  this  common  law,  will 
stand  the  test  of  time.  Others  may  spring  up  and 
flourish  for  a  season,  but  they  are  poisonous  plants 
which  fill  the  air  for  only  a  little  while  with  their 
pestiferous  exhalations.  The  searching  rays  of  truth 
soon  wilt  them,  and  they  are  dead. 

The  nations  of  the  past  are  strong  proofs.  When 
Greece  departed  from  the  true  law,  and  based  her 
civic  institutions  upon  false  principles,  the  keystones 
of  her  temple  of  justice  became  unstable,  and  the 
entire  structure  fell.  So  soon  as  a  Roman  matron 
could  walk  by  the  temple  wherein  chastity  dwelt  and 
scoff  at  it,  from  that  day  canker  and  disease  set  in  to 
do  their  work  on  Rome's  powerful  State.  France, 
also,  is  an  example  of  the  effect  of  unnatural  laws. 

The  common  law  is  but  a  part  of  the  great  whole 
universe,  and  it  always  has  a  vigor  and  freshness,  as 
if  damp  with  the  dew  of  creation's  earliest  dawn. 
Strong  old  Saxons  were  governed  by  it,  as  also  the 
"  child  of  nature  "  on  the  Western  plains. 

"Of  law  there  can  be  no  less  acknowledgment 
than  that  her  seat  is  the  bosom  of  God,  her  voice  the 
harmony  of  the  world.  All  things  in  heaven  and 
earth  do  her  homage,  the  very  least  as  feeling  her 
care,  and  the  greatest  as  not  exempt  from  her 
power." 


912  LEGAL  DEPARTMENT. 

A  receipt  is  the  written  acknowledgment  of  the  payment 
of  a  debt.  All  business  men  preserve  receipts  carefully,  that 
they  may  be  able  to  show  payment  if,  by  any  chance,  the  bill  is. 
presented  a  second  time. 

A  receipt  in  full  will  prevent  a  suit  for  the  recovery  of  all 
debts  except  those  by  account;  but  a  receipt  for  the  payment 
of  an  account  is  not  valid  unless  the  whole  amount  of  the  debt 
is  paid.  If,  by  agreement,  a  part  only  is  paid,  and  a  receipt  in 
full  is  given,  the  creditor  may  sue  for  the  balance  that  remains 
unpaid.  The  receipt  so  given  is  valid  only  for  the  amount  act- 
ually paid. 

This  rule  of  law  dates  back  to  the  time  of  Queen  Elizabeth. 
It  is  a  just  rule,  for  every  man  who  can  ought  to  pay  his  debts 
in  full.  Some  exceptions,  however,  are  made  where,  from  the 
circumstances  of  the  case,  it  is  just  to  modify  it. 

A  receipt  in  full  of  an  account,  of  which  the  amount  is  un- 
settled, is  binding,  though  the  debt  proves  larger  than  was  ex- 
pected. Disputed  accounts  may  be  settled  by  part  payment,, 
for  the  law  says  that  the  amount  so  paid  was  all  that  was  act- 
ually due.  Part  payment  of  a  note  will  release  the  debtor,  if 
he  takes  a  receipt  in  full,  for  this  rule  applies  only  to  accounts. 

When  a  creditor  receives  a  partial  payment  from  a  friend  or 
relation  of  the  debtor,  a  receipt  in  full  will  be  binding  upon 
him.  If  he  takes  goods  or  merchandise  for  a  part  of  the  debt,, 
and  gives  a  receipt  in  full,  he  cannot  sue  for  the  remainder,  for 
the  law  says  that  he  took  the  goods  on  speculation,  and  must 
stand  to  his  bargain. 

When  a  creditor  takes  a  note  for  a  pai^t  of  his  bill,  and  gives 
a  receipt  for  the  whole,  he  can  only  recover  the  amount  of  the 
note.  Also,  a  part  payment  made  before  the  account  is  due,  or 
in  some  place  other  than  that  in  which  it  should  be  paid,  will 
cancel  the  debt  if  a  receipt  in  full  is  given.  It  was  a  favor  to 
the  creditor  to  pay  him  at  that  time  or  place,  and  his  receipt  is 
binding. 

If  a  man  is  unable  to  pay  his  debts  in  full,  and  his  creditors 
agree  to  take  a  part  in  place  of  the  whole,  they  are  bound  by 
their  receipts.  The  law  favors  compromises  of  this  nature^ 
since  they  prevent  law-suits. 


JURORS.  913 

Although  this  rule  sometimes  bears  hardly  on  honest  men, 
who  are  trying  to  pay  their  debts,  it  is  the  best  that  can  be  de- 
vrsed,  as  it  reaches  all  classes  of  men,  both  the  honest  and  the 
dishonest. 

When  a  seal  is  placed  upon  a  receipt  the  creditor  is  not  al- 
lowed to  claim  that  only  part  of  the  account  was  paid.  The 
law  regards  the  seal  as  decisive  evidence  that  the  whole  debt 
for  which  the  receipt  was  given  was  paid. 

In  the  case  of  receipts  there  is  a  curiosity  of  the  law.  It  is 
well  established  that,  when  a  written  contract  is  produced  in 
court,  it  cannot  be  altered  in  any  way  by  evidence  by  word  of 
mouth.  It  must  stand  or  fall  by  itself.  One  would  think  that 
a  receipt  would  be  governed  by  this  rule,  inasmuch  as  it  ac- 
knowledges in  writing  the  full  payment  of  a  debt.  This  being 
the  case,  how  can  a  creditor  come  into  court  and  show,  by  oral 
evidence,  that,  though  the  receipt  acknowledges  full  payment, 
only  a  portion  of  the  bill  was  really  paid?  To  avoid  this  diffi- 
culty the  law  creates  what  is  called  a  legal  fiction.  It  declares 
that  the  receipt  is  not  in  itself  a  contract,  though  it  has  most 
of  the  elements  of  one.  It  is  merely  evidence  of  an  oral  con- 
tract, by  which  the  creditor  agreed  to  take  a  portion  of  the 
debt  and  lelease  the  debtor.  Therefore  oral  evidence  of  the 
extent  of  the  payment  may  be  admitted,  for  though  a  written 
contract  cannot  be  altered  by  oral  evidence,  yet  the  meaning  of 
written  evidence  may  be  altered  by  oral  evidence. 

When  a  juror,  by  his  unfaithful  verdict,  has  allowed  the  guilty 
to  escape,  what  is  the  relation  of  that  juror  to  future  crimes 
committed  by  other  men  who  commit  lawless  deeds  because 
they  see  that  law  is  not  enforced?  The  unjust  escape  of  one 
murderer  may  prepare  the  way  for  many  other  murders.  Who 
is  responsible  for  these  murders?  Technically,  those  who  com- 
mitted them,  and  none  others,  except  joint  principals  and  acces- 
sories; morally,  all  who  had  any  hand  in  what  led  to  them. 
What  led  to  them?  The  fact  that  faithless  juries  make  it  possi- 
ble for  ci'ime  to  be  committed  with  impunity!  To  remove  the 
penalties  of  crime  is  to  encourage  crime,  and  to  encourage 
crime  is  to  commit  crime;  and  a  false  verdict,  in  case  of  crime, 
.58 


914  LEGAL  DEPARTMENT. 

is  the  neplus  ultra  of  all  crimes,  for  it  actually  gives  the  sanction 
of  law  to  that  which  law  sternly  condemns,  and  in  addition  it 
carries  perjury  with  it;  it  abolishes  moral  distinctions,  putting 
wrong  on  a  level  with  right;  it  inculcates  the  moral  code  of  the 
pit;  it  reverses  the  aims  both  of  justice  and  of  mercy;  with  the 
pretense  of  humanity  it  is  inhuman;  it  upturns  the  foundations 
of  the  whole  social  fabric;  it  contains  within  itself  the  seeds 
of  all  possible  vices. 

What  is  the  relation  of  a  faithless  juror  to  human  law?  He 
is  its  enemy;  he  emasculates  it;  he  commits  mayhem  on  it;  he 
deprives  it  of  its  power  of  defense;  nay,  he  makes  a  deadly 
assault  upon  it,  for  law  without  penalty  is  no  law;  he  stabs  it  to 
the  heart. 

What  is  his  relation  to  his  country?  He  is  a  traitor.  To  so- 
ciety? He  makes  war  upon  it.  To  murderers  and  other  felons? 
He  is  their  companion  in  guilt.  To  the  Evil  One?  He  is  his 
ally.     To  God?     We  leave  him  in  the  hands  of  his  Judge! 

IlEGAL   Br^BYITIBS. 

A  note  dated  on  Sunday  is  void.  A  note  obtained  by  fraud, 
or  from  one  intoxicated,  is  void.  If  a  note  be  lost  or  stolen,  it 
does  not  release  the  maker — he  must  pay  it.  An  indorser  of 
a  note  is  exempt  from  liability  if  not  served  with  notice  of  its 
dishonor  within  twenty-four  hours  of  its  non-payment.  A  note 
by  a  minor  is  void.  Notes  bear  interest  only  when  so  stated. 
Principals  are  responsible  for  their  agents.  Each  individual  in 
partnership  is  responsible  for  the  whole  amount  of  the  debts 
of  the  firm.  Ignorance  of  the  law  excuses  no  one.  It  is  a  fraud 
to  conceal  a  fraud.  It  is  illegal  to  compound  a  felony.  The 
law  compels  no  one  to  do  impossibilities.  An  agreement  with- 
out a  consideration  is  void.  Signatures  in  lead  pencil  are  good 
in  law.  A  receipt  for  money  is  not  legally  conclusive.  The 
acts  of  one  partner  bind  all  the  others.  Contracts  made  on 
Sunday  cannot  be  enforced.  A  contract  with  a  minor  is  void. 
A  contract  made  with  a  lunatic  is  void.  Written  contracts  con- 
cerning land  must  be  under  seal. 

Ignorance  of  the  law  excuses  no  man;  not  that  all  men  know 
the  law,  but  because  it  is  an  excuse  every  man  will  plead,  and 
no  man  can  tell  how  to  confute  him. 


AHBITHATIONS.  915 

fll^BITI^ATIONS. 

The  submission  of  any  question  concerning  the  rights  of  per- 
sons or  personal  property,  by  parties  in  dispute,  to  the  decision 
of  one  or  more  disinterested  individuals,  mutually  agreed  on, 
instead  of  taking  the  controversy  before  a  court  of  law,  is  called 
an  arbitration. 

Both  parties  may  have  sufficient  confidence  in  some  one  per- 
son to  abide  by  his  single  decision.  Usually,  however,  each 
party  selects  one  individual,  and  the  two  thus  appointed  choose 
a  third  one,  who  is  called  the  umpire,  to  assist  them  in  forming 
their  judgment.  In  such  a  case  the  decision  is  made  either  by 
all  agreeing,  or  the  agreement  of  two  against  the  other,  as  may 
be  provided  in  the  submission. 

The  parties  engaged  in  determining  disputes  in  this  manner 
are  known  as  arbitrators. 

The  decision  of  the  arbitrators  is  called  an  award. 

Arbitrations,  and  their  determination  of  cases,  are  sometimes 
regulated  by  the  laws  of  the  State  in  which  they  occur. 

Arbitrations  are  not  always  voluntary  on  the  part  of  the  per- 
sons in  dispute,  for  in  some  States  one  party  may  compel  the 
other  to  refer  the  case  to  arbitrators,  if  he  refuses  to  do  so.  This 
is  called  a  reference. 

The  courts  may  also  sometimes  order  a  disputed  case  to  be 
settled  in  this  manner,  with  the  consent  of  both  parties. 

A  party  cannot  be  compelled  to  agree  to  arbitrate,  nor  after 
he  has  signed  the  agreement  can  he,  as  a  general  rule,  be  com- 
pelled to  select  his  arbitrators*  nor  after  the  arbitrators  are  ap- 
pointed can  he  be  compelled  to  submit  his  side  of  the  case. 
But  after  a  valid  award  has  been  made  the  courts  will  enforce 
it.  Either  party  may  recall  his  submission  to  arbitration,  how- 
ever, at  any  time  before  the  award  is  written  out;  but  the  party 
who  thus  recalls  the  arbitration  is  responsible  for  all  the  costs 
and  damages  that  have  accrued  in  consequence  of  his  previous 
consent  to  submit  his  case  to  arbitrators. 

If  an  award  is  illegal,  unreasonable,  incapable  of  being  exe- 
cuted, or  indecisive  of  any  or  all  matters  submitted  to  the  arbi- 
trators, it  is  not  binding. 

Besides  the  agreement  to  submit  the  questions  in  dispute,  called 
a  submission,  the  parties  usually  execute  to  each  other,  with 


916  LEGAL  DEPARTMENT. 

sureties,  a  bond  to  abide  by  and  perform  the  award,  on  which 
also  a  suit  can  be  brought,  if  the  award  is  not  performed. 

Arbitrations  are  customary  in  disputes  relating  to  wages  for 
services,  current  accounts,  failures  to  fulfill  contracts,  partner- 
ships, annuities  in  lieu  of  dower  land  titles,  boundaries,  and 
trespasses. 

Awards  may  cover  the  payment  of  moneys,  the  fulfillment 
of  agreements,  the  delivery  of  goods  and  writings,  the  assign- 
ment of  mortgages  and  leases,  and  the  specific  conveyance  of 
land,  but  not  as  to  the  title  to  land. 

Bonds. 

A  bond  is  a  written  admission  of  an  obligation  on  the  part 
of  the  maker,  whereby  he  pledges  himself  to  pay  a  certain  sum 
of  money  to  another  person  or  persons,  at  a  certain  specified 
time,  for  some  I'eal  consideration. 

The  person  giving  the  bond  is  termed  the  obligor;  the  person 
receiving  the  same  is  called  the  obligee. 

A  bond,  as  defined  above,  is  a  single  bond;  but  generally 
conditions  are  added  to  the  bond,  whereby  the  person  giving 
the  same  must  perform  some  specific  act  or  acts,  in  which  case 
the  bond  becomes  void;  otherwise  it  remains  in  full  force  and 
effect. 

The  penalty  att{iched  to  the  bond  is  usually  sufiicient  to  cover 
debt,  interest,  and  costs,  being  generally  placed  at  a  sum  twice 
the  amount  of  the  real  debt,  the  fact  being  stated  that  such 
penalty  is  the  sum  fixed  upon  as  liquidated  or  settled  damages, 
in  event  of  failure  to  meet  payments  according  to  the  conditions 
of  the  bond. 

The  bond  may  be  so  drawn  as  to  have  the  penalty  attach  and 
appertain  to  either  the  obligor  or  obligee. 

Though,  under  ordinary  circumstances,  the  bond  is  in  full 
effect,  yet  an  act  of  Providence,  whereby  its  accomplishment 
is  rendered  impossible,  relieves  the  party  obligated  from  an  en- 
forcement of  the  penalty. 

Action  on  such  instrument  must  be  brought  within  twenty 
<years  after  right  of  action  accrues,  or  within  such  time  as  pro- 
.vided  by  the  statutes  of  the  different  States. 

No  child  can  be  apprenticed  beyond  his  twenty-first  birthday. 


BILLS  OF  SALE,  917 

FOI^MS  OP   flGI^BBMBNI'S  AND  ^ONiri^AGTS. 

An  agreement  is  virtually  a  contract  by  which  individuals, 
singly  or  collectively,  agree  to  perform  certain  duties  within  a 
specified  time. 

It  is  of  much  importauce,  in  all  matters  upon  which  may 
arise  a  difference  of  opinion  or  misunderstanding,  that  contracts 
be  reduced  very  explicitly  to  writing,  thereby  frequently  saving 
the  parties  to  the  contract  a  long  and  expensive  law-suit. 

Agreements  should  show  that  they  are  made  for  a  lawful 
consideration,  else  they  are  void  in  law. 

It  is  well  to  have  a  written  agreement  signed  by  a  witness, 
though  the  witness  need  not  know  the  contents  of  the  docu- 
ment. 

While  a  signature,  or  mark,  written  with  a  pencil,  if  proven 
by  witnesses,  is  good  in  law,  it  is  always  safest  to  execute  the 
contract  with  pen  and  ink. 

A  discovery  of  fraud,  or  misrepresentation  by  one  party  to 
the  agreement,  or  changing  of  the  date,  renders  the  contract 
void. 

Every  agreement  should  state  most  distinctly  the  time  within 
which  its  conditions  are  to  be  complied  with. 

Copies  of  an  agreement  should  always  be  prepared  in  dupli- 
cate, and  each  party  to  the  agreement  should  retain  a  copy. 

Bills  OP  Sale. 

Bills  of  sale  are  written  evidences  of  agreements  by  which 
parties  transfer  to  others,  for  a  consideration,  all  their  right, 
title,  and  interest  in  personal  property. 

The  ownership  of  personal  property,  in  law,  is  considered 
changed  by  the  delivery  of  such  property  to  the  purchaser; 
though  in  some  States,  without  delivery,  a  bill  of  sale  is  good 
evidence  of  ownership,  even  against  creditors,  provided  the  sale 
was  not  fraudulently  made  for  the  purpose  of  avoiding  the  pay- 
ment of  debts. 

Juries  have  power  to  determine  the  fairness  or  unfairness  of 
a  sale,  and  upon  evidence  of  fraud  such  bill  of  sale  will  be 
ignored  and  declared  void. 

Any  form  of  words,  importing  that  the  seller  transfers  to  the 
buyer  the  title  to  personal  property,  is'  a  bill  of  sale. 


918  legal  department.  ' 

Bail, 

The  word  bail,  in  law,  has  very  much  the  same  meaning  as 
"  guaranty,"  and  is  a  voucher  by  a  competent  person  or  per- 
sons that  another  person  will  perform  a  duty  required  by  the 
civil  authority. 

The  effect  of  such  a  voucher,  or  guaranty,  is  to  temporarily 
set  free,  liberate,  or  release  from  custody  a  person  or  persons 
charged  with  the  infraction  of  some  public  law. 

In  law,  such  a  guaranty  is  called  a  recognizance,  the  surety 
being  the  bailor,  and  the  prisoner  the  bailee. 

The  bailor  usually  engages,  under  the  penalty  of  paying  a 
certain  sum  of  money,  in  case  of  forfeiture,  that  the  bailee  will 
be  present  and  submit  himself  peaceably  to  the  court  whenever 
his  trial  or  examination  is  appointed,  and  patiently  abide  the 
issue  thereof. 

In  case  a  prisoner  who  has  been  bailed  out  of  custody  does 
not  appear  for  trial  at  the  time  specified  in  the  bail-bond,  the 
surety  forfeits  whatever  sum  is  thereby  pledged. 

Bail  in  civil  transactions  is  seldom  required.  Guaranty  Forms 
and  Letters  of  Credit  appear  to  have  supefseded  the  necessity 
and  practice  of  these  obligations. 

GUAI^DIANS  AND  ffllNOI^   ^HILiDI^BN. 

A  minor  is  a  person  under  twenty-one  years  of  age,  or,  in 
some  States,  a  maiden  under  eighteen  years  old.  In  England 
and  in  many  of  the  United  States  sex  makes  no  difference. 

The  legal  term  for  a  minor  is  "  infant."  The  legal  conse- 
quences of  infancy  are:  First,  inability  to  commit  crime  until 
of  a  certain  age;  secondly,  inability  to  consent  until  a  certain 
age;  third,  inability  to  make  a  contract  of  any  kind  except 
marriage;  and,  fourth,  inability  to  sue  or  be  sued,  except  by 
guardians. 

Infants  may  own  and  hold  all  kinds  of  property. 

Infants  should  have  guardians  of  their  persons  and  property. 

The  parents  are  the  guardians  of  the  person.  Courts  of  pro- 
bate appoint  suitable  persons  for  guardians  of  their  property. 
At  fourteen  the  infant  may  select  his  or  her  guardian  of  his  or 
her  property. 

Infants  whose  parents  are  unfit  to  be  guardians,  or  who  suffer 


LEASES.  •  919 

them  to  become  a  public  charge,  may  have  guardians  of  their 
persons  appointed  by  some  public  officer. 

The  parties  so  chosen  are  called  guardians,  and  the  infants 
wards. 

Thus  tht  guardians  of  the  person  must  supply  the  ward  with 
necessaries  and  instruction,  and  the  guardian  of  the  property 
must  preserve  it,  and  cannot  expend  it  or  change  it  from  real  to 
personal  property  without  the  order  of  the  court. 

The  laws  relating  to  the  rights  and  duties  of  guardians  vary 
in  different  States,  but  in  essential  particulars  resemble  each 
other. 

liBASES. 

A  person  leasing  real  estate  to  another  is  termed  a  landlord; 
the  person  occupying  such  real  estate  is  known  as  a  tenant. 
The  person  making  the  lease  is  known  in  law  as  the  lessor;  the 
person  to  whom  the  lease  is  made,  as  the  lessee.  No  particular 
form  of  wording  a  lease  is  necessary.  It  is  important,  how- 
ever, that  the  lease  state,  in  a  plain,  straightforward  manner, 
the  terms  and  conditions  of  the  agreement,  so  that  there  may 
be  no  misunderstanding  between  the  landlord  and  tenant. 

It  is  essential  that  the  lease  state  all  the  conditions,  as  addi- 
tional verbal  promises  avail  nothing  in  law.  It  is  held,  gener- 
ally, that  a  written  instrument  contains  the  details,  and  states 
the  bargain  entire,  as  the  contracting  parties  intended. 

The  tenant  can  sub-let  a  part,  or  ail,  of  his  premises,  unless 
pi-ohibited  by  the  terms  of  his  lease. 

A  lease  by  a  married  woman,  even  if  it  be  upon  her  own 
property,  at  common  law,  is  not  valid;  but,  by  recent  statutes, 
she,  in  many  States,  may  lease  her  own  property  and  have  full 
control  of  the  same;  neither  can  the  husband  effect  a  lease  that 
will  bind  her  after  his  death.  His  control  over  her  property 
continues  only  so  long  as  he  lives. 

Neither  a  guardian  nor  a  minor  can  give  a  lease,  extending 
beyond  the  ward's  majority,  which  can  be  enforced  by  the  les- 
see; yet  the  latter  is  bound  unless  the  lease  is  annulled. 

If  no  time  is  specified  in  a  lease,  it  is  generally  held  that  the 
lessee  can  retain  possession  of  the  real  estate  for  one  year.  A 
tenancy  at  will,  however,  may  be  terminated  in  the  Eastern 
States  by  giving  three  months'  notice  in  writing;  in  the  Middle 
and  Southern  States,  six  months;  and  in  the  Western  States, 


920  LEGAL  DEPARTMENT. 

one  month;  though  recetit  statutes,  in  some  States,  have  some- 
what modified  the  above. 

The  lease  that  specifies  a  term  of  years  without  giving  the 
definite  number  is  without  effect  at  the  expiration  of  two  years. 
A  lease  for  three  or  more  years,  being  acknowledged  and  re- 
corded in  the  recorder's  office,  is  an  effectual  bar  to  the  secret 
or  fraudulent  conveyance  of  such  leased  property;  and  it  fur- 
ther obviates  the  necessity  of  procuring  witnesses  to  authenti- 
cate the  validity  of  the  lease. 

Duplicate  copies  of  a  lease  should  always  be  made,  and  each 
party  should  retain  a  copy  of  the  same. 

A  new  lease  to  the  same  person  invalidates  an  old  one. 

A  lease  on  property  that  is  mortgaged  ceases  to  exist  when 
the  person  holding  such  mortgage  forecloses  the  same  if  it  is 
prior  to  the  lease. 

A  landlord,  consenting  to  take  a  substitute,  releases  the  first 
tenant. 

Where  there  is  nothing  but  a  verbal  agreement  the  tenancy 
is  understood  to  commence  at  time  of  taking  possession.  When 
there  is  no  time  specified  in  the  lease,  tenancy  is  regarded  as 
commencing  at  the  time  of  delivering  the  writings. 

If  it  is  understood  that  the  tenant  is  to  pay  the  taxQ^  on  the 
property  he  occupies,  such  fact  must  be  distinctly  stated  in  the 
lease,  as  a  verbal  promise  is  of  no  effect. 

0)B6HANIGS'  IlIBNS. 

Lien-laws  establish  a  right  to  retain  possession  of  personal 
property  until  the  payment  is  made  for  services  in  respect  to  it. 

A  lien  is  lost  by  the  voluntary  surrender  of  the  property  to 
the  owner  or  his  agent. 

There  is  no  common  law  lien  without  possession.  It  is  a 
right  created  by  law  in  favor  of  the  tavern-keepers,  livery-men, 
pasturers,  carriers,  and  mechanics.  It  may  be  created  by  con- 
tract between  the  parties,  as  in  a  lease. 

Whatever  is  affixed  to  land  belongs  to  the  owner  of  the  land, 
except  in  a  few  cases.  Hence,  carpenters  who  build  houses  on 
the  land  of  others  have  no  lien.  But  as  the' principle  is  just,  and 
the  practice  beneficial.  States  have,  by  law,  given  builders  and 
persons  who  furnish  material  a  lien  on  the  land  and  building,  if 
claimed  within  a  limited  time.     Under  this  kind  of  mechanics' 


PARTNERtiHIP.  921 

Hen,  no  possession  is  required.  The  right  to  pay  the  charge 
and  take  the  property  is  a  right  of  redemption  which  is  lost  by 
a  public  sale  of  the  property.  The  surplus,  if  any,  is  paid  to 
the  owner. 

Liens  by  State  law  are  generally  foreclosed  in  a  court,  upon 
a  petition  for  that  purpose.  By  its  decree  the  property  is  sold 
and  the  proceeds  divided  according  to  the  rights  of  the  parties. 

Liens  may,  in  certain  States,  be  enforced  against  vessels  and 
wharves  as  well  as  buildings,  for  construction,  alteration,  or  re- 
pairs. In  most  States,  while  the  same  general  principle  is  main- 
tained, the  modes  of  procedure  vary. 

A  workman  desiring  the  protection  of  the  law  for  the  security 
of  his  wages,  may  draw  up  a  paper  addressed  to  the  county  clerk 
of  the  county  where  the  work  was  done,  setting  forth  all  the  cir- 
cumstances of  the  work  done,  his  bargain  with  the  contractor, 
the  failure  to  receive  his  pay,  and  his  fears  that  he  will  lose  all  if 
his  lien  is  not  made.  This  paper,  sworn  to  before  a  justice  or 
notary  public  as  true,  is  filed  in  the  county  clerk's  office,  and 
becomes  a  cloud  upon  the  building,  which  the  owner  is  only 
too  glad  frequently  to  remove  by  paying  the  debt  himself  and 
taking  it  out  of  the  contractor's  bill.  In  either  event  the  owner 
or  contractor  must  pay  the  debt  if  it  is  an  honest  one. 

^AI^JPNEI^SHIP. 

An  agreement  between  two  or  more  persons  to  invest  their 
labor,  time,  and  means  together,  sharing  in  the  loss  or  profit 
that  may  arise  from  such  investment,  is  termed  a  partnership. 

This  partnership  may  consist  in  the  contribution  of  skill,  ex- 
tra labor,  or  acknowledged  reputation  upon  the  part  of  one  part- 
ner, while  the  other,  or  others,  contribute  money,  each  sharing 
equally  or  in  fixed  proportion  in  the  profits.  Or  an  equal 
amount  of  time,  labor,  and  money  may  be  invested  by  the  part- 
ners and  the  profits  equally  divided,  the  test  of  partnership 
being  the  joint  participation  in  profit  and  joint  liability  to  loss. 

A  partnership  formed  without  limitation  is  termed  a  general 
partnership.  An  agreement  entered  into  for  the  performance 
of  only  a  particular  work  is  termed  a  special  partnership,  while 
the  partner  putting  in  a  limited  amount  of  capital,  upon*  which 
he  raceives  a  corresponding  amount  of  profit  and  is  held  corre- 
spondingly responsible  for  the  contracts  of  the  firm,  is  termed 


922  LEGAL  LEPARTMENT. 

a  limited  partner.  The  conditions  of  such  a  partnership  are 
regulated  by  law  in  different  States. 

Negotiable  paper  of  the  firm,  even  though  given  on  private 
account  by  one  of  the  partners,  will  hold  all  the  partners  of  the 
firm  when  it  passes  into  the  hands  of  holders  who  were  igno- 
rant of  the  facts  attending  its  creation. 

Partnership  effects  may  be  bought  and  sold  by  a  partner;  he 
may  make  contracts;  may  receive  money;  indorse,  draw,  and 
accept  bills  and  notes;  and  while  this  may  be  for  his  own  pri- 
vate account,  if  it  apparently  be  for  the  use  of  the  firm,  his 
partners  will  be  bound  by  his  action,  provided  the  parties  deal- 
ing with  him  were  ignorant  of  the  transaction  being  on  his  pri- 
vate account;  and  thus  representation  or  misrepresentation  of  a 
partner  having  relation  to  business  of  the  firm  will  bind  the 
members  in  the  partnership. 

An  individual  lending  his  name  to  the  firm  as  partner,  or  al- 
lowing the  same  to  be  used  after  he  has  withdrawn  from  the 
same,  is  still  responsible  to  third  persons  as  a  partner. 

A  partnership  is  presumed  to  commence  at  the  time  articles 
of  co-partnership  are  drawn,  if  no  stipulation  is  made  to  the 
contrary,  and  the  same  can  be  discontinued  at  any  time,  imless 
a  specified  period  of  partnership  is  designated  in  the  agreement, 
and  even  then  he  ma}^  withdraw  by  giving  previous  notice  of 
such  withdrawal  from  the  same,  being  liable,  however,  in  dam- 
ages if  such  are  caused  by  his  withdrawal. 

Should  it  be  desired  that  the  executors  and  representatives 
of  the  partner  continue  the  business  in  the  event  of  his  death, 
it  should  be  so  specified  in  the  articles,  otherwise  the  partner- 
ship ceases  at  death.  Should  administrators  and  executors  con- 
tinue the  business  under  such  circumstances,  they  are  joersonally 
responsible  for  the  debts  contracted  by  the  firm. 

If  it  is  desired  that  a  majority  of  the  partners  in  a  firm  have 
the  privilege  of  closing  the  affairs  of  the  company,  or  in  any 
way  regulating  the  same,  such  fact  should  be  designated  in  the 
agreement,  otherwise  such  right  will  not  be  presumed. 

Partners  may  mutually  agree  to  dissolve  a  partnership,  or  a 
dissolution  may  be  effected  by  a  decree  of  ,a  court  of  equity. 
Dissohfte  conduct,  dishonesty,  habits  calculated  to  imperil  the 
business  of  a  firm,  incapacity,  or  the  necessity  of  partnership  no 
longer  continuing,  shall  be  deemed  sufficient  causes  to  invoke 


MORTGAGES.  923 

the  law  in  securing  a  dissolution  of  partnership  in  case  the 
same  cannot  be  effected  by  mutual  agreement. 

After  dissolution  of  certain  kinds  of  partnership,  notice  of 
the  same  should  be  given  in  the  most  public  newspapers,  and  a 
notice  likewise  should  be  sent  to  every  person  having  special 
dealings  with  the  firm.  These  precautions  not  being  taken, 
each  partner  continues  liable  for  the  acts  of  the  others  to  those 
persons  pecuniarily  interested  who  have  no  knowledge  of  the 
dissolution  and  have  had  previous  dealings  with  the  firm. 

fflOI^TGAGBS. 

The  law  defines  a  mortgage  as  a  conveyance  of  property, 
personal  or  real,  given  to  secure  the  payment  of  a  debt,  or  as 
a  guaranty  for  the  performance  of  some  special  duty.  As  soon 
as  the  debt  is  paid,  or  the  duty  is  performed,  the  mortgage  is 
void  and  of  no  value. 

The  meaning  of  the  word  mortgage  is  a  "  dead  pledge,"  be- 
cause the  property  pledged  becomes  lost  or  dead  to  the  person 
who  executed  the  mortgage  if  he  fails  to  fulfill  the  conditions 
necessary  to  prevent  such  loss. 

The  party  who  mortgages  his  property  is  called  the  mortgage- 
or,  and  the  person  to  whom  the  mortgage  is  given  is  the  mort- 
gagee. 

Where  real  estate  is  mortgaged,  unless  otherwise  provided, 
the  mortgageor  retains  possession  of  the  property  and  receives 
its  rents  and  other  profits,  paying  all  taxes,  insurance,  repairs, 
and  liens  upon  it. 

In  case  real  estate  is  pledged  the  mortgage  must  be  properly 
acknowledged,  like  a  deed,  before  a  notary  public  or  other  legal 
officer. 

Personal  property  may  pass  into  possession  of  the  mortgagee, 
if  such  is  the  contract,  or  the  mortgageor  may  continue  to  hold 
and  use  it  if  it  is  so  agreed. 

Mortgages  must  be  •in  writing,  contain  a  redemption  clause, 
be  signed  and  sealed  by  the  mortgageor,  properly  witnessed,  and 
recorded  in  the  office  of  the'county  clerk  or  of  the  register  of 
deeds  as  State  laws  may  require.  , 

The  times  of  the  payment  of  the  interest  and  of  the  princi- 
pal sum  must  be  distinctly  stated  in  the  mortgage,  and  the  prop- 
erty carefully  described,  with  its  location. 


924  LEGAL  DEPARTMENT. 

A  mortgage  may  contain  a  clause  permitting  the  sale  of  the 
property,  if  forfeited,  without  the  decree  of  the  court  or  other- 
wise, as  the  several  State  laws  may  determine,  or  by  agreement 
of  the  pai"ties. 

A  mortgage  may  be  drawn  so  that  a  single  failure  to  pay  the 
interest  at  the  stated  time  may  render  due  the  whole  sum,  prin- 
cipal and  interest,  and  permit  the  mortgagee  to  sell  the  jorop- 
erty  upon  taking  the  necessary  legal  steps,  long  before  the  date 
of  its  maturity. 

The  foreclosure  of  a  mortgage  is  a  legal  declaration  that  the 
property  has  been  forfeited  and  must  be  sold. 

A  mortgage  may  be  assigned  by  the  mortgagee  to  some  other 
person  for  a  valuable  consideration. 

If  a  mortgage  is  given  to  secure  the  payment  of  a  certain 
note,  the  note  must  be  transferred  to  the  party  to  whom  the 
mortgage  is  assigned. 

When  forfeited  property  is  sold  upon  a  mortgage,  should  it 
bring  more  money  than  is  necessary  to  pay  the  debt,  interest, 
costs,  and  charges,  the  surplus  funds  must  be  paid  to  the  mort- 
gageor  or  his  representatives. 

Patents  are  granted  in  the  United  States  giving  the  exclu- 
sive right  to  the  inventor,  his  heirs,  and  assigns,  to  make,  use, 
and  sell  the  invention  or  discoveiy  throughout  the  United 
States  and  the  Territories  thereof  for  a  term  of  seventeen 
years. 

Before  any  inventor  or  discoverer  can  receive  a  patent  he 
must  make  a  written  application  for  it,  addressed  to  the  com- 
missioner of  patents,  and  file  in  the  patent-office  a  written  de- 
scription of  his  invention  or  discovery,  giving  details  of  its  va- 
rious parts,  the  materials  u£ed,  how  constructed  or  compounded, 
the  manner  of  operating  it,  and  the  results  proposed  to  be  ac- 
complished by  its  use — all  exj^ressed  in  such  full,  clear,  concise, 
and  exact  language  that  any  person  ftxmiliar  with  the  art  or  sci- 
ence which  the  invention  is  designed  to  benefit  or  illustrate, 
•  may  be  enabled  to  make,  construct,  compound,  and  use  it.  If 
it  is  a  machine,  the  principle  on  which  it  performs  its  work 
must  be  explained,  as  well  as  the  best  methods  of  applying  it 
to  the  objects  of  the  invention.     This  is  required  to  distinguish 


WILLS.  925 

it  from  otlicr  machines.  Everjt  part,  improvement,  or  combi- 
nation of  the  invention  whicli  the  appHcunt  claims  as  original 
with  himself  must  be  particularly  pointed  out. 

The  specifications  must  be  signed  by  the  i«ventor  and  be  at- 
tested by  two  witnesses. 

When  the  character  of  the  application  requires  drawings  of 
machinery,  or  parts  thereof,  the  applicant  must  furnish  one 
copy  of  each  drawing,  signed  by  the  inventor  or  his  attorney 
in  fact,  with  two  witnesses.  This  copy  is  filed  in  the  patent- 
office,  and  the  government  officials  attach  another  copy  to  the 
patent  as  a  part  of  the  specifications. 

If  the  article  to  be  patented  is  compounded  of  several  ingre- 
dients, specimens  of  the  materials  used  in  making  it,  and  of  the 
whole  composition,  must  be  forwarded  with  the  application  in 
such  quantities  that  experiments  can  be  made  according  to  the 
specifications  by  the  official  examiners. 

Where  a  machine  for  which  a  patent  is  asked  can  be  illus- 
trated by  a  working  model  thereof,  the  commissioner  may  re- 
quire the  applicant  to  furnish  such  model  in  order  to  show  how 
all  parts  of  the  invention  are  to  be  oi^erated.  The  model  must 
not  exceed  one  square  foot  in  size. 

An  applicant  for  a  patent-right  must  swear  (or  affirm)  that  he 
is,  or  believes  himself  to  be,  the  first  or  original  inventor  or  dis- 
coverer of  the  art,  machine,  manufacture,  composition,  or  im- 
provement which  he  desires  to  patent;  that  he  does  not  know, 
and  does  not  believe,  that  the  same  was  ever  before  known  or 
used,  and  must  tell  of  what  country  he  is  a  citizen.  This  affi- 
davit may  be  made  before  any  person  authorized  to  administer 
oaths  in  the  United  States;  or,  if  the  applicant  is  a  resident  of 
a  foreign  government,  he  may  take  this  oath  before  an  Ameri- 
can minister,  consul,  or  a  notary  public  of  the  foreign  country 
where  he  resides.    • 

% 

The  legal  declaration  of  what  a  person  determines  to  have 
done  with  his  property  after  death  is  termed  a  will. 

All  persons  of  lawful  age,  possessed  of  sound  mind,  except- 
ing married  women  in  certain  States,  are  entitled  to  dispose  of 
their  property  by  will. 

No  exact  form  of  words  is  necessary  to  make  a  will  good  at 


926  LEGAL  DEPARTMENT. 

law,  though  much  care  should  be  exercised  to  state  the  provis- 
ions of  the  will  so  plainly  that  its  language  may  not  be  misun- 
derstood. 

The  person  making  the  will  is  termed  the  testator  (if  a  female, 
testatrix). 

A  will  is  of  no  force  and  effect  until  the  death  of  the  testator, 
and  can  be  canceled  or  modified  at  any  date  by  the  maker. 

The  last  will  made  annuls  the  force  of  all  preceding  wills,  if 
not  an  addition  to  them. 

The  law  regards  marriage,  and  offspring  resulting,  as  good 
evidence  of  revocation  of  a  will  made  prior  to  such  marriage, 
unless  the  wife  and  children  are  provided  for  by  the  husband 
in  some  other  manner,  in  which  case  the  will  remains  in  full 
force. 

To  convey  real  estate  by  will,  it  must  be  done  in  accordance 
with  the  law  of  the  State  or  country  where  such  land  is  located ; 
but  personal  property  is  conveyed  in  harmony  with  the  law  that 
obtains  at  the  place  of  the  testator's  residence. 

There  are  two  kinds  of  wills,  namely,  written  and  verbal,  or 
nuncupative.  The  latter,  or  spoken  wills,  depending  upon 
proof  of  persons  hearing  the  same,  generally  relate  to  personal 
property  only,  and  are  not  recognized  in  all  the  States  unless 
made  within  ten  days  previous  to  the  death,  or  by  persons  in 
the  military  or  naval  service.  Verbal  or  unwritten  wills  are 
usually  unsafe,  and,  even  when  well  authenticated,  often  make 
expensive  litigation;  hence  the  necessity  of  having  the  wishes 
of  the  testator  fully  and  clearly  defined  in  a  written  will. 

To  give  or  make  a  devise  of  property  by  will  and  subsequently 
dispose  of  the  same,  without  altering  the  will  to  conform  to 
such  sale,  destroys  the  validity  of  the  devise. 

A  will  made  by  an  unmarried  woman  is  legally  revoked  by 
marriage;  but  she  can  take  such  legal  steps  in  the  settlement 
of  her  property  before  mai'riage  as  will  empower  her  to  dispose 
of  the  same  as  she  may  choose  after  marriage. 

No  husband  can  make  a  will  that  will  deprive  the  wife  of 
her  right  of  dower  in  the  property;  that  is,  her  right  to  the  pro- 
ceeds of  one-third  of  the  real  estate  and  appurtenances,  as  long 
as  she  may  live.  But  the  husband  can  will  the  wife  a  certain 
amount  in  lieu  of  her  dower,  stating  it  to  be  in  lieu  thereof. 
Such  bequest,  however,  will  not  exclude  her  from  her  dower, 


WILLS.    «  927 

provided  she  prefers  it  to  the  bequest  made  in  the  will.  Unless 
the  husband  states  distinctly  that  the  bequest  is  in  lieu  of  dower, 
she  is  entitled  to  both. 

Property  bequeathed  must  pay  debts  and  incumbrances  upon 
the  same  before  its  distribution  can  be  made  to  the  legatees  of 
the  estate. 

Though  property  may  be  willed  to  a  corporation,  the  corpora- 
tion cannot  accept  such  gift  unless  provision  is  made  for  so  do- 
ing in  its  charter. 

A  will  may  be  revoked  by  marriage,  a  codicil,  destruction  of 
the  will,  disposing  of  property  devised  in  a  will,  or  by  the  exe- 
cution of  another  will. 

The  person  making  a  will  may  appoint  his  executors,  but  no 
person  can  serve  as  such  executor  if,  at  the  time  of  the  proving 
of  the  will,  he  be  under  twenty-one  years  of  age,  a  convict,  a 
thoroughly  confirmed  drunkard,  a  lunatic,  or  an  imbecile.  No 
person  appointed  as  an  executor  is  obliged  to  serve,  but  may 
renounce  his  appointment  by  legal  written  notice  signed  before 
two  witnesses,  which  notice  must  be  recorded  by  the  officer 
before  whom  the  will  is  proved. 

The  person  named  in  the  will  by  the  testator  to  administer 
the  same  is  termed  an  executor.  The  individual  appointed  by 
a  court  is  known  as  an  administrator.  The  duties  of  each,  in 
the  settlement  of  an  estate,  are  essentially  the  same. 

In  case  a  married  woman  possesses  property,  and  dies  with- 
out a  will,  her  husband  is  entitled  to  administer  upon  such  prop- 
erty in  preference  to  any  one  else,  provided  he  be  of  sound 
mind. 

Any  devise  of  property  made  to  a  subscribing  witness  is  in- 
valid, although  the  integrity  of  the  will  in  other  respects  is  not 
affected. 

In  all  wills  the  testator's  full  name  should  be  written  at  the 
end  of  the  will.  If  he  be  unable  to  write,  he  may  have  his 
hand  guided  in  making  a  mark  against  the  same.  If  he  pos- 
sesses a  sound  mind,  and  is  conscious  at  the  time  of  the  import 
of  his  action,  such  mark  renders  the  will  valid. 

Witnesses  should  always  write  their  respective  places  of  res- 
idence after  their  names,  their  signatures  being  written  in  the 
presence  of  each  other,  and  in  the  presence  of  the  testator. 

Different  States  require  a  different  number  of  witnesses.    To 


928  LEGAL  DEPARTMENT. 

illustrate:  Missouri,  Illinois,  Ohio,  Kentucky,  North  Carolina, 
Tennessee,  Iowa,  Utah,  Texas,  California,  New  Jersey,  Dela- 
ware, Indiana,  Virginia,  Oregon,  Minnesota,  Michigan,  Wiscon- 
sin, Rhode  Island,  Louisiana,  and  New  York  require  two  wit- 
nesses. 

The  States  of  Florida,  Mississippi,  Maryland,  Georgia,  South 
Carolina,  Massachusetts,  Connecticut,  Maine,  New  Hampshire, 
and  Vermont  demand  three  witnesses  to  authenticate  a  will. 

Witnesses  are  not  required  to  know  the  contents  of  a  will. 
They  have  simply  to  know  that  the  document  is  a  will,  and 
witness  the  signing  of  the  same  by  the  testator,  or  he  to  witness 
their  signing. 

Proof  of  signature  of  the  testator  by  the  oath  of  two  reputa- 
ble witnesses,  is  sufficient  to  establish  the  validity  of  a  will  in 
the  State  of  Pennsylvania — no  subscribing  witnesses  being  ab- 
solutely demanded. 

An  addition  to  a  will,  which  should  be  in  writing,  is  termed 
a  codicil,  and  executed  like  a  will. 

A  codicil  is  designed  to  explain,  modify,  or  change  former 
bequests  made  in  the  body  of  the  will.  It  should  be  done  with 
the  same  care  and  precision  as  was  exercised  in  the  making  of 
the  will  itself. 

Indian  r)UNTiNG-LAW. 

They  have  no  very  decisive  regulations  in  most  of  the  affairs 
of  life,  except  their  hunting-laws,  which  are  executed  with 
much  rigor.  Their  rule  is  to  keep  together  in  a  line.  The  man 
who  pushes  forward  of  the  company  and  frightens  the  game, 
to  the  detriment  of  themselves  and  of  their  wives  and  children 
at  home,  is  punished  severely.  They  beat  him  with  sticks  and 
clubs,  cut  his  clothes  to  pieces,  break  his  weapons,  tear  down 
his  hut,  and  kill  his  horses  and  dogs.  And  in  this  respect  their 
chiefs  and  greatest  braves  fare  as  bad  as  those  in  the  humblest 
ranks  of  life. 

We  thus  find  the  marks  of  a  republican  government  in  the 
New  World,  even  amongst  these  uncontaminated  aboriginals. 
May  all  who  breathe  its  air  inhale  the  true  spirit  of  equal 
rights! 

Notes  obtained  by  fraud,  or  given  by  an  intoxicated  person, 
cannot  be  collected. 


LIABILITY  IN  PARTNERSHIP.  929 

IXIABILITY   IN    ^AI^IPNEI^SHIP. 

Is  it  prudent  to  form  a  copartnership  with  a  man  in  embar- 
rassed circumstances? 

The  rules  of  hiw  in  regard  to  the  liability  of  partnership 
property  for  the  private  debts  of  partners  are  as  yet  somewhat 
obscure  and  uncertain,  yet  it  is  certain  that  creditors  of  individ- 
ual partners,  if  they  choose,  may  often  cause  great  embarrass- 
ment to  the  partnership  affairs,  and. probably  compel  a  dissolu- 
tion. 

"The  partnership  property,"  says  Justice  Story,  "may  be 
taken  in  execution  upon  a  separate  judgment  and  execution 
against  one  partner;  but  the  sheriff  can  only  seize  and  sell  the 
interest  and  right  of  the  judgment  partner  therein,  subject  to 
the  prior  rights  and  liens  of  the  other  partners  and  the  joint 
creditors  therein.  By  such  seizure  the  sheriff  acquires  a  special 
property  in  the  goods  seized;  and  the  judgment  creditor  him- 
self may,  and  the  sheriff  also,  with  the  consent  of  the  judgment 
creditor,  may  file  a  bill  against  the  other  partners  for  the  ascer- 
tainment of  the  quantity  of  that  interest  before  any  sale  is  act- 
ually made  under  the  execution.  The  judgment  creditor,  how- 
ever, is  not  bound  if  he  does  not  choose  to  wait  until  such 
interest  is  so  ascertained,  but  he  may  require  the  sheriff  imme- 
diately to  proceed  to  a  sal6,  which  order  the  sheriff  is  bound  by 
law  to  obey.  In  the  event  of  a  sale  the  purchaser  at  the  sale  is 
substituted  to  the  rights  of  the  execution  party,  quoad  the  prop- 
erty sold,  and  becomes  a  tenant  in  common  thereof;  and  he 
may  file  a  bill,  or  a  bill  may  be  filed  against  him  by  the  other 
partners,  to  ascertain  the  quantity  of  interest  which  he  has  ac- 
quired by  the  sale."  The  purchaser  thus  acquires  all  the  rights 
the  insolvent  partner  had  in  the  property,  but  he  is  not  bound 
to  become  a  partner,  nor  are  the  others  bound  to  admit  him; 
therefore  the  effect  of  such  sale  is  to  dissolve  the  partnership. 

Hence  Justice  Story  further  remarks:  "It  is  a  strange  anom- 
aly in  jurisprudence  that  third  persons  should  be  entitled  to  dis- 
solve the  solemn  bona  fide  contracts  of  partners  at  their  own 
caprice  and  pleasure,  however  ruinous  may  be  the  effects  to  in- 
nocent partners;  for*  the  partnership  may  thus  be  dissolved  in 
the  midst  of  the  most  successful  adventure,  and  thus  irrepara- 
ble losses  may  ensue  therefrom.  However,  this  is  not  a  pecul- 
59 


930  LEGAL  DEPARTMENT. 

iar  feature  of  the  common  law;  for  it  is  found  equally  recog- 
nized in  the  Roman  law,  at  least  where  all  the  effects  of  the 
partner  are  sold  to  his  creditors." 

IxAWS  OP  Sale  an.d  ^onti^agiii. 

Every  merchant  should  know  what  are  the  provisions  of  the 
law  in  his  country  or  State  governing  sales  of  personal  prop- 
erty, commonly  called  the  Statute  of  Frauds.  Nearly  every 
State  in  the  American  Union  has  substantially  re-enacted  the 
seventeenth  section  of  the  celebrated  English  statute  passed 
during  the  reign  of  Charles  II.,  for  the  prevention  of  frauds 
and  perjuries,  and  which  declares  that  "  no  contract  for  the  sale 
of  any  goods,  wares,  and  merchandises  for  the  price  of  £.10 
sterling,  or  upwards,  shall  be  allowed  to  be  good,  except  the 
buyer  shall  accept  part  of  the  goods  so  sold^  and  actually  receive 
the  same,  or  give  something  in  earnest  to  bind  the  bargain,  or 
in  part  of  payment,  or  that  some  note  or  memorandum  in  writ- 
ing of  the  said  bargain  be  made  and  signed  by  the  parties  to 
be  charged  by  such  contract,  or  their  agents  thereunto  lawfully 
authorized."  The  fourth  section  also  enacts,  among  other 
things,  that  no  contract  of  guaranty  or  suretyship  "  shall  be  good 
unless  it  be  in  writing."  Shares  in  railroads  and  manufacturing 
companies  are  held  to  be  "  goods,  wares,  or  merchandises  "  by 
American  law,  and  an  agreement  for  their  purchase  and  sale 
must  be  in  writing,  although  it  is  held  otherwise  in  England. 

The  Statute  of  Limitations  is  ^Iso  a  law  with  which  every 
one  who  sells  goods  on  credit  should  be  familiar.  In  the  col- 
lection of  debts  the  use  of  legal  diligence  is  always  favored, 
and  shall  never  turn  to  the  disadvantage  of  the  creditor.  In 
order  to  enforce  diligence  and  punish  negligence  in  suing 
claims,  statutes  have  been  passed  prescribing  a  time  within 
which  actions  must  be  brought.  These  are  known  as  the  Stat- 
utes of  Limitations.  The  law  considers  that  debtors  ought  not 
to  be  obliged  to  take  care  forever  of  the  acquittances  which 
prove  a  demand  to  be  satisfied,  and  it  is  proper  to  limit  a  time 
beyond  which  they  shall  not  be  under  the  necessity  of  produc- 
ing them,  or  in  familiar  phrase,  after  whfch  claims  are  "out- 
lawed." Strictly,  debts  are  never  "  outlawed,"  as  many  sup- 
pose— that  is,  if  the  debtor  do  not  jjlead  the  Statute  of  Limita- 


£AWS  OF  SALE  AND  CONTRACT.  931 

tions,  a  judgment  can  be  obtained  and  execution  issued  on  an 
old  debt  as  well  as  on  a  recent  one. 

In  the  United  States  each  State  has  its  own  Statute  of  Lim- 
itations, differing  generally  from  that  of  its  sister  States,  and 
therefore  we  can  only  advise  the  reader  to  be  vigilant  always 
in  the  collections  of  his  claims,  or  ''keep  posted"  as  to  the 
Statute  of  Limitations  of  the  States  where  his  debtors  reside. 

As  a  general  rule,  the  law  of  the  place  where  the  contract 
was  made  or  is  to  be  performed  governs  the  sale  of  personal 
property  and  of  real  estate  where  the  land  is  located.  Thus,  if 
a  merchant  in  Philadelphia  makes  an  offer  to  a  factor  in  New 
Orleans  for  the  purchase  of  cotton,  and  it  is  accepted  there,  the 
law  of  Louisiana  will  prevail  in  the  construction  of  that  con- 
tract. So,  if  a  merchant  of  Philadelphia  orders  goods  from  a 
manufacturer  in  England,  the  law  of  Great  Britain  will  deter- 
mine the  construction,  force,  and  effect  of  whatever  questions 
may  arise  under  that  contract.  A  contract  which  is  valid  where 
it  is  made  is  valid  every-where,  and  a  contract  which  is  not 
valid  where  it  is  made  is  not  valid  anywhere.  This  is  a  princi- 
ple of  considerable  importance  in  a  coimtry  composed  of  more 
than  thirty-seven  separate  States  having  different  laws,  and 
which  are  for  most  commercial  purposes  regarded  by  the  law 
as  foreign  to  each  other  as  England  and  France. 

While,  however,  the  law  of  the  place  {lex  loci)  governs*  the 
construction  and  validity  of  every  contract  for  the  sale  of  per- 
sonal property,  the  remedies  for  a  breach  of -the  contract  must 
be  regulated  according  to  the  law  of  the  place  where  the  action 
is  instituted;  hence  the  Statute  of  Limitations  in  whose  courts 
a  suit  is  instituted  prevails  in  all  actions. 

The  law  presumes  that  every  buyer  and  seller  of  merchandise 
understands  the  customs  or  established  usages  of  his  trade  and 
the  meaning  of  technical  words  peculiar  to  that  trade.  Thus, 
in  a  suit  on  a  policy  of  insurance  in  England,  evidence  of  cus- 
tom was  allowed  to  show  that  "rice"'  was  considered  as  "corn," 
and  in  another  case  that  "good"  barley  was  not  "fine"  barley. 
Where  a  custom  is  well  established  and  widely  known  it  is  pre- 
sumed that  every  merchant  knows  it,  and  each  party  to  a  con- 
tract has  the  right  to  think  that  the  other  acted  with  reference 
to  it.  The  test  question  is  where  words  are  used  that  have  a 
technical  meaning  different  from  their  common  meaning,  must 


932  LEGAL  DEPARTMENT. 

both  parties,  or  ought  both  parties  to  have  used  the  words  in 
their  technical  sense,  and  had  each  good  reason  to  beheve  that 
the  other  so  used  them? 

LxBTItBI^S   OP    (©I^BDIT. 

When  appHcation  is  iriade  to  a  merchant  to  sell  goods  on 
credit,  on  the  faith  of  a  letter  of  guaranty  from  a  third  person 
known  to  him  as  responsible,  what  precautions  must  be  taken 
to  render  the  guaranty  available? 

He  must  see  that  the  promise  is  expressed  in  plain  and  un- 
ambiguous words,  for  a  surety  is  never  bound  beyond  the  pre- 
cise scope  of  his  undertaking,  and  that  in  case  of  loss  it  is  safe 
to  assume  he  will  seek  every  loop-hole  or  flaw  in  his  engage- 
ment by  which  he  may  evade  responsibility.  He  must  see  that 
the  letter,  if  addressed  at  all,  is  addressed  correctly  to  him  or 
his  firm,  for  it  was  decided  that  where  James  &  Joseph  N.  fur- 
nished goods  on  a  letter  of  guaranty  addressed  to  James  &  Jer- 
emiah N.,  the  guarantor  was  not  liable,  though  manifestly  the 
letter  was  intended  for  them;  and  so  where  B  furnished  goods 
on  letter  of  guaranty  addressed  to  B  &  Co.,  that  firm  having 
dissolved  their  copartnership,  it  was  held  that  the  guarantor  was 
not  liable  to  B.  A  merchant  who  furnishes  goods  on  the  faith 
of  a  letter  of  credit  should  also  give  the  guarantor  notice  that 
he  litis  done  so  that  he  may  know  "when,  and  to  whom,  and  to 
what  extent  he  is  bound;  and  consequently  he  may  be  able  to 
watch  over  the  debtor  for  whom  he  engages,  and  in  season  de- 
mand such  counter  securities  as  may  be  useful  to  him."  When 
the  merchant  receives  a  letter  of  guaranty  signed  by  a  firm,  he 
should  examine  closely  before  parting  with  property  on  the 
faith  in  it,  and  see  whether  it  comes  within  the  scope  of  their 
partnership  business  to  give  such  a  guaranty,  for  "if  the  act  of 
one  partner  do  not  concern  the  partnership  business,  or  be  not 
in  the  usual  course  of  their  trade,  though  made  in  the  name  of 
the  firm,  it  will  not  be  binding  on  the  other  partners,  except  by 
their  express  or  implied  consent." 

In  England,  and  in  most  of  the  American  States,  the  statute 
to  prevent  frauds  provides  that  no  action  can  be  brought  upon 
any  special  promise  to  answer  for  the  debts  of  another  person 
unless  there  is  some  memorandum  in  writing  signed  by  the 
;party  to  be  charged,  and  consequently  a  promise  of  guaranty, 


PKOMISSO R  Y  NO TES.  933 

except  it  be  in  writing,  is  invalid.  A  merchant  who  furnishes 
goods  under  such  circumstances,  and  has  neglected  to  have  the 
guaranty  reduced  to  writing,  had  better  charge  the  goods  di- 
rectly to  the  guarantor  on  his  books  of  entry,  for  if  he  charge 
the  party  for  whose  use  they  were  obtained,  or  if  he  charge 
them  bpth,  the  guarantor  will  not  be  liable. 

I^I^OMISSOI^Y    nOTES. 

The  essential  legal  requisites  of  a  promissory  note  are  that  it 
must  be  in  writing,  the  promise  to  pay  must  be  expressed,  it 
must  be  for  the  payment  of  money  and  money  only  (not  horses 
nor  merchandise),  the  amount  must  be  fixed  and  certain,  and 
payable,  without  condition  or  contingency,  at  a  fixed  period  of 
time,  or  upon  some  event  which  must  inevitably  happen. 
Where  no  time  or  period  of  payment  is  fixed  it  is  a  note  paya- 
ble on  demand,  and  as  such  requires  no  other  demand  than  by 
bringing  suit.  A  note  payable  to  a  fictitious  person  is  a  note 
payable  to  bearer. 

When  the  date  has  been  omitted,  and  it  is  important  to  estab- 
lish one,  the  time  will  be  computed  from  the  day  when  it  was 
issued  or  made,  and  if  that  cannot  be  ascertained  with  exact- 
ness, from  the  day  when  its  existence  can  first  be  established. 
Where  the  sum  in  figures  in  the  superscription  differs  from  the 
sum  in  words  in  the  body  of  the  instrument,  the  latter  is  by 
our  law  deemed  the  true  sum. 

The  signer  of  a  note  is  called  the  maker,  the  one  to  whom 
the  promise  is  made  is  called  the  payee,  and  when  he  writes  his 
name  on  the  back  or  face  of  the  note  he  becomes  an  indorser. 

The  law  assumes  that  a  valuable  consideration  was  given  for 
a  bill  or  note,  and  though  the  maker  of  a  note  may  escape  pay- 
ment when  sued  by  a  payee,  on  the  ground  of  failure  of  con- 
sideration, yet  the  law  compels  him  to  prove  thei'e  was  no  con- 
sideration. It  allows  bills  and  notes  to  be  assigned  when  payment 
is  directed  to  be  made  to  the  payee,  or  his  order,  or  to  bearer,  by 
the  latter  writing  his  name  on  the  back  of  the  instrument,  and 
when  properly  transferred  the  holder  can  sue  and  recover  in  his 
own  name;  and  further,  such  assignment,  when  made  before 
maturity,  and  in  the  usual  course  of  business  and  for  a  valuable 
consideration,  gives  the  assignee  a  better  title  than  his  assignor 
had.     Any  defense  or  set-oft'  which  the  maker  of  the  note  may 


934'  LEGAL  DEPARTMENT. 

have  had  against  the  payee  is  not  available  against  a  third  per- 
son, a  bona  fide  holder,  without  notice.  The  law,  however,  fixes 
a  grave  responsibility  upon  a  person  who  transfers  a  note  or 
bill  payable  to  bearer  or  order,  by  writing  his  name  on  the  back 
of  it.  A  man  may  write  his  name  on  the  back  of  a  bond  or  an 
assignment  of  a  book-debt,  and  he  guarantees  nothing  more  than 
it  is  due  and  the  title  is  good;  but  a  man  who  assigns  a  bill,  or 
negotiates  a  note  by  putting  his  name  on  it,  unless  he  qualifies 
the  act  by  words  limiting  his  responsibility  as  "  without  recourse 
on  me,"  engages  that  he  will  pay  it  if  the  proper  party  does 
not,  251'ovided  the  holder  demands  payment  and  gives  him  due 
notice  of  default.  He  becomes  itn  indorser — a  word  of  omi- 
nous import  to  thousands  whose  fortunes  have  been  wrecked 
by  unguarded  indofsements. 

Only  a  note  or  bill  payable  to  a  certain  person  or  order  is  in 
the  law-merchant,  and,  strictly  speaking,  subject  to  indorsement. 
The  words  "or  order"  is  the  negotiable  element  which  trans- 
fers the  original  promise  to  the  indorsee  of  any  number  of  in- 
dorsers.  Each  indorser,  by  his  indorsement,  does  two  things — 
first,  he  orders  the  antecedent  parties  to  pay  to  his  indorsee,  and 
secondly,  he  engages  with  his  indorsee  that  if  they  do  not  pay 
he  will. 

It  is  usually  said  there  are  but  two  forms  of  indorsement — an 
indorsement  in  blank,  which  is  simply  writing  the  name  on  the 
back  or  face  of  a  note  (which  makes  it  transferable  as  if  it  had 
been  originally  payable  to  bearer),  and  an  indorsement  in  full, 
as  "pay  to  A  B  or  order,"  and  then  the  note  cannot  be  trans- 
ferred except  by  A  B's  indorsements.  There  is,  however,  an- 
other form  of  indorsement  sometimes  used,  which  may  be  called 
a  special  indorsement,  as  "pay  to  A  B  only;"  then  A  B  is  in- 
dorsee, but  cannot  indorse  it  over.  This  is  often  done  for  se- 
curity— that  is,  to  guard  against  the  loss  of  the  note  by  accident 
or  theft.  It  is  the  opinion  of  some  law  writers  that  our  railroad 
and  corporation  bonds,  and  all  instruments  payable  to  bearer, 
may  bef  protected  by  special  indorsement,  so  that  if  lost  the 
finder  will  not  acquire  any  property  in  them  which  he  can 
transfer  to  others;  but  at  the  same  time  it  must  be  remembered 
that  every  indorsement  or  signature  on  a  coupon  bond  lessens 
its  salable  viilue  in  the  market. 

An  instrument  of  writing  in  the  form  of  a  promissory  note 


NOTARIES  PUBLIC.  936 

having  a  seal  attached  is  no  longer,  in  the  eyes  of  the  law,  a 
promissory  note,  and  has  none  of  the  peculiar  privileges  with 
which  the  law  invests  mercantile  paper.  Whatever  may  be  its 
form,  if  it  have  a  seal  it  is  a  specialty  and  not  a  negotiable  note, 
and  consequently  an  indorsement  in  blank  on  the  back  of  it 
does  not  make  the  indorser  liable  as  such,  and  it  is  also  subject, 
in  the  hands  of  the  holder,  to  whatever  defenses  the  maker 
may  have  against  the  original  payee,  though  he  may  have  pur- 
chased it  in  the  market  before  it  was  due  for  a  valuable  consid- 
eration and  without  notice. 

The  States  composing  the  United  States  are,  so  far  as  re- 
spects mercantile  paper,  foreign  countries  to  each  other,  and  in 
some  of  them  special  laws  require  that  a  foreign  bill  of  ex- 
change shall  be  protested  for  non-acceptance,  and  notice  given; 
in  others  this  is  held  to  be  unnecessary.  But  the  safe  rule  to 
follow  is,  in  all  cases,  to  protest  for  non-acceptance  and  give 
notice  promptly  to  the  drawer  and  indorsers. 

€XPI^BSS  AND   FjAILI^OAD  (COMPANIES. 

Can  a  carrier  relieve  himself  from  liability  for  loss  by  giving 
notice  that  he  will  not  be  responsible  for  accidents,  or  only  to 
a  certain  extent.'' 

It  is  well  settled  that  a  carrier  can,  by  express  agreement 
with  the  senders  of  goods,  relieve  himself  from  liability  for 
their  accidental  loss  or  injury,  but  whether  a  notice  on  a  receipt, 
or  on  a  ticket,  or  in  a  newspaper,  will  amount  to  an  agreement 
that  the  forwarder  had  assented  to  the  terms,  is  a  question  of 
fact  for  the  jury  to  determine  in  each  case  under  the  direction 
of  the  court,  A  carrier  cannot,  even  by  express  agreement,  re- 
lieve himself  from  loss  occasioned  by  his  own  willful  or  fraudu- 
lent misconduct,  or  that  of  his  agents. 

nOTAI^IBS   l^UBLIG. 

They  were  first  appointed  by  the  primitive  fathers  of  the 
Christian  Church  to  collect  the  acts  or  memoirs  of  the  lives  of 
the  martyrs  in  the  first  century.  This  office  was  afterward 
changed  to  a  commercial  employment  to  attest  deeds  and  writ- 
ings, so  as  to  establish  their  authenticity  in  any  other  country. 


936  LEGAL  DEPARTMENT. 

©HB   LiBGAL   ^I^OPBSSION. 


BY  KELSON  SIZER. 


"I  would  be  a  lawyer!"  Do  you  know  how  much  you  pro- 
pose to  yourself?  Can  you  master  the  knowledge  which  the 
legal  profession  requires?  Have  you  the  courage  to  meet  the 
opposition  which  is  incident  to  that  profession?  With  half  a 
dozen  well-paid  opponents  ambitious  to  triumph,  eager  to  suc- 
ceed, unscrupulous  it  may  be,  pugnacious  and  artful,  can  you 
meet  them  all?  Will  you  wince  before  their  combined  battery 
of  mental  and  magnetic  force?  or  have  you  the  strength  to 
stand  in  the  presence  of  such  men  erect,  serene,  self-poised,  and 
independent?  Have  you  the  talent  to  meet  their  arguments? 
Have  you  the  memory  to  hold  the  knowledge  required?  Have 
you  the  quick  perception  to  seize  upon  facts  and  appropriate 
them  to  your  use  on  the  instant?  Have  you  the  breadth  of 
thought,  the  philosophic  capability,  to  understand  the  principles 
of  law  which  will  enable  you  to  comprehend  the  arguments  of 
others  and  meet  them  successfully?  Have  you  the  fluency  of 
speech  which  will  enable  you  to  express  your  knowledge,  your 
feelings,  and  your  arguments  with  facility  and  point?  Do  you 
read  the  human  mind  clearly  and  readily,  so  as  to  understand  a 
jury,  a  witness,  or  an  opposing  attorney?  Have  you  the  pru- 
dence and  the  consecutive  patience  to  wade  through  volumes 
of  law  reports  and  legal  enactments  to  ascertain  precisely  what 
the  law  is  in  a  given  case?  It  will  not  (|,o  to  be  rash  and  form 
hasty  judgments,  because  your  reputation  and  your  success,  and 
the  life,  liberty,  or  property  of  your  client  may  be  at  stake. 
Have  you  such  a  balance  of  all  the  qualities  that  you  can  appeal 
to  every  feeling — social,  moral,  and  sympathetica! — in  the  judge, 
jury,  and  audience?  Are  you  equal  to  the  ablest  class  of  men? 
Have  you  the  learning  which  will  enable  you  to  stand  una- 
bashed among  the  learned? 

Have  you  the  health  that  will  enable  you  to  work  six  days  in 
succession,  battling  every  point  and  struggling  against  wily 
and  earnest  opposition  at  every  step?  and  then,  when  every  ear 
is  opened  and  every  eye  fastened  upon  you,  will  you  have  con- 
stitution enough  left  to  make  such  a  speech  as  the  case  shall 
demand   and  as   your  ambition   and    reputation   will  require? 


THE  LEGAL  PROFESSION.  937 

Have  you  enough  of  conscientiousness  to  meet  all  manner  of 
temptation  successfully,  to  judge  of  the  right,  the  true,  and  fol- 
low it?  If  you  have  all  these  qualifications,  be  a  lawyer,  and 
you  will  be  a  good  one.  Or,  are  you  dyspeptical,  nervous, 
slender,  and  would  a  week's  work,  or  half  a  week's  work,  wear 
you  out  so  that  you  would  be  like  an  empty  sack  when  you  were 
exy)ected  to  be  eloquent,  and  strong,  and  clear  in  your  final 
effort  in  summing  up  a  case? 

The  most  approved  method  of  obtaining  a  practical  knowl- 
edge of  legal  science  is  by  attending  the  prescribed  sessions  of 
a  good  law -school.  A  young  man  may  read  law  in  an  office — 
in  accordance  with  the  old  custom — but  he  will  waste  a  good 
deal  of  time  over  that  which  may  never  be  of  use  to  him,  to 
say  nothing  of  the  confusion  of  ideas  resulting  from  much 
reading.  At  a  law  school  chief  attention  is  given  by  the  fac- 
ulty to  those  subjects  which  will  be  of  immediate  interest  to 
the  student  when  he  commences  to  practice.  The  writings  of 
the  leading  jurists  of  ancient  and  modern  times  are  analyzed 
and  digested,  and  what  there  is  of  value  in  them  to  the  attor- 
ney and  counselor  is  clearly  pointed  out.  Sham  trials  or  '^moot 
courts  "  are  held,  in  which  the  student  is  required  to  take  part 
and  illustrate,  as  far  as  may  be,  his  legal  acquirements  in  the 
examination  of  witnesses,  the  discussion  of  points  of  law,  the 
address  to  the  jury,  and  the  conduct  generally  of  causes  of  lit- 
igation. Thus  the  student  is  prepared  for  the  actual  business 
of  his  chosen  profession  in  the  most  practical  manner  possible. 

After  taking  the  degree  of  the  institute,  the  student  should 
either  commence  practice  or  enter  the  office  of  some  experi- 
enced advocate,  and  there  continue  his  studies  with  all  the  ad- 
vantages of  direct  practice  surrounding  him.  We  think  that 
it  is  better  for  a  student  to  read  a  few  of  the  elementary  books 
before  entering  a  law-school.  Students  at  law  usually  read  in 
the  outset  Blackstone's  Commentaries,  Kent's  Commentaries, 
Story  on  the  Constitution,  Story  on  Bailments,  Parsons  on  Con- 
tracts, Greenleaf  on  Evidence,  and  other  works,  including,  of 
course  the  Code  of  Procedure  for  the  State  in  which  it  is  in- 
tended to  settle.  The  attentive  perusal  of  the  works  named 
will  furnish  a  very  substantial  foundation  for  a  young  lawyer's 
future  career.  One  does  not  practice  law  in  the  United  States 
courts  until  after  serving  some  years  at  the  bar  of  his  State. 


938  LEGAL  DEPARTMENT. 

Those  who  are  admitted  to  the  national  courts  are  usually  men 
in  advanced  practice,  and  we  suppose  that  most  lawyers  look 
forward  with  ambition  to  the  time  when  they  shall  be  able  to 
practice  in  Admiralty.  We  believe  that  a  lawyer  secures  his 
entrance  before  the  bar  of  the  Nation  by  special  nomination, 
and  through  the  approval  of  the  Justices  of  the  United  States 
Court. 

The  true  lawyer,  in  our  judgment,  is  the  man  of  eminent 
ability  with  a  splendid  body,  an  harmonious  temperament,  a 
large  brain  well  cultivated  and  well  balanced,  so  that  he  will 
not  fail  in  morality,  courage,  prudence,  policy,  perception,  mem- 
ory, judgment,  or  in  financial  matters.  A  lawyer  with  the  right 
development  for  comprehending  all  the  duties  that  belong  to 
his  profession,  with  eloquence  of  speech  to  set  it  forth,  may 
justly  be  regarded  as  among  the  first  of  men.  Such  a  man  may 
be  a  legislator,  a  statesman. 

There  are  men  who  are  useful  in  legislation  who  have  not 
these  brilliant  qualities,  but  who  are  simply  financiers,  workers, 
dry,  hard  thinkers,  capable  of  following  out  the  details  of  prac- 
tical business;  but  the  real  legislator  is  one  who  can  compre- 
hend constitutions  and  laws,  who  understands  society  and  its 
wants,  who  appreciates  all  that  belongs  to  human  life  in  its 
highest  and  lowest  phases,  and  has  an  eloquent  tongue  to  im-. 
press  others  with  the  truthfulness  and  importance  of  his  views, 
and  thus  mold  legislation  and  elevate,  enlighten,  and  guide 
public  sentiment.     Such  a  man  is  the  true  statesman. 

It  is  thought  by  many  that  the  lawyer  needs  only  tact,  keen- 
ness, cunning,  assurance,  and  unscrupulousness,  and,  doubtless, 
not  a  few  members  of  the  profession  have  given  just  occasion 
for  such  a  judgment. 

The  practice  of  law  has  teen  sadly  perverted.  The  errone- 
ous sentiment,  so  widely  entertained  and  practiced,  that  a  law- 
yer is  bound  to  promote  the  interests  and  wishes  of  his  client, 
even  in  the  wrong,  and  to  take  advantage  of  every  opportunity 
to  benefit  his  case  even  against  justice,  has  degraded  the  pro- 
fession, and  the  worthy  and  unworthy  alike  are  looked  upon 
with  suspicion.  Even  men  of  eminent  ability  and  culture,  with 
prosperous  practice,  whose  success  on  an  honorable  basis  should 
raise  them  above  temptation,  seem  to  have  been  carried  away 
by  the  current  of  corporation  corruption,  and  in  the  science  of 


THE  LEGAL  PROFESSION.  939 

"rings"  and  tricky  stock-jobbers,  awakening  a  praiseworthy 
remonstrance  against  it  from  the  better  portion  of  the  pro- 
fession. 

Men  who  enter  the  legal  profession  without  the  natural  gifts 
and  mental  culture  requisite  for  honorable  success,. and  being 
pressed  b\'  want  to  obtain  practice  in  some  way,  adopt  ques- 
tionable means  of  securing  business  as  well  as  wrong  methods 
of  conducting  it.  Such  men  become  "shysters."  By  giving 
false  advice  to  dissolute  villains  or  their  friends,  they  succeed  in 
robbing  them  of  their  money  by  charging  excessive  fees  in  ad- 
vance, and  then,  in  order  to  succeed  with  their  indifferent  abil- 
ities they  unscrupulously  violate  the  principles  of  tryth  atid 
justice.  Such  disreputable  practices,  if  successful,  pass  with 
many  people  for  ability. 

The  Hon.  Nicholas  P.  Trist,  of  Virginia,  when  studying  law, 
inquired  of  Mr.  Jefferson  (whose  granddaughter  he  afterward 
married)  what  he  thought  "would  be  the  prospects  of  a  young 
lawyer  who  should  start  with  the  fixed  determination  never  to 
say  or  clo  any  thing  in  court  or  in  relation  to  legal  practice 
which  he  did  not  think  was  thoroughly  truthful  and  upright.''" 
The  venerable  ex-President,  with  flashing  eyes  and  glowing 
countenance,  instantly  sprang  to  his  feet  (the  party  being  at 
Mr.  Jefferson's  table  at  the  time)  and  replied,  "Young  man,  if 
you  will  adopt  that  plan,  and  follow  it  for  life,  you  will  obtain 
a  reputation  which  will  ring  around  the  world,  and  ultimately 
bring  you  ample  pecuniary  reward." 

The  writer  was  informed  by  a  lawyer  of  Springfield,  111.,  that 
"Mr.  Lincoln  would  not  take  a  case  imless  he  really  thought 
the  client  ought  to  win;  and  it  came  to  be  understood  by  court, 
bar,  jury,  and  spectators  that  when  Abraham  Lincoln  brought 
a  case  his  client  was  in  the  right  and  ought  to  obtain  a  ver- 
dict." The  gentleman  added,  "I  do  not  say  this  from  political 
favoritism,  for  in  this  we  were  opposed,  but  simply  because  it  is 
the  truth." 

The  true  lawyer  seeks  for  justice,  not  merely  for  victory, 
right  or  wrong;  for  the  maintenance  of  truth,  the  establish- 
ment of  the  right  according  to  law,  both  human  and  divine.  If 
the  profession  has  fallen  below  this  level,  it  should  be  at  once 
rectified  and  elevated,  so  that  pure,  noble  young  men  may  enter 
it  in  the  fear  of  God  and  in  the  love  of  men. 


940  LEGAL  DEPARTMENT. 

United  States  r^OMBSTSAD  Iiaw. 

The  laws  give  to  every  citizen,  and  to  J:hose  who  have  de- 
clared their  intention  to  become  citizens,  the  right  to  a  home- 
stead on  surveyed  lands  to  the  extent  of  one-quarter  of  a  sec- 
tion, or  i6o  acres,  or  a  half-quarter  section,  or  So  acres;  the 
former  in  cases  in  the  class  of  lower-priced  lands  held  by  law 
at  $1.25  per  aci'e,  the  latter  of  high-priced  lands  held  at  $2.50 
per  acre,  when  disposed  of  to  cash  buyers.  The  pre-emption 
privilege  is  restricted  to  heads  of  families,  widows,  or  single 
persons  over  the  age  of  twenty-one. 

Every  soldier  and  officer  in  the  army,  and  every  seaman,  ma- 
rine, and  officer  of  the  navy  during  the  recent  rebellion,  may 
enter  160  acres  from  either  class;  and  length  of  time  served  in 
the  army  or  navy  deducted  from  the  time  required  to  perfect 
title. 

The  importance  of  adding  the  county  and  State  to  the  address 
of  letters  or  other  mail  matter,  even  in  the  case  of  m^ost  im- 
portant cities,  is  apparent  from  the  fact  that  there  are  in  the 
United  States  11  St.  Pauls,  20  Bridgeports,  18  Buffaloes  and 
Newarks,  17  Brooklyns,  Clevelands,  and  Rochesters,  16  Hart- 
fords,  15  Louisvilles,  13  Bostons  arid  Pittsburgs,  8  Cincinnatis 
and  Philadelphias,  6  Chicagos,  7  Detroits,  5  Milwaukees  and  St. 
Louises,  32  Washingtons,  and  4  New  Yorks  and  Baltimoi^es. 
New  Orleans  and  San  Francisco  are  not  duplicated. 

A  man  living  in  Virginia  died  possessed  of  quite  a  good  farm, 
which  he  left  to  his  children  (two),  and  on  which  there  was  a 
debt  of  thirty-seven  cents.  The  heirs  wanted  a  division,  so  the 
court  ordered  a  sale  of  the  farm.  It  was  knocked  down  to  a 
gentleman  in  Hamilton,  Va.,  at  $900.  It  \vas  placed  in  the 
hands  of  commissioners  for  settlement,  and  at  the  end  of  six 
years  was  settled,  the  heirs  not  getting  a  single  cent.  All  the 
$900  was  eaten  up  by  expenses.     These  are  facts. 

Breaches  of  trust  involving  the  loss  of  hundreds  of  thousands 
of  dollars  ought  to  receive  a  far  severer  punishment  than  ordi- 
nary stealing.  And  the  law  inflicting  this  penalty  should  be 
so  strongly  put  together  that  no  offender  could  escape  incar- 
ceration because  his  crimes  have  given  him  an  abundance  of 
money  with  which  to  work. 


ICTION. 

Ualue  of  Rigtion. 


BY  W.  W.  BREESE. 


OTHING  is  more  marked  or  more  power- 
ful in  its  results  than  the  faculty  of  imagi- 
nation in  the  human  mind.  It  molds  the 
character  and  shapes  the  future  life  of  the 
child,  in  proportion  as  it  is  wisely  and  rightly  traiVied, 
or  debauched  and  degraded  by  foolish  or  wicked  in- 
fluences. Nothing  is  of  greater  importance  than  its 
proper  cultivation,  and  yet  few  things  are  so  little 
understood  or  cared  for.  No  duty  is  more  binding 
upon  the  parent  or  guardian  of  a  child  than  to  see 
that  its  heart  is  uplifted  by  beautiful  pictures  and 
sweet  stories  of  a  better  and  more  joyous  life  in  the 
future. 

No  greater  influence  for  good  can  be  exerted  upon 
the  human  mind  than  the  cultivation  of  a  vivid  and 
highly-wrought  imagination,  peopled  with  holy  and 
lovely  aspirations  and  purposes.  It  creates  a  bias  in 
the  mind  for  good  deeds  and  noble  acts,  for  lovely 
thoughts  and  pure  words,  which  are  sure  to  add  to  the 
happiness  of  all  with  whom  the  person  comes  in  con- 
tact.    But  if  trained  in  a  wrong  channel,  allowed  to 

(941) 


942  FICTION. 

degenerate  into  superstition  and  foolishness,  it  be- 
comes a  most  fearful  scourge,  bringing  nothing  but 
sorrow,  disaster,  and  ruin.  The  thoughtful  reader 
will  call  to  mind  numerous  instances  of  those  whose 
lives  have  been  rendered  unhappy  and  miserable  in 
the  extreme  through  the  imaginary  existence  of  evil 
spirits,  the  forecast  of  unpropitious  signs,  or  the  em- 
bittering anticipation  of  impending  but  unseen  dis- 
aster. 

The  best  way,  we  think,  for  cultivating  the  benefi- 
cial influences  of  imagination  in  the  young  is  by 
means  of  stories,  fables,  and  anecdotes,  related  at 
first  by  the  older  members  of  a  family,  but  read  from 
suitable  books  at  a  later  age.  Let  all  these  fictitious 
compositions  have  a  moral  tendency,  teaching  love  of 
the  truth,  holding  up  morality  and  virtue  to  admira- 
tion; and  leading  the  hearer  to  resolutions  of  sobriety, 
honor,  and  fidelity.  It  may  even  be  advisable  to  allow 
the  children  to  compose,  for  the  amusement  of  others, 
stories  of  this  character,  and  then,  after  their  relation 
(or  recitation,  if  they  have  been  written  out),  let  the 
older  members  criticise  and  correct  them  in  a  gentle 
but  earnest  manner,  helping  the  narrator  to  a  more 
correct  style  in  future  compositions  of  a  like  char- 
acter. 

Nor  is  it  necessary  to  confine  this  pleasant  exercise 
to  the  family.  In  fact,  it  is  only  because  it  is  highly 
desirable  that  it  should  be  introduced  there,  and  not 
because  of  its  practice,  that  we  have  been  led  to  speak 
of  it.  It  is  a  lamentable  fact  that  most  parents  seem 
to  regard  their  home  as  a  place  of  endless  drudgery, 
and  submit  their  children  to  the  same  rule  when  the 
latter  are  about  them.      Or,  if  they  do  not  require 


VALUE  OF  FICTION.  943 

their  children  to  take  up  daily  tasks  of  unrequited 
toil,  they  at  least  know  little  about  making  home — 
the  indoors  and  family  part  of  it — a  pleasant  and  joy- 
ous place  of  resort. 

But  there  is  also  great  room  for  improvement  in 
the  methods  of  our  teachers  throughout  the  land. 
There  is  gradually  creeping  into  our  public-school 
system  of  teaching  a  formalism,  a  machine-like  order, 
a  clock-work  regularity,  that  is  crushing  out  and  ex- 
tinguishing in  a  most  heartless  manner  the  heaven- 
inspired  germs  of  imagination.  The  teacher  becomes 
a  task-master  to  the  child,  with  no  tender  sympathies 
or  gentle  manners  to  inspire  the  young  heart  with 
noble  purposes  and  charitable  actions.  Like  the 
drill-master  of  an  army,  the  teacher  is  required  only 
to  instruct  in  certain  forms  and  ceremonies,  watching 
the  outward  action,  with  little  regard  for  the  inward 
emotion,  while  the  hungry-hearted  child  goes  unfed 
with  the  heavenly  manna  which  it  is  that  teacher's 
privilege,  not  to  say  duty,  to  impart.  It  is  on  this 
account,  very  largely,  that  many  wise  and  careful 
parents  are  opposed  to  our  present  public-school 
system,  and  are  educating  their  children  at  private 
schools,  not  as  well  regulated  nor  as  systematic,  but 
where  there  is  more  heart,  and  sympathy,  and  moral 
influence  exerted  over  the  pupils. 

It  has  certainly  been  a  cause  for  most  painful  regret 
on  the  part  of  many  of  us  who  have  observed  these 
gradual  changes  that  the  Bible  is  no  longer  read  nor 
prayer  offered  at  the  opening  of  the  daily  session  of 
school.  The  large  majority  of  every  community 
would  gladly  have  this  old  and  honored  custom  re- 
vived, but  it  has  been  dropped    at  the    behest  of  a 


944  FICTION. 

small  minority  who  have  chosen  to  set  themselves  in 
array  against  the  Christian  religion. 

All  the  moral  training  of  the  young,  outside  of  his- 
tory and  biography,  is  confined  to  fiction,  or  matter 
of  that  nature.  We  draw  pictures  in  our  minds  of 
heaven  and  our  loved  ones  who  have  gone  before  us; 
we  imagine  their  happiness,  and  long  to  share  with 
them  that  eternal  home;  our  expectation  of  a  useful 
life,  a  happy  future,  a  successful  career,  is  excited  by 
words  of  cheer  and  encouragement,  and  may  never 
be  realized,  though  to  entertain  them  is  pleasant  and 
greatly  to  our  profit.  The  reading  of  religious  tales, 
or  the  advice  and  instruction  of  moral  authors,  puts 
into  our  minds  the  resolution  to  do  better  than  we 
had  ever  before  resolved.  The  contemplation  and 
enjoyment  of  a  beautiful  picture  elevates  the  heart 
and  ennobles  one's  nature;  so  the  reading  and  remem- 
be'ring  of  a  moral  work  of  fiction  raises  the  aspira- 
tions and  holy  desires  of  both  young  and  old,  and  is 
by  all  means  to  be  recommended.  But  this,  like  all 
other  good  things,  is  liable  to  abuse,  and  must  not  be 
carried  to  excess.  Too  great  a  cultivation  of  the  love 
of  fiction,  and  too  much  time  spent  in  reading  or 
writing  such  matter,  develops  a  one-sided,  monstrous, 
and  unnatural  character.  ' 

The  model  work  of  fiction,  from  a  Bible  stand-point, 
is  found  in  "  Pilgrim's  Progress,"  which  appeals  to 
the  imagination  and  the  sympathies  of  both  young 
and  old,  of  all  nations  and  every  clime.  It  is  similar 
in  character  to  the  pictures  found  in  the  Bible,  where 
Nathan  the  prophet  relates  a  fictitious  tale  to  David, 
and  closes  with  the  application,  "Thou  art  the  man." 
The  parables  of  Jesus  were  also  modeled  in  this  man- 


VALUE  OF  FICTION.  945 

ner,  while  the  whole  of  the  Oriental  tales  that  have 
been  translated  for  us  abound  in  similar  imagery.  It  is 
onl}'  in  our  more  modern  times  that  we  have  invented 
the  "Historical"  novel,  and  made  it  the  fashion  to 
base  all  works  of  fiction  on  a  substratum  of  fact,  or 
of  actual  occurrence. 

But  it  is  universally  acknowledged  and  held  as  a 
rule  of  action  that  there  must  be  a  basis  of  truth  and 
moraHty  in  all  works  of  fiction.  Even  in  the  wild 
tales  of  Jules  Verne  we  gain  some  knowledge,  and 
see'  the  prevalence  of  right  action  and  moral  conduct. 
So  in  all  the  acknowledged  standards  of  fiction  we 
find  truth,  uprightness,  justice,  and  sobriety  held  up 
to  admiration,  while  the  evil  passions  of  men  are 
shown  to  lead  only  to  unhappiness.  It  is  only  in  the 
modern  and  perverted  forms  of  fiction,  largely  known 
as  the  "  story-paper "  style,  and  French  novels,  that 
we  find  evil  things  held  up  to  admiration,  and  the 
mind  led  on  to  raise  a  false  standard  of  action,  at 
variance  with  all  principles  of  virtue,  honor,  and 
peace,  and  as  foul  and  polluting  in  its  results  as  the 
deadly  miasma  of  the  Roman  Campagna. 

Our  earnest  advice  and  urgent  counsel,  therefore, 
is  to  allow  no  works  of  fiction  in  your  household  that 
are  not  calculated  to  lead  to  purer  and  higher  aspira- 
tions in  life.  You  ask,  "  How  can  we  know  the 
nature  of  such  works?  "  We  answer  as  simply  and 
briefly  as  possible,  but  we  hope  with  clearness,  and 
in  a  manner  to  aid  you  if  you  really  need  help.  No- 
tice, then,  first  of  all,  the  title  of  the  story  or  book, 
and  if  it  is  likely  to  be  a  highly-wrought  love  story, 
even  though  murders  and  intrigues  are  not  likely  to 
occur,  reject  it.  Reject,  as  a  rule,  translations  of 
60 


946  FICTION. 

French,  German,  or  Spanish  novels.  Even  many  of 
the  old  and  standard  translations  are  not  fit  for  chil- 
dren to  read.  Don  Quixote  is  an  example.  But 
choose  those  that  clearly  evince,  in  the  preface  or  the 
opening  chapter,  a  respect  for  the  Christian  religion, 
a  dependence  on  Divine  guidance,  and  inculcating 
noble  and  moral  principles.  Be  guided,  also,  by  the 
opinions  of  those  whose  opportunities  forjudging  are 
better  than  your  own.  Criticisms  and  commenda- 
tions found  in  your  family  religious  newspaper,  or 
the  advice  of  your  pastor  or  of  some  educated  and 
kind-hearted  neighbor,  are  safely  followed  in  this 
matter.  But  do  not  neglect  to  seek  this  knowledge 
and  exercise  this  care  in  the  choice  of  fictitious 
literature.  You  may  thus  save  yourself  many  hours 
of  sorrow  in  the  future. 

To  those  who  aspire  to  write  fiction  we  can  only 
offer  a  few  hints,  which  we  trust  may  prove  of  value 
and  lead  to  more  careful  reflection  and  a  possible 
change  of  purpose.  It  is  a  painful  matter  of  fact, 
recognized  by  the  leading  thinkers  of  our  land,  that 
a  large  number  of  young  people  aspire  to  write  novels 
who  are  neither  fitted  by  nature  nor  education  for  the 
work.  When  such  persons  begin  to  write  they  choose 
a  model  from  among  the  exciting  and  senseless  ro- 
mances which  they  have  read  in  their  idle  hours. 
Their  object  is  not  to.  instruct,  and  they  do  not  go  far 
enough  to  ask  what  will  please  their  readers.  They 
only  think  to  write  out  the  absurd  and  conglomerate 
string  of  senseless  imaginings  which  fill  their  own 
brains.  When  this  is  done,  they  feel  aggrieved  and 
abused  if  publishers  refuse  to  buy  their  productions. 
Finally,  if  able,  tliey  may  furnish  the  money  to  bear 


VALUE  OF  FICTION.  947 

the  expense,  and  bring  out  their  own  book,  only  to 
curse  the  few  who  can  be  induced  by  highly-wrought 
advertisements  to  buy  their  trash,  and  at  last  sink 
back  in  despair,  whining  out  that  "  the  world  does 
not  appreciate  them." 

This  state  of  aftairs  is  largely  due  to  the  prevalence 
of  a  sickly  sentimentalism,  a  kind  of  absurd  hero- 
w^orship,  joined  to  a  disgusting  egotism,  and  a  desire 
for  an  indolent  and  easy  way  to  live.  The  prevalent 
idea  among  this  class  of  people  seems  to  be  that  it  is 
as  easy  "  as  rolling  off  a  log "  to  write  a  novel,  and 
that  one  needs  only  to  write  what  first  comes  to  hand 
in  order  to  become  famous  and  rich  in  a  few  days. 
With  this  idea  in  mind  these  would-be  writers  are  no 
little  astonished  when  they  fail  to  realize  their  absurd 
expectations. 

If  any  of  our  readers  have  such  aspirations,  and 
have  really  become  convinced  that  they  possess  the 
genius  and  capacity  to  become  successful  writers  of 
fiction,  we  will  bid  them  Godspeed,  and  hope  to  offer 
wise  suggestions  for  their  help.  But  the  road  is  far 
from  an  easy  one,  and  we  doubt  if  any  occupation 
could  be  chosen  requiring  so  much  thoughtful  care 
and  increasing  anxiety.  The  writer  of  any  species 
of  literature  must  labor  earnestly  and  with  increasing 
enthusiasm,  but  the  writer  of  fiction  is  particularly 
called  upon  to  sacrifice  all  other  interests  and  labor 
while  the  power  to  compose  and  the  flow  of  language 
continues;  for  it  is  only  after  a  careful  conception  of 
the  plot,  and  a  still  more  careful  study  of  the  detail, 
and  the  thorough  mastery  and  grasping  of  all  in  one's 
mind,  that  the  story  should  be  begun^  Then  it  should 
be  wrought  out  and  put  into  writing  as  rapidly  as 


948  FICTION. 

possible,  before  any  other  matters  can  erase  any  part 
of  it  from  the  brain. 

The  labor  of  preparation  is  enormous,  and  few 
who  aspire  to  be  authors  have  any  idea  of  the  care 
and  great  painstaking  which  man}^  successful  stories 
have  cost  their  authors.  It  is  said  that  the  production 
of  "  Daniel  Deronda  "  cost  its  author  the  reading  of 
fully  one  thousand  volumes  before  she  had  completed 
her  preparation.  Hawthorne  is  said  to  have  studied 
incessantly,  working  mostly  at  night  in  order  to  avoid 
interruption  in  the  preparation  of  his  tales.  Dickens 
studied  human  nature  as  well  as  books  incessantly, 
and  framed  and  altered  his  books  with  unceasing  ac- 
tivity. Walter  Scott  worked  himself  into  the  grave, 
actually  dying  from  his  terrible  exertions  as  an  author. 
Many  other  instances  of  a  similar  character  could  be 
mentioned. 

If,  therefore,  you  are  determined  to  adopt  the  pro- 
fession of  a  writer  of  fiction,  and  aspire  to  produce 
works  of  real  value  and  use  to  mankind,  you  have  a 
life  of  great  labor  and  increasing  application  before 
you.  Unless  you  have  an  inflexible  resolution  and  an 
unyielding  will  you  will  abandon  the  work  and  admit 
your  failure,  even  with  bitterness  and  sorrow.  Your 
only  chance  for  success  is  in  the  patient  work  of  self- 
education,  by  studying  in  the  most  critical  manner 
the  productions  of  noted  authors.  Then  you  must  be 
contented  to  practice  much  and  write  many  stories 
that  will  not  be  worthy  of  publication  perhaps.  You 
must  be  content  to  take  little  for  your  labor  at  first — 
much  less  than  the  same  amount  of  labor  and  care 
and  painstakingywill  command  in  any  other  direction. 
But  if  you  are  ready  to  buffet  all  these  troubles,  and 


THE  SCARECROW.  949 

to  have  patience  and  unceasing  diligence,  you  may 
make  a  grand  success,  providing,  of  course,  you  have 
the  brains  and  the  capacity  to  back  it  all  up;  for  there, 
after  all,  the  whole  matter  hinges.  Nature,  without 
doubt,  fits  many  of  us  for  certain  pursuits,  and  if  we 
step  aside  to  follow  another,  we  only  end  in  failure, 
no  matter  how  perseveringly  we  labor  on. 

Hence,  we  advise  you,  first  of  all,  be  sure  you  are 
<:alled  to  write  fiction  before  you  waste  time  in  prep- 
aration or  trial.  But  if  you  are  called  to  do  this 
work,  then  you  are  disobeying  the  voice  of  God  if 
you  refuse  to  make  the  effort. 

She  Sgai^bgi^ow. 

A  scarecrow  stood  in  a  corn-field.  He  consisted  of  a  pole, 
a  battered  hat,  a  large  false  face,  very  red,  very  ugly,  and 
abounding  in  nose,  an  old  soldier's  great-coat,  and  a  gun-stock, 
which  he  appeared  to  be  nursing. 

The  wheat  was  waving  to  and  fro  hilariously.  Each  stalk 
shook  her  golden  head,  and  laughed  and  jested  at  the  scare- 
crow. One  tittered  and  said,  "Ha,  ha!  foi'sooth  Venus  will 
come  and  woo  you."  Another  said,  "He  is  no  doubt  Cupid's 
father."  A  third  whispered  aloud,  "  He  ought  to  write  a  book 
— he  has  been  meditating  long  enough."  The  mood  of  the 
corn  changed.  One  said:  "His  presence  is  intolerable.  Such 
an  ugly  sight  is  sure  to  destroy  our  sense  of  the  beautiful."  A 
second  remarked,  with  great  asperity,  "I  hate  shams!"  Sev- 
eral others  cried,  "Down  with  him;  he  occupies  ground  where 
good  corn  might  grow."  Then  the  scarecrow  shook  his  gun, 
shook  himself,  and  eventually  shook  the  nerves  of  the  wheat, 
for  he  retorted:  "I  am  ugly,  am  I?  I  am  a  sham,  am  I?  I  oc- 
cupy your  ground,  do  I?  O  ungrateful,  gifldy  things.  I  de- 
serve different  treatment.  For  the  future  keep  your  chaff  to 
yourselves,  and  remember,  if  I  am  ugly  and  a  sham,  I  keep  the 
birds  away  from  you ! " 

Valuable  services  are  sometimes  overlooked  on  account  of 
the  appearance  of  those  who  render  them. 


950  FICTION. 

fl   CQOONSHINB   I^OMANGB. 


BY  SHERWOOD  BONNEB. 


Capt.  James  Peters,  riding  home  from  a  raid  into  the  moon- 
shine counties  of  the  upper  Cumberland,  stopped  at  Jared's 
store  and  asked  for  a  drink.  A  jug  was  taken  from  the  shelf, 
and  a  finger's-length  of  clear  yellow  whisky  poured  out. 

"No  moonshine  in  this  sto',  you  see,  Captain,"  remarked  Mr, 
Jared. 

"Humph!"  and  the  Captain's  keen  eyes  glanced  toward  the 
loungers  in  and  about  the  store.  ''Reckon  if  I  took  a  notion  I 
could  unearth  some  moonshine  an'  spot  some  inoonshiners  not 
fur  off." 

"Captain,  you  mustn't  be  so  suspicious."    ■ 

"Suspicious?  Reckon  I  shouldn't  earn  my  pay  'f  I  wasn't. 
S'picion's  a  mighty  good  thing  for  a  man-hunter.  My  game's 
shy;  but  I've  my  eye  on  mo'  than  knows  of  me.  Some  folks- 
will  find  thar  b'ilers  smashed  when  they  dunno  I'm  around." 

Silence.  Some  of  the  young  men  shrugged  their  shoulders. 
One  drawled  out  at  last  that  he  "  didn't  know  as  anybody  keered 
three  jumps  of  a  louse  for  Jim  Peters  or  his  threatenins." 

"  Come,  come,"  said  a  cunning-looking  old  man,  "  don't  let's 
have  no  words.  We're  all  peaceable  folks,  Captain,  in  this  here 
settlement — powerful  peaceable.  Ter  be  sho'  we  don't  like  no- 
body a-foolin'  round  our  business.  We  come  from  Carliny 
more'n  a  hundred  ye'rs  ago,  an'  here  we've  lived  peaceful  an' 
orderly  ever  since  —  a-livin',  an'  a-dyin',  an'  a-marr3'in',  an' 
a-breedin " 

"And  a-learnin'  th'  use  of  th'  shot-gun,"  interposed  Dick 
Oscar,  qdietly. 

"I'm  a  Tennessee  man  myself,"  said  Capt.  Peters,  "an'  I 
ruther  think  I  know  how  t'use  a  shot-gun.  An'  I've  got  a  rifle 
that's  a  sixteen-shooter." 

There  wjts  a  general  movement  of  interest. 

"Let's  have  a  look  at  it,- Captain." 

"It  don't  go  out  o'  my  hand;  but  you  can  look  much's  you 
please.     Ain't  she  a  beauty,  now?" 

They  crowded  around,  patting  and  praising  the  gun  as  if  it 
were  a  human.     And  there  was  a  general  murmur  of  assent 


A  MOONSHINE  ROMANCE.  951 

when  old  man  Welch  exclaimed,  "Ain't  it  a  pity,  boys,  ter  see 
sech  a  rifle  as  that  throwed  away  on  a  damned  Gov'ment 
officer?" 

Capt.  Peters  only  laughed.  He  was  very  good-humored,  this 
mountain  terror,  except  when,  as  they  would  say,  his  blood  was 
up.     Then  it  was  as  safe  to  meet  a  starving  tiger. 

"  Seems  to  me  's  if  the  Captain  had  somethin'  on  his  mind," 
remarked  Mrs.  Riggs  that  same  evening'. 

The  Riggses  lived  at  Bloomington,  and  the  Captain  and  his 
family  were  paying  them  a  visit,  preparatory  to  settling  in  the 
same  place.  Mrs.  Riggs  was  a  bustling  young  woman,  "born 
in  quite  another,  part  of  the  State,"  as  she  would  tell  you,  with 
an  air;  "no  mopin'  mountain  blood  in  me."  She,  was  the  third 
wife  of  her  husband — a  sanctimonious  old  chap,  with  his  long, 
white  beard,  the  ends  of  which  he  used  to  assist  meditation,  as 
a  cow  chews  its  cud. 

"James  Riggs,"  his  wife  had  said,  when  he  courted  her,  "its 
my  opinion  you  talked  them  two  previous  women  to  death;  but 
if  you  get  me,  mark  one  thing,  you'll  get  your  match."  And 
he  had. 

The  Riggses  were  extremely  sensible  of  the  honor  of  having 
Capt.  Peters  in  the  house.  Dom  Pedro  and  Cetewayo  rolled 
into  one  could  not  have  been  watched  with  more  solicitude. 
Had  not  his  name  been  in  every  paper  in  the  Union,  and  his 
portrait  in  a  New  York  jom-nal?  That  the  eyes  of  the  nation 
were  fixed  upon  him  Peters  himself  did  not  doubt;  and  it  was 
asserted  through  the  country  that  he  was  in  close  correspond- 
ence with  the  President. 

"Jim's  been  a-broodin',"  said  Mrs.  Peters  —  a  moon-faced 
woman  with  dull  blue  eyes — "  ever  since  he  went  into  this  bus- 
iness. I've  wished  time  'n'  agin  he'd  stuck  to  blacksmithin', 
for  I've  suffered  a  thousan'  deaths  with  him  off  a-wagerin'* 
over  the  mountains." 

"  He  was  called  of  the  Lord,"  said  Mr.  Riggs, ."  and  his  hand 
must  not  be  stayed.  The  inikity  of  man  shell  be  put  down  in 
the  land." 

"  Y — es,"  drawled  the  Captain,  "  I  am  a-goin'  to  bust  up  the 
stillin'  business  in  Tennessee.  But  I'm  plagued  about  them 
Jared  boys.     I  can't  ketch  'em,  nohow." 

'■''  Wandering. 


952  FICTION. 

A  knock  at  the  door,  and  a  young  fellow  came  in  and  shook 
hands  eagerly  with  the  Captain.  His  name  was  Maddox. 
Capt.  Peters  had  picked  him  up  in  Nashville,  and  employed 
him  "on  trial."' 

"I  was  just  a-speakin'  of  the  Jareds,"  he  said.  "I'm  prett}' 
sure  they've  got  a  still  somewhar.  They  look  me  in  the  eye  too 
powerful  innocent  to  be  all  right.  Now,  I've  got  a  notion  in 
my  head — if  I  only  had  anybody  I  could  trust." 

Maddox  drew  himself  up,  alert,  watchful  as  a  listening  sen- 
tinel. "  What  can't  be  done  one  way  must  be  done  another," 
said  Capt.  Peters,  slowly. 

"And  rightly  you  speak,"  said  Mr.  Riggs,  as  he  spat  out  his 
beard;  "it's  the  Lord's  work,  an'  be  done  it  must,  with  every 
wepping  known  to  man.'* 

"I  knew  it!  I  knew  it,  Captain!"  cried  Mrs.  Riggs.  "I 
knew  you  had  somethin'  on  your  mind.  You're  a-schemin' 
somethin'  great.     I  see  it  in  your  eye." 

It  remained  in  the  Captain's  eye,  as  far  as  Mrs.  Riggs  was 
concerned,  for  the  Captain  took  Mr.  Maddox  out  of  doors, 
where  they  talked  in  whispers,  and  Mrs.  Riggs  berated  her 
lord  for  having  driven  them  away  with  his  tongue. 

A  few  days  later  a  peddler  stopped  at  Bleylock's  and  asked 
for  a  drink  of  water.  Old  Mother  Bleylock  sent  Eliza  to  the 
spring  for  a  fresh  bucketful,  and  the  peddler,  after  refreshing 
himself,  opened  his  pack. 

"'Pears  if  we  oughtn't  ter  trouble  you,"  she  said,  "'cause  we 
can't  buy  a  pin's  wuth." 

"Jest  for  the  pleasure,  ma'am,"  said  the  gallant  peddler. 

The  pack  was  opened,  and  three  pairs  of  eyes  grew  big  with 
delight. 

"'F  you'll  wait  till  par  comes,  I'll  make  him  buy  me  that  col- 
lar," said  Janey,  the  younger  of  the  Bleylock  girls. 

"P'raps  Dick  Oscar 'd  buy  you  a  pi^esent 'f  he  was  here," 
suggested  Eliaa. 

"If  'taint  makin'  too  free,  I'd  like  to  say  I  admire  Dick  Os- 
car's taste,"  said  the  peddler,  with  an  admiring  glance. 

Janey  responded  with,  "O  you  hush!"  and  a  toss  of  her 
head;  and  old  Mother  Bleylock  said,  "The  boys  most  generally 
always  paid  Janey  a  good  deal  'f  attention." 

She  possessed  a  bold  prettiness,  this  mountain-pink.    Brown- 


A  MOONSHINE  ROMANCE.  953 

skinned,  black-eyed,  red-lipped,  and  a  way  of  dropping  her 
head  on  her  swelling  neck,  and  looking  mutiny  from  under  her 
heavy  brows.  Eliza  was  a  thin  slip  of  a  girl,  with  a  demure 
but  vacant  look  in  her  blue  eyes,  and  a  shy,  nervous  manner. 

"I'll  tell  you  the  truth,  ma'am,"  remarked  the  peddler  to  the 
mother;  "you  could  take  these  girls  o'  yours  to  Nashville,  an' 
people  in  th'  streets  would  follow  them  for  their  good  looks. 
An'  that's  heaven's  own  truth.     All  yo'  family,  these  two.-*" 

"Lor  no;  I've  got  three  boys." 

"All  at  home  farmin',  I  s'pose?"  * 

"Yaas." 

"Long  road  to  take  their  crops  to  market." 

"I  ain't  never  heerd  no  complaint." 

"Now,  'bout  these  goods  o'  mine,"  said  the  peddler;  "'f  you 
could  put  me  up  for  a  few  days,  we,  might  make  a  trade.  I'm 
^s  tired  's  a  lame  horse,  and  wouldn't  want  nothin'  better'n  to 
rest  right  here." 

"I'd  like  nuthin'  better'n  to  take  you;  but  th'  ain't  no  use 
sayin'  a  word  till  pa  gits  home.    He  ain't  no  hand  for  strangers." 

"  Well,  I  won't  be  a  stranger  longer  'n  I  can  help,"  said  the 
agreeable  peddler.  "  My  name's  Pond,  Marcus  Pond — Nash- 
ville boy;  but  a  rollin'-stone,  you  know.  I've  peddled  books 
-an'  sewin'-machines,  an'  no  end  of  a  lot  of  traps  generally. 
Fond  o'  travel,  you  see;  but  jest  's  steady  's  old  Time.  Never 
drink  when  I  travel;  promised  my  mother  I  wouldn't." 

"  'Tis  a  good  thing,"  said  Mother  Bleylock,  with  energy.  "  I 
do  despise  to  see  a  fuddled  man.  Whisky  ain't  fit  for  nuthin' 
but  ter  fatten  hogs  on." 

Father  Bleylock  came  home,  and  beyond  a  stare  and  a  silent 
nod,  took  little  notice  of  the  peddler.  He  was  a  tall  man,  thin, 
taciturn,  and  yellow,  and  with  a  neck  so  small  that  his  head 
presented  the  appearance  of  being  stuck  on  a  pin. 

He  lighted  his  pipe,  and  after  a  soothing  interval  of  smoking, 
•"Peddler'd  like  to  stop  over  a  period,"  said  his  wife. 

Puft",  puff.     "  Don't  see  no  objection."     Puff,  puff. 

And  a  gentle  hilarity  agitated  the  bosoms  that  yearned  over 
the  peddler's  pack. 

Mr.  Pond,  as  he  had  promised,  soon  ceased  to  be  a  stranger. 
The  old  man  discouised  on  the  grievances  of  taxes, and  the  old 
woman,  after  the  manner  of  mothers,  talked  about  her  daughters. 


954  FICTION. 

"My  gals  is  eddicated,"  she  would  say;  "been  over  t'  Cook- 
ville  months  an'  months  a-schoolin'.  But,  lor!  thar's  some 
folks  you  can't  weed  the  badness  out  'f,  an'  Janey's  a  spitfii-e, 
she  is.  Seems  's  if  Dick  Oscar  wants  to  have  her,  but  he  acts^ 
kinder  curious  about  it — blow  hot,  blow  cold.  Dunno.  Now 
Lizy  is  different.  Can't  tell  why,  less'n  'tis  that  I  went  to 
camp-meetin'  an'  perfessed  awhile  befo'  she  was  born.  Some- 
how sh6's  always  been  delicater  an'  quieter  like  'n  any  of  mv 
children." 

The  Bleylock  boys,  easy,  rollicking  fellows,  treated  the  ped- 
dler very  much  as  if  he  had  been  a  harmless  though  unneces- 
sary cat  about  the  house,  and  were  surprised  when  Dick  Oscar, 
dropping  in  one  evening,  informed  them  that  they  were  all  a 
pack  of  fools  for  "  takin'  in  a  stranger  so  free  and  easy." 

"Why,  I  ain't  paid  no  more  attention  to  th'  man  'n  if  he'd 
a-been  a  preacher,"  said  Sam  Bleylock;  "seems  's  if  th'  ain't 
no  harm  t'  him." 

•     "  He's  a  very  God-fearin'  mari,"  said  Eliza,  softly,  "  an'  a  pow- 
erful reader  of  the  Bible." 

"  'F  you'll  take  my  say-so,  you'll  git  shet  o'  him,"  said  Dick 
Oscar. 

"  He's  got  such  beautiful  taste,"  said  Mother  Bleylock.  "  It's 
as  good  's  goin'  to  th'  city  to  look  at  his  things." 

"  I  see  he's  been  a-dressin'  you  up,"  said  Oscar,  with  a  sneer 
at  the  new  ribbons  the  girls  wore  round  their  necks. 

Janey  sprang  up.  Her  face  reddened.  In  an  instant  she  had 
torn  off  the  ribbon  and  stamped  her  foot  on  it.  "That's  how 
much  I  care  for  him  an'  his  ribbins!"  she  cried. 

"  Don't  fly  quite  off  the  handle,"  said  Mr.  Oscar  coolly.  Ev- 
idently he  shared  her  mother's  opinion  that  Miss  Janey  was  a 
spitfire. 

Poor  Janey!  She  had  hoped  to  please  her  lover  by  her  scorn 
of  the  peddler's  gift,  but  she  was  coming  to  the  conclusion  that 
he  was  a  hard  man  to  please.  She  was  a  passionate  young  an- 
imal, and  she  had  thrown  herself  into  his  arms  with  a  readiness 
that  robbed  herself  of  her  graces.  He  liked  to  sting  and  stroke 
her  alternately,  and  was  about  as  unsatisfactory  a  lover  as  Janey 
could  have  found  on  the  Cumberland.  But  she  liked  him,  saw 
with  his  eyes,  thought  with  his  thoughts.  Naturally  she  turned 
against  the  peddler,  and  from  this  time  set  herself  to  watch  him. 


A  MOONSHINE  ROMANCE.  95& 

That  harmless  young  man,  in  the  meantime,  was  doing  what 
he  could.  He  wandered  about  the  country,  selling  such  little 
things  as  the  people  could  buy,  "  pumping  "  the  Blcylock  boys 
and  making  love  to  the  Bleylock  girls.  The  "pumping"  pro- 
cess was  rewarded  with  about  as  much  success  as  would  attend 
fishing  for  a  sotil  through  the  eye  of  a  skeleton.  In  the  love- 
making  there  was  more  hope. 

Janey  was  accessible  to  flattery,  and  encouraged  him  with 
looks  of  fire.  But  there  was  something  in  her  eye  he  did  not 
trust,  and  he  was  a  wary  man,  the  peddler.  Besides,  fehe 
slapped  his  face  when  he  tried  to  kiss  her.  But  he  soon  grew 
to  believe  that  Eliza — simple,  unsuspicious,  serious — would  be 
as  clay  in  his  hands. 

Chance  favored  Miss  Janey.  She  was  bathing  one  warm 
day  in  the  creek  that  ran  out  from  the  spring,  when  she  saw 
Eliza  and  the  peddler  coming,  like  Jack  and  Jill,  to  fetch  a  pail 
of  water.  Being  naked,  Janey  could  not  get  away,  but  she  slid 
along  to  a  cool  inlet  overhung  with  tree  branches,  and  so  hid- 
den waited  for  them  to  do  their  errand.  Of  course  they  stopped 
to  talk. 

"That  pink  ribbon  becomes  your  black  hair  mightily,"  said 
the  peddler. 

Eliza  blushed.  "We're  just  country  girls,  you  know,  Mr. 
Pond;  we  don't  have  many  pretty  things.  Seems  's  if  the  boys 
don't  have  any  money  left  after  buyin'  the  sugar,  and  flour,  and 
molasses,  an'*things." 

"Meat,  I  s'pose,"  said  the  practical  p'eddler. 

"No;  we  raise  our  own  meat.  Pa  has  a  powerful  lot  of 
hogs." 

"So!" 

"  But  I  expect  you  don't  take  much  interest  in  country  life, 
Mr.  Pond." 

Why,  my  dear" — and  Mr.  Pond  slipped  his  arm  around 
Eliza — "I'd  like  the  best  in  the  world  to  settle  down  in  a  coun- 
try just  like  this.  A  fellow  gets  tired  trampin'  'round.  But  I'd 
want  two  things  to  make  me  happy." 

Eliza  looked  at  him  with  happy  confidence. 

'*  First,  a  little  wife  'at  was  gentle  in  her  ways,  an'  a  good  re- 
ligious girl,  an'  one  with  black  hair  to  set  off"  the  pink  ribbins 
I'd  buy  for  her,  an'  a  fleet  foot,  an"  a  red  mouth." 


956  FICTION. 

Here  Mr.  Pond  came  to  a  full  stop  with  a  kiss. 

"And  the  other  thing?"  with  a  bright  blush. 

The  peddler  grew  practical  again.  "  Well,  it's  nothin'  more'n 
some  way  to  make  a  livin'.  Now,  say  I  married  a  sweet  girl 
up  the  Cumberland  and  made  a  little  crop.  It's  too  far  to  get 
it  to  market.  I  might  turn  it  into  whisky,  but  lately  Gov'ment's 
turned  meddler,  an'  is  a-breakin  stills  right  an'  left  through  the 
country." 

"They  do  hide  'em  sometimes,"  said  Eliza  in  a  half-whisper, 
"  so  't  a  blood-hound  could  hardly  scent  'em.  An'  a  very  good 
business  it  is,  an'  the  hogs  live  on  the  mash." 

"Do  you  know  of  any  such  stills,  my  little  darlin'? 

But  she  drew  back  a  little.  "  Ef  I  do  know  of  any,"  she  said, 
^' I've  promised  not  to  tell  of  'em." 

"Not  to  the  man  as  is  goin'  to  be  your  husband?" 

"Not  to  him  until  he  is  my  husband."  And  blushing  but 
resolute  Eliza  filled  her  pail  and  started  for  the  house. 

Under  the  water  Janey  clinched  her  hands.  "  Dick  was 
right,"  she  thought,  "and  I  see  his  game.  He's  a  spy  and  Eli- 
za's a  fool." 

She  knew  that  she  had  heard  enough  to  justify  her  lover  in 
his  suspicions,  enough  to  put  them  all  on  their  guard.  A  pas- 
sionate exultation  fired  her  blood  as  she  thought  of  the  service 
she  should  render  Dick  Oscar,  his  praise,  the  reward  of  his  rude 
kisses. 

But,  alas  for  Janey!  something  had  ruffled  hei'  sweetheart's 
temper  when  next  they  met.  Before  she  could  approach  the 
subject  of  which  she  was  full,  stinging  words  had  passed  be- 
tween them. 

"Dick,"  said  Janey  hoarsely,  "d'ye  mean  that  you're  goin' 
back  from  your  word — that  you  ain't  a-goin'  to  marry  me?" 

"Marry  hell!"  said  Oscar;  and  he  walked  ofl'. 

"  I  want  t'  speak  t'  you,"  said  Janey  that  night  to  the  peddler. 
"Can  you  git  up  in  th'  morning  befo'  th'  folks  is  stirrin'?" 

"Of  course  I  can,  when  it's  to  meet  a  gal  like  you," 

Privately  he  wondered  at  her  pallor  and  lurid  eyes. 

Morning  came.  As  the  stars  were  drowsily  getting  out  of 
the  sun's  way  Janey  and  the  peddler  met  b}'  the  spring. 

"You  needn't  lie  to  me,"  said  she  harshly.  "I've  found  you 
out.  You're  up  the  Cumberland  spyin'  for  wild-cat  stills.  I'll 
take  you  to  one," 


A  MOONSHINE  ROMANCE.  957 

"But,  my  dear,  is  this  a  trap?  I'm  nothin'  but  a  poor  harm- 
less peddler." 

"Come,  then,  my  harmless  peddler,''  said  the  girl  with  a 
sneer,  "an'  I'll  show  you  somethin'  t'  make  your  mouth  water.'* 

She  struck  through  the  woods,  and  he  followed,  alternately 
blessing  and  wondering  at  his  luck.  What  thread  led  her  he 
knew  not.  Fallen  logs  lay  in  the  way,  thickets  opposed,  foli- 
age dense  as  the  massed  green  in  Dewing's  "Morning"  hid  all 
signs  of  path;  but  on  she  went,  easily  as  if  she  were  illustrating 
the  first  line  of  prepositions  in  Lindley — above,  around,  amidst, 
athwart  obstacles  of  every  kind.  And  finally,  girdled  and 
guarded  by  trees  and  rocks,  was  the  hidden  still,  where  the 
"dull,  cold  ear  of" — corn  was  changed  into  the  flowing  moon- 
shine that  maketh  glad  the  heart  of  man. 

The  peddler  could  hardly  keep  back  a  shout.  He  had  won 
his  spurs.  It  was  a  much  larger  concern  than  he  had  expected. 
Some  hogs  were  rooting  about  the  sodden  earth.  The  monot- 
onous dripping  of  water  mingled  with  the  grunts  of  these  po- 
etic animals. 

Janey  leaned  against  a  rock,  breathing  heavily.  The  peddler 
thought  he  would  about  as  soon  touch  a  wild-cat  as  speak  to 
her.     Nevertheless  he  did. 

"B'long  t'  your  folks?"  he  said. 
"'T  b'longs  to  Dick  Oscai',  an'  you  know  it,"  said  the  girl 
fiercely.     "Now  I'm  going  back  home." 

"  You  don't  know  of  any  more  such,"  said  the  insatiate  ped- 
dler, "lyin'  roun'  loose  up  here? — pearls  among  swine,  so  to 
speak." 

"  I've  done  enough.  An'  look  here,  keep  yo'  tongue  between 
yo'  teeth.  Tell  that  I  fetched  you  here,  an'  3'ou  won't  see  many 
more  sunups  with  them  spyin'  eyes." 

Mr.  Pond  was  a  tolerable  woodsman,  and  he  led  Capt.  Peters 
and  his  scouts  to  the  mountain-still  without  trouble.  They 
were  all  there — the  Bleylock  boys,  the  father,  and  young  Oscar. 
They  were  hard  at  work,  and,  surprised,  were  handcuffed  with- 
out the  firing  of  a  gun. 

Who  so  crestfallen  as  the  toiling,  moiling  moonshiners?  Who 
so  jubilant  as  the  long- whiskered  Captain?  He  vvould  have 
sung  a  paean  had  he  known  how.  As  it  was,  he  chewed  a 
great  deal  of  tobacco  and  unbuttoned  his  flannel  shirt  for  ex- 
pansion. 


958  FICTION. 

The  prisoners  were  halted  at  the  Bleylock  cabin  for  baggage 
and  good-byes.  They  were  to  be  taken  to  the  penitentiary,  and 
would  need  a  change  of  socks. 

Mrs.  Bleylock  and  Eliza  went  and  moaned  their  fate;  but 
Janey  was  still,  bi'own  lids  veiling  the  dull  fire  of  her  eyes. 

"Janey,  my  girl,"  said  Ofecar,  drawing  her  apart,  "I  spoke 
up  rough  to  you  t'other  day;  but  don't  you  mind  it.  'Twarn't 
nuthin  but  jealousy." 

Her  eyes  softened.  Mountain-pinks,  as  well  as  some  fine 
ladies,  consider  jealousy  as  a  tribute  to  their  charms. 

"Perhaps  I'll  never  come  back,"  said  he. 

She  seized  him  by  the  arm. 

"  Dick,  what  can  they  do  t'  you?" 

"Dunno.     Most  likely  I'll  kill  somebody  tryin'  to  git  away, 
an'  be  strung." 
■  Janey  burst  into  tears. 

"Shouldn't  wonder  'f  you  married  one  o'  the  Jerreds,"  he 
said,  piling  on  the  gloom. 

"  Dick  Oscai%  I  promised  to  marry  you,  an'  J  don't  go  back 
from  my  word." 

"No,  an'  I  don't,"  cried  Dick.  "There  ain't  as  pretty  a 
shaped  girl  as  you  on  the  Cumberland;  an'  if  ever  I  do  git 
back—" 

He  whispered  the  rest  in  Janey's  ear,  and  she  clung  to  him, 
blushing  a  deep,  deep  rose. 

"'S  jest  one  thing  I  want  to  know,"  said  old  Bleylock  as  they 
tramped  to  Nashville.     "  How'd  you  find  us?" 

The  Captain  laughed. 

"Been  entertainin'  a  peddler,  haven't  you?  Which  one  o' 
your  gals  'd  he  make  up  to?" 

Father  and  brothers  swore.  Dick  Oscar  nodded  to  his  dis- 
cernment with  human  triumph. 

A  few  days  later  a  young  girl  walked  into  Nashville  who 
had  never  been  in  a  city  before.  She  asked  but  one  question 
— the  way  to  the  Governor's  house.  That  accessible  mansion 
was  readily  found,  doors  were  swinging  open,  and,  announced 
by  a  sleepy  darkey,  Janey  Bleylock  stood  in  the  Governor's 
jiresence. 

With  a  fine  and  courteous  manner  that  gentleman  listened, 
struck  by  her  figure,  her  full  voice,  and  passionate  eyes.     He 


A  MOONSHINE  ROMANCE.  959 

promised  to  use  his  influence  with  the  President  to  procure  a 
pardon  for  Dick  Oscar,  and  Janey  was  allowed  to  go  to  the 
prison  with  the  cheering  news. 

The  mountain-girl  was  heard  of  in  high  circles.  Hearts  beat 
warmly  in  lovely  Southern  bosoms,  and  they  made  a  hero  of 
Janey. 

"Why  don't  you  marry  here?"  said  a  beautiful  enthusiast, 
who  had  called  to  see  Janey,  and  kissed  her,  '*  because  she  knew 
so  well  how  to  love."  "  Marry  here,  and  I'll  give  you  a  wed- 
ding-dress." 

"  So  we  will,"  said  Dick  Oscar  when  he  was  out  of  prison. 

And  Janey  went  home  a  wife,  as  if  the  stars  had  been  dia- 
monds and  strung  like  a  larkspur  chain  for  her  neck — father, 
brothers,  husband  sheltering  her  in  their  love. 

Mis.  Bleylock  and  Eliza  ran  to  meet  them.  Eliza  thought 
perhaps  some  one  else  would  come  with  them.  Had  not  her 
lover  left  her  with  a  kiss  and  a  promise  to  come  back  with  a 
gold  ring?  The  pink  ribbon  was  round  her  neck.  Her  lips 
were  parted  in  a  happy,  vacant  smile. 

The  old  chap  whose  head  looked  as  if  it  were  stuck  on  with 
a  pin  was  in  advance.     He  thrust  out  his  arms  as  Eliza  drew 
near.     "Don't  you  speak  to  me!" 
■  "Pappy!" 

"Damn  your  tattlin'  tongue!     Keep  away  from  my  hands!" 

The  smile  was  gone;  the  vacant  look  spread  over  the  face 
that  turned  helplessly  to  her  brothers. 

•'You  ought  to  be  whipped  like  a  nigger,"  said  Sam  Bley- 
lock. "  What  did  you  tell  that  peddler  'bout  Oscar's  still  for? 
Might  'a  known  he  was  foolin'  you." 

"I  didn't  tell  where  the  still  was." 

"Hoh!  you  lie  too."  And  her  father  passing  by,  struck  her 
with  the  back  of  his  hand. 

"Shame  on  you,  papy!"  And  Janey  ran  to  her  sister,  over 
whose. lips  blood  was  pouring. 

Her  husband  drew  Janey  away.  "  Don't  touch  her,"  he  said, 
with  a  look  of  disgust;  "she  ain't  fit." 

A  wild,  terrified  look  swept  over  Janey's  face.  Should  she 
grasp  at  the  wind  blowing  in  the  tree-tops  above  her?  She 
caught  Dick  Oscar's  arm,  holding  it  fiercely.  Here  was  some- 
thing to  clasp,  to  cling  to.  Her  soul  shriveled  in  her  ardent  body. 


960  FICTION. 

Afterward  Eliza  Bleylock  seemed  to  wither  away.  She  re- 
peated her  denial  of  having  been  a  traitor,  but  no  one  ever  be- 
lieved her.  She  worked  hard  and  was  used  roughly.  She 
had  never  been  strong.  Sometimes  she  stole  away  and  nursed 
Janey's  baby,  that  seemed  to  love  her;  but  never  when  Dick 
Oscar  was  at  home. 

One  day,  sitting  by  the  spring  alone,  too  weak  since  a  long 
while  to  work,  she  leaned  her  head  against  a  tree,  and  with 
one  moan,  too  faint  to  startle  the  singing  birds,  she  died. 

Her  mother  and  Janey  dressed  her  cleanly,  and  tied  about  her 
neck  a  pink  ribbon  that  they  foun^l  in  her  Bible.  And  she  was 
buried,  with  very  little  said  about  it,  in  the  valley. 

©HE  Flagman's  S^poi^y. 

It  was  a  dismal  November  evening,  and  the  rain  and  the 
darkness  were  beginning  to  fall  together,  as  I  reached  the  A — 
street  crossing,  intending  to  board  the  evening  accommodation, 
which,  as  I  knew,  was  usually  slowed  at  this  point  to  let  off  an 
official  living  in  the  neighborhood.  As  the  train  was  not  due 
for  nearly  half  an  hour,  I  took  refuge  in  the  shelter-hut  of  the 
old  flagman  with  whom  I  had  long  been  on  excellent  terms. 
He  was  a  jolly,  gossipy  little  man,  who  had  become  superan- 
nuated in  the  service  of  the  company,  and  was  enjo^ying  in  his 
old  age  what  was  to  him  a  position  of  ease  and  honor.  He  had 
just  finished  his  supper,  brought  to  him,  as  usual,  by  his  grand- 
daughter. As  he  lifted  the  tin  pail  to  make  room  for  me  on  the 
scanty  bench,  he  carefully  put  back  into  it  some  choice  pieces 
of  meat,  bread,  and  cake,  sufficient  by  themselves  for  quite  a 
substantial  meal,  i' That's  for  the  General,"  said  he,  in  answer 
to  my  look  of  curiosity.  "  My  old  woman  would  no  more  for- 
get his  supper  than  she  would  mine." 

"Who  is  the  General?"  I  inquired. 

"  Well,  sir,  he's  what  you  call  a  man  with  a  history." 

"Tell  it  to  me.     I  am  fond  of  history."  . 

"  I've  no  objection — but  wait  a  bit,  I  guess  he's  coming  now. 
Yes,  sir;  that's  him.  Just  keep  quiet,  and  don't  notice  his 
crankiness,  and  you'll  see  a  character." 

A  shuffling  step,  and  a  hoarse,  tearing  cough,  announced  the 
approach  of  the  General,  who  soon  presented  himself  at  the 
door  of  the  hut,  where  he  paused  and  struck  an  attitude  in  the 


THE  FLAGMAN'S  STORY.  961 

half-light  of  the  flagman's  lantern.  General,  indeed!  A  once 
tall  and  muscular  man,  now  a  miserable  slouch,  with  stooping 
shoulders,  hollow  chest,  bending,  tremulous  knees,  the  dress  of 
a  vagabond,  and  the  face  of  a  sot!  Yet  there  was  something  in 
his  bearing,  in  the  lines  of  the  mouth,  in  the  glance  of  the 
blood -shot  eye,  that  seemed  the  shadow  of  departed  power; 
and  his  salutation  to  the  flagman  was  given  and  received  as  that 
of  a  superior  to  a  dependent.  Upon  me  he  glowered  fiercely, 
excUiming,  "No  loafers  allowed  around  these^premises! " 

The  flagman  explained  that  I  was  waiting  for  the  train. 

"  Why  don't  he  go  to  the  depot.''     This  is  not  a  station." 

I  was  about  to  reply,  when  the  flagman  drew  forth  the  tin 
pail,  saying,  "General,  they  have  sent  us  up  our  lunch  from  the 
hotel;  will  you  have  it  now.-*"  Steadying  himself  against  the 
door,  with  a  hand  that  shook  as  with  the  palsy,  the  wretched 
tramp  took  the  old  man's  bounty  as  if  it  were  his  by  right, 
grumbled  at  its  scantiness  and  quality,  said  he  must  be  off*  to 
the  office,  and  without  thajnks  or  farewell  shuffled  away.  We 
heard  his  .cough,  mingled  with  an  occasional  wheezy  oath,  as  he 
disappeared  in  the  darkness. 

"There!"  said  the  old  flagman,  turning  to  me,  "what  do  you 
call  that?"    • 

"The  wreck  of  a  great  man,  but  exceedingly  disagreeable  in 
its  present  state.  You  have,  I  see,  some  less  unpleasant  asso- 
ciations with  it." 

"I  should  think  so.  Why,  sir,  fifteen  years  ago  that  man 
was  superintendent  of  this  road,  and  the  be^t  one,  by  all  odds, 
that  they  ever  had.  He  was  engine,  steam,  and  engineer  all  in 
one.  Things  went  just  like  clock-work.  He  knew  every  man, 
and  wheel,  and  spike  on  the  whole  road.  You  couldn't  blow  a 
whistle  or  swing  a  lantern  anywhere  on  the  line  without  his 
leave.  We  called  him  the  General,  and  we  might  as  well  have 
said  king,  for  he  was  every  inch  of  it.  He  had  a  good  salary, 
owned  some  stock  in  the  road,  had  a  nice  home,  and  moved  in 
the  best  society.  His  son  had  a  first-rate  position  in  the  general 
office.  His  daughter  was  engaged  to  a  young  millionaire,  a 
nephew  and  ward  of  one  of  the  directors. 

"But  the  General  had  one  bad  enemy — liquor.     I've  heard 
that  he  learned  to  drink  at  the  wine-suppers  that  the  railroad 
magnates  used  to  give  when  they  met  to  lav  their  plans  and  all 
61 


962  FICTION. 

that.  At  any  rate,  he  learned  pretty  fast,  and  practiced  what 
he  learned.  Now  and  then  he  gave  a  wine-supper  himself,  and 
many  a  young  man  under  him,  his  own  son  among  the  rest, 
took  his  first  glass  at  the  General's  table. 

.  "By  and  by  the  habit  began  to  show  itself  in  his  face,  next 
in  his  step,  then  in  his  temper,  and  at  last  in  the  road.  Screws 
came  loose;  things  ran  down;  stock  declined.  Then  the  mag- 
nates complained;  and  when  they  savs^  that  complaints  did  no 
good,  they  turned  him  out.  The  young  millionaire  turned  up 
his  nose,  and  asked  to  be  released  from  his  marriage  engage- 
ment. The  girl-  approved  his  decision,  dismissed  him  kindly, 
and  before  morning  was  a  raving  maniac. 

"All  these  troubles,  instead  of  sobering  the  General,  made 
him  worse.  For  four  months  he  scarcely  knew  a  sober  mo- 
ment. He  spent  the  savings  of  his  life,  his  house  and  goods 
were  sold  under  the  hammer,  and  he  and  his  heart-broken  wife 
moved  into  a  little  tenement  in  the  alley  yonder. 

"At  last  the  Good  Templars  got  4iold  of  him,  and  he  signed 
the  pledge.  You  never  saw  such  a  change  in  a  man.  He  was^ 
like  one  alive  from  the  dead.  The  railroad  folks  had  so  much 
faith  in  him  that  they  made  him  train-dispatcher.  It  was  a 
step  down,  but  he  took  it  willingly,  and  did  his  work  well.  When 
the  ne^v  depot  was  opened  the  beer  was  furnished  without 
stint.  To  everybody's  horror  the  General  took  a  glass.  What 
happened  after  that  no  one  knew;  but  that  night  he  ran  two 
trains  together  at  the  Millwood  switch,  killing  one  man  and 
wounding  four.  In  half  an  hour  after  the  accident  the  dis- 
patcher was  discharged.  In  three  hours  he  was  drunk  in  the 
streets,  arrested,  and  sent  to  the  lock-up. 

"Some  of  the  boys  went  over  and  paid  his  fine.  Then  he 
swore  by  all  that  is  holy  that  he  would  never  drink  again. 
After  a  probation  of  six  months,  and  when  his  reformation 
seemed  to  be  genuine  and  permanent,  he  was  offered'  a  con- 
ductor's position.  It  was  another  step  dovra,  but  he  took  it 
gladly,  and  did  his  very  best,  which  was  as  well  as  the  best 
could  do.  One  day  the  director's  car  was  attached  to  his  train. 
He  went  through  as  they  sat  at  dinner.  Thp  smell  of  the  wine 
awakened  the  old  demon  in  him,  and  at  the  next  station  he  got 
a  glass  of  liquor.  He  made  a  fool  of  himself,  insulted  the  pas- 
sengers, was  complained  of,  and  discharged. 


THE  HAND  OF  FA  TE.  963 

"Once  more  after  that  the  company  gave  him  a  chance  to 
earn  his  bread.  He  was  appointed  to  a  petty  clerkship  in  the 
general  office.  His  son  had  long  ago  lost  his  place  there  on 
account  of  intemperate  habits.  The  father  soon  lost  his  in  the 
same  way.  Some  sudden  temptation  overtook  him,  and  away 
he  went  again. 

*'  It  was  pitiful  to  hear  him  beg  for  another  trial.  He  would 
do  any  thing,  and  at  any  price.  He  would  be  flagman  at  a 
crossing.  But  there  were  no  vacancies;  and  if  there  were,  he 
could  not  be  trusted.  He  would  be  watchman  at  the  depot,  but 
they  dared  not  depend  upon  him.  I  believe  he  would  have 
joined  the  mop  brigade  if  they  would  have  let  him,  but  that 
was  out  of  the  question. 

"From  that  time  he  gave  up  trying  to  be  respectable,  and 
sank  lower  and  lower.  You  see  what  he  is  now — a  common 
tramp  and  beggar.  His  wife  is  in  the  work-house,  his  son  in 
the  penitentiary;  ,he  himself  will  soon  be  in  the  grave.  But  so 
long  as  I  have  a  crust  of  bread  I  will  not  let  him  starve. 

"  Your  train  is  coming.  When  it  stops  you  will  see  a  man 
get  off.  It  is  the  present  superintendent.  He  began  as  an 
office-boy  under  the  General;  but  he  never  surrendered  to  the 
General's  enemy.  While  the  General  was  coming  down,  bis 
clerk  was  going  up,  up,  up.  He  took  one  place  after  another, 
each  one  higher  than  the  last,  till  now  they  have  made  him 
superintendent.  He's  a  teetotaler  himself,  and  he  won't  have 
a  drinking  man  on  the  road  if  he  knows  it.  Here  he  is  on  the 
platform.  He  hasn't  half  of  the  General's  ability;  but,  bless 
you,  what's  ability  worth  when  it's  preserved  in  alcohol?  " 

©HE    r^AND   OP    FAITB. 

When  I  was  still  going  to  school — in  the  graduating  class,  to 
be  sure,  and  past  sixteen,  and  very  large  for  my  age — four  of  us 
made  up  our  minds  on  Saturday  afternoon  to  have  our  fortunes 
told. 

There  was  a  gypsy  camp  on  the  common  beyond  the  town, 
with  vans,  tents,  cauldrons,  and  the  whole  paraphernalia  of 
gypsy  life,  and  every  body  walked  or  rode  out  to  visit  it.  We 
decided  to  walk,  and  as  it  was  a  bright,  cool  day,  enjoyed  our- 
selves much  better  than  if  we  had  been  cooped  up  in  the  stage, 
or  even  in  a  carriage. 


964  FICTION. 

It  was  October.  Some  of  the  foliage  had  changed  color  a 
little,  and  there  were  red  and  golden  tints  amongst  the  greens. 
Now  and  then  the  wind  shook  the  trees  and  scattered  showers 
of  leaves  upon  the  road.  Purple  asters  and  golden-rod  were 
still  in  bloom.  Here  and  there  grew  crimson  squaw-berries, 
and  bitter-sweet  burnt  like  gold  along  the  stone  fences.  Each 
of  us  gathered  a  great  bunch,  and  we  held  them  in  our  hands 
as  we  entered  the  path  that  led  into  the  hollow  where  the  camp 
lay.  Young  and  romantic,  we  were  ready  to  be  delighted  with 
every  thing — with  the  swarthy  gypsy  selling  a  colt  to  a  stout 
farmer,  with  old  grandmother  dandling  a  dusky  baby  on  her 
knees,  and  the  dirty,  black-eyed  children  squatting  about  every- 
where. 

There  v^^ere  visitors  in  plenty,  and  most  of  the  women  were 
busy  telling  fortunes.  As  we  approached,  a  woman,  who  had 
been  sitting  on  a  fallen  log,  arose,  and  a  man  who  had  been 
talking  to  her  pulled  his  hat  over  his  eyes  and  turned  away,  like 
the  villain  in  a  melo-drama.  The  woman  wore  a  wide-brimmed 
straw  hat,  with  a  wreath  of  artificial  flowers  around  it.  Her 
hair  was  dressed  stiffly  and  primly  in  well-oiled  "bands."  She 
had  on  a  flowered  delaine  gown,  and  a  little  red  woolen  shawl 
cpvered  her  shoulders.  She  certainly  was  neither  young  nor 
beautiful,  as  the  "gypsy  maid"  of  song  and  drama  must  inevi- 
tably be;  but  she  smiled  amiably  upon  us,  and  calling  us  "pretty 
young  ladies,"  asked  if  w'e  would  have  our  fortunes  told. 

Clare,  our  spokeswoman,  declared  that  to  have  been  our  in- 
tention, and  we  soon  proved  the  truth  of  the  adage,  "A  fool 
and  his  money  is  soon  parted,"  by  dropping  each  a  dollar  in  the 
gypsy's  palm. 

"Who  shall  I  begin  with,  pretty  ladies?"  asked  the  woman; 
"and  will  you  have  your  fortunes  told  privately  or  together.''" 

Clare  answered  that  we  had  no  secrets  from  each  other,  and 
that  "this  young  lady,"  indicating  Belle  with  the  point  of  her 
parasol,  "would  be  the  first  to  have  a  glimpse  into  futurity." 

Belle,  blushing  rosy  red,  put  out  her  little  hand,  and  we  all 
listened  while  the  gypsy  told  her  that  some  one  with  a  title,  a 
lord  or  a  duke,  would  cross  the  sea  to  fall  in  love  with  her;  that 
she  would  live  in  a  palace  beyond  the  ocean,  and  be  waited  on 
like  a  queen.  There  was  more,  but  I  have  forgotten  it.  Belle 
was  delighted  and  Rose  was  the  next  victim. 


THE  HAND  OF  FATE.  965 

The  gypsy  told  her  that  she  would  marry  a  great  musician, 
and  we  all  laughed,  for  we  knew  that  Mr.  Martelli,  who  taught 
the  piano  in  the  graduating  class,  was  very  much  in  love  with 
her. 

Then  Clare  seated  herself  on  the  old  log  and  opened  her 
hand,  palm  upward.  It  was  large  and  handsome.  Clare  was 
something  like  "Lady  Jane,  not  pretty,  but  massive."  The 
gypsy  told  her  that  she  would  be  a  soldier's  wife. 

Oddly  enough,  it  really  happened  not  a  year  afterward.    We 

were  all  at  the  wedding.     The  next  day  Colonel  V rode 

out  of  the  town  at  the  head  of  his  regiment.  He  never  came 
back.  Clare  wears  her  widow's  veil  for  him  yet,  and  his  min- 
iature lies  over  her  heart  day  and  night  forever. 

But  where  have  I  strayed  to?  Let  me  go  back  to  the  bright 
autumn  day,  and  the  gypsy  camp,  and  the  four  school-girls, 
half  mocking,  half  believing,  very  merry,  and  a  little  fright- 
ened. It  was  my  turn,  and  I  sat  before  the  dark,  hard-eyed 
woman,  with  a  face  like  a  smiling  ogress  carved  in  black  wal- 
nut, and  listened  as  she  peered  at  the  lines  in  my  palm. 

"You  are  a  tall  young  lady.  Miss,"  she  said  at  last;  "but  you 
go  to  school.  You  are  fond  of  music,  and  you  have  an  elderly 
gentleman  relation  who  takes  you  out  a  good  bit  to  places  of 
amusement  and  the  like.  I  don't  see  whether  it's  your  papa  or 
your  grandpa,  but  it's  a  relation." 

This  was  so  true  that  I  came  near  crying  out,  "  It  is  Uncle 
Henry,"  but  I  bethought  myself  in  time. 

"You  wear  blue  a  good  deal,"  she  went  on,  "and  you  have  a 
blue  fan.  At  a  concert  one  evening  you  dropped  it.  The  gen- 
tleman who  picked  it  up  is  to  be  your  husband.  The  stars 
say  so." 

"  How  white  you  turn,  Essie,"  cried  Clare. 

"  I  feel  faint,"  I  said.  "  It's  true  I  dropped  a  blue  fan  at  the 
opera  when  Patti  sang  Traviata,  and  a  gentleman  picked  it  up, 
but  I  should  not  know  him  from  Adam." 

"You'll  meet  him  again,  however,  Miss,"  said  the  gypsy. 
"  Some  Sunday  at  Church  he  will  hand  you  a  prayer-book  with 
the  place  marked  with  a  flower.  When  you  see  that  you  will 
know  that  your  fate  has  come.  His  first  name  is  Robin.  He 
has  black  eyes,  black  hair,  and  a  dimple  in  his  chin  deep  enough 
to  put  your  finger  in;  and  he  wears  a  mustache." 


966  FICTION. 

I  certainly  had  enough  for  my  dollar.  We  all  walked  home 
together  rather  seriously,  but  in  a  day  or  two  the  impression 
paSjcd  away,  and  we  almost  forgot  how  strong  it  had  been. 

The  rest  of  October  was  very  unpleasant.  We  had  prayers 
in  the  school-room  instead  of  going  to  church.  But  on  the 
first  Sunday  in  November  the  sky  was  blue  and  the  air  clear, 
and  w-e  all  set  forth  for  church  together. 

It  so  happened  that  there  were  four  new  scholars,  and  the 
seats  belonging  to  the  school  were  full.  Four  of  us  were  left 
over  to  claim  the  courtesy  of  our  neighbors.  I  was  invited  to 
enter  a  pew  occupied  by  one  old  lady,  and  as  my  prayer-book 
was  in  the  school-rack  I  had  none,  and  did  not  like  to  help  my- 
self without  invitation.  As  I  hesitated  a  book  was  passed  to 
me  from  the  pew  behind  me. 

"This  is  the  place,"  said  a  charming  voice,  and  as  I  bowed 
my  thanks  I  saw  that  the  page  was  marked  with  a  pressed 
daisy. 

Instantly  the  visit  to  the  gypsy  camp  and  the  fortune-teller's 
prophecy  rushed  into  my  memory.  I  could  not  have  helped 
looking  at  the  pew  behind  if  my  life  had  depended  on  it.  I 
actually  turned  my  head  and  looked  full  at  the  gentleman  who 
had  given  me  the  book. 

He  had  black  hair  and  eyes,  a  long  mustache,  and  a  dimple 
on  his  chin  that  you  could  put  your  finger  in. 

The  congregation  were  rising;  I  arose,  too.  I  held  the  book 
in  my  hand  and  softly  turned  to  the  fly-leaf  before  the  title- 
page.     A  name  was  written  there — Robin  Armytage. 

Who  can  blame  me  if  I  said  to  myself,  "Certainly  I  have 
met  my  fate  at  last." 

It  is  vulgar  to  "  flirt,"  wrong  to  make  acquaintance  without 
introduction,  but  it  was  all  Robin's  fault.  When  he  held  his 
umbrella  over  me  one  rainy  day;  when  he  met  me  as  I  went 
shopping  for  Berlin  wool  for  my  afghan,  and  walked  with  me 
and  talked;  when  old  Billberry,  who  made  the  fires  for  the 
school,  came  upon  me  in  the  garden  one  morning,  and  pointing 
to  a  gentleman,  where  he  had  no  business  to  be,  looking  over 
the  fence,  said:  "Look  here.  Miss;  this  here  is  Mr.  Robin 
Armytage;  proud  to  make  you  knowed  to  each  other" — who 
could  go  against  fate?  And  so  I  had  the  impudence  to  intro- 
duce him  to  uncle  in  the  holidays,  and  in  three  months  we  were 


A   THANKSGIVING  PARTY.  967 

engaged.  I  graduated,  left  school,  and  soon  after  married  Rob- 
in, and  was  as  happy  as  a  bird,  or  a  butterfly,  or  a  squirrel. 

I  had  told  Robin  about  the  gypsy,  of  course,  and  he  had 
agreed  with  me  that  it  was  all  very  wonderful  so  often;  and  at 
'last,  one  bright  spring  evening,  as  we  walked  together.  I  spoke 
again  of  the  strange  prophecy,  and  particularly  of  the  fact  that 
the  gypsy  had  known  his  name,  and  I  was  growing  a  little  ex- 
cited over  it  all,  when  Robin  put  his  arm  about  my  waist  and 
drew  me  close  to  him. 

"My  darling,"  he  said,  "I  can't  deceive  you  any  longer. 
There  was  no  prophecy  about  it  whatever.  I  had  been  in  love 
with  you  for  weeks — had  watched  you  every-where,  and  fol- 
lowed you  to  the  camp.  I  paid  the  gypsy  five  dollars  to  say 
just  what  I  told  her,  and  gave  the  old  sexton  two  to  get  me  into 
the  pew  behind  you.  Qf  course  I  also  bribed  Billberry.  All 
is  fair  in  love  as  in  war.     You  forgive  me,  don't  you?" 

For  a  little  while  I  wouldn't,  but  at  last  I  gave  in.  One  must, 
you  know. 

"I  thought  it  was  the  hand  of  fate  that  guided  me,"  I  said, 
"  or  I'd  never  have  spoken  to  you,  or  let  Billberry  introduce 
you,  or  deceived  uncle." 

"It  was  all  very  wrong,  I  know,"  Robin  answered.  "It 
would  have  been  very  shocking  had  it  been  some  other  fellow, 
but  you  see  it  was  I." 

Yes,  it  was  him.     That  seemed  to  make  all  the  difference. 

"  O  Robin,  the  hand  of  fate  was  in  it,  I  believe,  after  all." 

^  Shani^sgiying  Hai^ipy. 

It  was  a  neat,  comfortable  kitchen,  though  wholly  lacking  in 
ornament.  The  floor  was  as  white  as  soap,  and  sand,  and  will- 
ing hands  could  make  it,  and  was  well  matched  by  the  angular 
wooden  chairs,  which  had  become  almost  ghastly  from  repeated 
scrubbings. 

The  brass  knobs  on  the  dresser,  and  even  the  pendulum  of 
the  loud-ticking  old  clock,  shone  like  burnished  gold,  reflecting 
the  beams  of  firelight  which  brightened  the  dusky  room. 

The  tea-kettl^  sang  merrily,  and  Aunt  Esther  passed  to  and 
fro  preparing  the  evening  meal  and  watching  for  the  return  of 
her  husband  from  the  wood-lot. 

A  little  girl  stood  by  the  western  window,  trying  to  read  by 


968  FICTION. 

the  fast-fading  light.     Her  delicate  face,  long,  shining  curls,  and 
dainty  apparel  formed'a  bi'ight  contrast  to  the  plain  room. 

"What  are  you  looking  for  in  the  almanac,  my  child?" 
You'll  injure  your  eyes." 

"I'm  trying  to  find  when  Thanksgiving  is;  but  I  can't  see' 
any  longer." 

"You'll  be  morfe  apt  to  find  it  in  the  last  paper,  Lucy;  but  I 
can  tell  you;  it  is  a  week  from  next  Thursday." 

"O  goody!  so  soon?  We'll  have  one  of  those  big  turkeys, 
and  a  jolly  time,  won't  we?" 

"I'm  afraid  not,  dear;  what  put  that  into  your  little  head?" 

"Why,  auntie,  you  told  me  when  I  first  came  that  those  tur-' 
keys  were  for  Thanksgiving.     I've  thought  of  it  ever  since." 

"  O  yes,  I  did  tell  you  so  Lucy,  but  I  meant  that  we  raise  them 
to  sell  for  Thanksgiving.  We  have  not  kept  the  day  since  we 
were  first  married;  your  uncle  doesn't  care  for  such  things.  I 
missed  it  sadly  at  first,  for  we  always  kept  the  holidays  when  I 
was  a  girl  at  home;  but  I've  got  used  to  it  now,  after  all  these 
years." 

"I  don't  think  I  could,"  ventured  the  child,  looking  solemnly 
through  the  twilight  at  the  turkeys,  comfortably  settled  for  the 
night  on  the  bare  limbs  of  the  old  apple-tree. 

"Well,  don't  shed  any  tears  yet,  Lucy;  if  you  can  get  Uncle 
Jerry  to  consent,  I'll  do  my  part.  Better  not  speak  of  it  till 
after  supper,"  she  added  in  a  whisper,  as  she  heard  her  hus- 
band's footsteps  at  the  door. 

So,  with  what  patience  she  could  command,  Lucy  waited  till 
the  supper  was  cleared  away,  and  tliey  were  gathered  around 
the  crackling  wood-fire— Aunt  Esther  with  her  knitting  and 
Uncle  Jerry  with  his  paper. 

Lucy  was  his  only  sister's  child.  She  was  spending  several 
months  with  him,  while  her  parents  traveled  in  the  South,  hop- 
ing to  benefit  her  mother's  health.  Two  brothers  and  one  sister 
were  at  college,  and  were  to  spend  their  Christmas  holidays  at 
the  farm-house.  This  was  the  first  time  Lucy  had  been  so  long 
from  home,  and  occasionally  she  suffered  from  homesickness; 
and  now,  with  the  fear  that  the  loved  holiday  was  to  be  slighted, 
an  attack  of  that  dread  malady  was  certainly  imminent.  She  felt 
her  courage  ebbing  away,  and  hopelessly  sat  very  still,  looking 
straight  into  the  fire,  till  all  the  curling,  writhing  flames  melted 


A  THANKSGIVING  PARTY.  96» 

into  one  broad  sheet  of  bright  mustiness,  and  then — there  were 
two  big  tears  on  her  rosy  cheeks. 

Uncle  Jerry,  who,  underneath  his  hard  exterior,  had  a  really 
kind  heart,  was  watching  her  over  his  paper,  and  saw  the  tears, 
the  sly,  quick  brush  of  two  little  white  hands,  and  a  brave 
eflort  to  keep  back  a  sob  which  was  struggling  to  escape. 
*' Homesick!"  he  thought;  "and  no  wonder,  with  two  dull  old 
folks  like  us,"  and  for  a  moment  he  wanted  to  take  her  in  his 
arms  and  soothe  her  as  her  own  father  would;  but  he  had  so 
long  repressed  all  tender  ways  that  he  could  not  manifest  his 
sympathy.  But  something  must  be  done.  Rising  abruptly,  he 
took  a  pan  from  the  dresser  and  started  for  the  cellar,  saying, 
''  Esther,  hold  the  light  for  me;  I  want  some  of  them  fall  apples; 
they  won't  keep  long." 

By  the  time  a  share  of  the  fruit  had  disappeared,  Lucy  had 
regained  her  good  spirits,  and,  with  new  courage,  exclaimed: 
"  Uncle  Jerry,  can't  we  have  Thanksgiving  this  year?  I  would 
like  to." 

"Nonsense,  child.     What  would  it  amount  to?" 

"  Why,  we'd  have  a  jolly  time.     We  always  did  at  home." 

"Yes,  a  big  dinner  one  day  and  the  doctor  the  next." 

"It  never  made  me  sick — never  in  the  world." 

"But  what's  the  good,  anyhow?" 

"Mamma  thinks  its  good,  and  she's  always  right.  Just  last 
year  papa  thought  we'd  better  not  have  a  dinner,  for  mamma 
wasn't  strong,  and  we  were  so  disappointed — I  was,  anyway — 
and  mamma  put  her  arm  round  me,  and  said:  'We'll  all  help 
and  do  the  best  we  can,  for  we  mustn't  miss  keeping  a  holiday. 
When  my  boys  and  girls  have  left  home,  and  gone  out  into  the 
world,  I  want  them  to  have  the  remembrance  of  a  happy  child- 
hood and  a  pleasant  home  to  help  them  over  the  hard  places 
they  will  find.  It  will  make  them  better  men  and  women,  I'm 
sure;  so  order  the  turke}',  papa.'  I  remember  it  all,  Uncle 
Jerry,  'cause  I  thought  mamm^  was  going  to  cry,  her  voice 
trembled  so,  and  I  believe  I  should  have  cried  myself  if  she 
hadn't  said  'turkey.'" 

"She  never  had  many  good  times  to  remember,"  said  Uncle 
Jerry,  thinking  of  their  hard,  orphaned  life. 

"Perhaps  that  is  why  she  wanted  her  children  to  be  always 
happy,"  suggested  Aunt  Esther. 


970  FICTION. 

"Yes,  she  said  so  once,"  continued  Lucy,  picking  apple-seeds 
out  of  a  core,  "and  I  think,  Uncle  Jerry,  if  you  had  some  little 
boys  and  girls  you'd  feel  different  about  it.  But  I'm  your  little 
girl  this  year;  won't  you  do  it  for  me?  "  She  was  almost  fright- 
ened as  she  looked  up  and  met  his  stern,  white  face. 

"  It  is  your  bed-time  now,  Lucy,"  interrupted  her  aunt.  "  We 
will  think  it  over  till  morning."  And  Lucy  was  glad  to  retire 
to  the  adjoining  room,  wondering  what  she  "could  have  said  to 
make  Uncle  Jerry  look  so — so  dreadful." 

An  hour  later  Jerry  Winters  broke  the  silence,  which  was 
already  becoming  oppressive: 

"  I  suppose  we  must  do  something,  or  the  child  will  be  home- 
sick." 

"Yes,"  answered  his  wife. 

"Don't  see  how  I  can  stop  choppin'  a  day  with  that  contract 
on  my  hands,  and  Jake  and  Steve  have  both  begged  off  for 
Thanksgiving.  I  wish  there  were  no  such  days.  I  suppose 
nothing  less  than  a  turkey  will  satisfy  that  child?" 

"No;  but  we  can  well  afford  it.  Who  is  going  to  have  our 
money  after  we  are  gone?  We  may  as  well  make  the  child 
happy  and  have  a  good  time  once  in  our  lives." 

"  She  might  be  happy  anj'how.  It  seems  a  waste  to  me,  I 
must  confess." 

"Well,  Jerry,  we  never  wasted  very  much  that  way;  and  it 
strikes  me  that  i/  we  had. had  more  holidays,  and  had  made  the 
old  farm-house  more  congenial  to  a  young,  lively  spirit,  we 
would  have  had  our  son  with  us  in  our  old  age." 

"Esther!" 

"  I  know  we  haven't  mentioned  him  for  years,  Jeremiah;  but, 
for  all  that,  neither  of  us  has  lived  a  day  without  thinking  of 
him." 

"Well,  I  did  my  duty  by  him,  if  ever  a  father  did  by  his 
child." 

"We  did  what  we  thought  was  for  his  best  good;  but  I  fear 
we  made  some  mistakes." 

"He  was  wild  as  a  young  colt;  nothing  could  tame  him!" 
The  father  spoke  impatiently  and  scowled  hard,  lest  his  face 
might  show  the  love  and  longing  in  his  heart. 

"He  was  full  of  Hfe,  and  fiery  too,  and  instead  of  guiding 
him  gently  in  traces  which  could  not  gall,  we  bound  him,  as  it 


A  THANKSGIVING  PARTY.  971 

were,  so  tightly  that  he  broke  the  fetters  and  disappeared.  We 
wanted  him  to  be  old  and  steady,  and  his  young  spirit  could 
not  be  subdued.  I  see  it  all  now.  There  were  no  companions 
for  him,  no  'jolly  times,'  as  Lucy  says,  and  nothing  about  the 
old  farm  worth  staying  for." 

No  answer  but  a  smothered  groan. 

"There,  Jerry,  I  ain't  blaming  you  more  than  I  do  myself. 
We  were  wrong,  and  the  boy  was  wrong,  too.  If  we  only 
knew  where  to  find  him,  we  might  make  it  all  right  before  we 
die.  I'll  warrant  he  has  longed  to  return,  but  pride  and  fear 
have  kept  him  back.  He  can't  know  how  we  long  for  him,  for 
he  never  knew  how  much  we  loved  him;  we  never  told  him." 

"O  Esther!" 

"Well,  father,  1  won't  say  any  more.  All  these  thoughts 
have  been  crowded  down  in  my  heart  so  long  that  I  had  to 
speak,  and  I  think  it'll  do  us  good  after  all." 

She  drew  nearer  and  laid  her  head  on  his  shoulder,  while 
tears  rolled  down  her  wrinkled  cheeks,  and  thus  they  sat  far 
into  the  night. 

The  next  day,  among  the  families  of  the  neighboring  farm- 
houses, there  was  but  one  topic  of  conversation:  The  invitation 
to  spend  Thanksgiving  with  Jeremiah  Winters. 

The  eventful  day  came  at  last.  Lucy,  with  a  dozen  boys  and 
girls,  made  the  rafters  ring  with  their  glad  shouts.  Down-stairs 
the  best  room  was  filled  with  the  hum  of  elderly  voices  recount- 
ing "old  times,"  while  in  the  sitting-room  the  young  people 
were  eating  apples  and  counting  the  seeds,  with  much  jest  and 
laughter,  sly  glances  and  blushes.  In  the  kitchen  a  long  table 
was  loaded  with  g£)od  things,  while  Aunt  Esther,  with  plenty 
of  help,  was  completing  the  preparations  for  dinner. 

Uncle  Jerry  excitedly  went  from  room  to  room,  trying  to 
appear  as  if  this  sort  of  thing  was  of  common  occurrence  in 
his  house.  For  the  first  time  in  her  life,  his  wife  had  asserted 
her  right  to  entertain  her  friends,  and  now  he  felt  glad  that  she 
had  persevered.  He  was  surprised  to  find  what  pleasant  neigh- 
bors he  had. 

It  was  night,  and  the  merry-making  was  at  its  height.  The 
walls  echoed  laughter  and  song,  and  from  every  window  lights 
gleamed  far  out  into  the  darkness. 

From  the  village  depot,  five  miles  away,  a  traveler  was  walk- 


972  FICTION. 

ing  over  the  lonely  road  as  if  eager  to  join  the  joyous  party; 
but  when  at  length  he  came  in  sight  of  the  many  lights,  he 
stopped  in  amazement.  Nearer  and  nearer  he  came,  till  through 
the  unshaded  windows  he  saw  the  friendly  scene  within.  With 
a  glad  smile  on  his  face  he  turned  away,  and,  standing  in  the 
deep  shadow  of  a  pine,  he  watched  long  and  patiently. 

At  last,  after  a  host  of  thanks  and  pleasant  "farewells,"  all 
was  still,  and  only  three  sat  in  the  deserted  rooms. 

A  hush  fell  over  them,  and  they  looked  thoughtfully  into  the 
flickering  fire.  Lucy,  climbing  on  her  uncle's  knee,  thanked 
him  so  prettily  for  the  day's  pleasure  that  he  bent  and  kissed 
her.     Then,  holding  out  his  hand  to  his  wife,  he  said: 

"This  little  lady  has  thanked  me,  but  we  both  ought  to  thank 
you.     It  has  been  a  pleasant  day  to  me." 

This  was  a  great  deal  for  this  man  to  say,  and  they  were 
silent  again,  but  each  one  happy  through  making  others  glad. 

Then  the  door  opened,  and  a  stranger  entered.  He  was  tall 
and  heavily  bearded,  but  a  mother's  eye  will  know  her  own, 
and,  with  a  cry  which  expressed  the  yearning  of  years,  "My 
boy!."  she  was  folded  in  his  strong  embrace,  while  about  them 
both  were  clasped  the  father's  trembling  arms. 

No  one  knew  how  long  they  sat  together — the  long-separated 
family  once  more  united.  Lucy,  with  wide-open  eyes,  enjoyed 
to  the  utmost  this  crowning  excitement,  much  pleased  with  the 
tall  cousin  of  whom  she  had  never  heard. 

"O  John,  why  did  you  stay  away  so  long?"  ventured  the 
mother. 

"I  came  back  once,  five  years  ago,  and  saw  you  and  father 
through  the  window,  but  knowing  I  desei'^ed  no  welcome,  I 
feared  to  enter.  To-night  I  should  have  entered  at  all  events, 
but  when  I  saw  you  with  your  friends  about  you,  and,  later, 
sitting  here  with  clasped  hands,  I  felt  sure  of  a  welcome — sure 
that  you  had  forgiven  th6  past,  and  felt  only  pity  for  your  way- 
ward son.  Now  I  mean  to  cancel  the  suffering  of  the  past  by 
making  the  future  happy." 

"Now, Uncle  Jerry,  I  told  you  so;  Thanksgiving  can  amount 
to  a  great  deal  sometimes,"  and  the  merry  hxugh  which  followed 
was  not  less  hearty  because  it  broke  through  tears  of  joy.  And 
the  welcome  of  our  Heavenly  Father,  when  we  reach  home, 
will  be  of  a  similar  character,  but  far  more  hearty  and  joyous. 


AN  ORIENTAL  STORY.  973 

She  flNGBii  SiiBBP. 


BY  ARTHUR  WENTWORTH  EATON. 


When  the  day  is  done,  and  the  shadows  fall 
Over  the  earth  like  a  dusky  pall, 
Then  from  the  mystic,  the  silent  deep 
Rises  the  beautiful  Angel  Sleep. 

O'er  field  and  forest  he  spreads  his  wings. 
Where  the  cricket  chirps  and  the  wood-bird  sings, 
And  the  murmur  of  voices  dies  away, 
Stilled  by  the  angel  calm  and  gray. 

Human  passions  that  surge  and  swell 
Are  silenced  under  the  mystic  spell, 
And  tired  hearts  that  are  used  to  weep 
Yield  to  the  power  of  the  Angel  Sleep. 

Soft  he  broods  till  the  morning  gray. 
Then  as  noiselessly  glides  away, 
And  the  spell  is  lifted  and  hearts  again 
Take  up  their  burden  of  care  and  pain. 

We  call  him  Death!     'Tis  the  Angel  Sleep 
That  comes  at  last  from  the  silent  deep, 
And  smooths  forever  the  brow  of  care. 
And  calms  tlie  fever  of  passion  there. 

So  we  sleep  and  rest,  till  the  morning  gray 
Breaks  once  more  of  an  endless  day. 
And  into  the  mystic,  the  unknown  deep. 
Flies  forever  the  Angel  Sleep. 

fiN   Ol^IENiPAL   STOI^Y. 

In  the  flowery  land  of  Persia  there  once  lived  a  goldsmith  of 
great  skill  and  a  painter  of  great  renown.  The  two  became  as 
intimate  as  brothers,  and  finally  each  solemnly  promised  the 
other  that  he  would  be  true  to  him  in  all  things,  and  never  do 
any  thing  without  his  consent. 

Having  made  this  agreement,  they  started  on  a  journey,  and 


974  FICTION. 

at  last  came  to  a  convent,  w^here  they  were  received  as  guests. 
It  w^as  not  a  Mohammedan  convent,  but  the  monks  placed  so 
much  confidence  in  the  newly-arrived  artists  as  to  disclose  the 
places  where  they  kept  the  golden  and  silver  ornaments  that 
were  emblems  of  their  faith. 

The  artists  were  greedy  of  gain,  and  one  night  they  stole  all 
of  tliese  gold  and  silver  images  and  fled  to  a  country  of  the  Is- 
lamites, where  they  took  up  their  abode. 

Now,  any  man  who  will  act  dishonestly  toward  a  stranger 
will  prove  untrue  to  a  friend.  Each  of  these  friends,  knowing 
that  the  other  was  wanting  in  .principle,  became  jealous  of  the 
common  treasure.  But  they  agreed  to  put  the  gold  and  silver 
images  into  a  box,  and  to  spend  only  as  much  money,  and  that 
by  mutual  consent,  as  their  necessities  required. 

Now  the  goldsmith  fell  in  love  with  an  amiable  lady,  and 
married  her,  and  he  found  his  expenses  much  increased.  The 
wife  bore  her  husband  two  sons,  of  whom  he  was  very  fond 
and  very  proud. 

One  day,  when  the  painter  was  absent  from  the  town,  the 
goldsmith  opened -the  box  containing  the  treasures  and  took 
one-half  of  the  gold  and  silver,  and  concealed  it  in  his  own 
dwelling. 

When  the  painter  returned  he  discovered  the  theft.  He 
questioned  the  goldsmith  about  it,  "but  the  latter  denied  all 
knowledge  of  the  robbery,  and  declared  his  own  innocence. 

The  painter  was  a  shrewd  man,  and  had  a  wonderful  faculty 
for  discovering  secrets.  He  suspected  the  goldsmith  of  robbing 
the  box,  but  resolved  not  to  make  his  suspicions  known  until 
he  should  further  put  them  to  the  test. 

He  had  two  bear  cubs  which  he  had  tamed,  and  which  he 
was  accustomed  to  feed  from  his  own  hands.  In  his  yard  was 
also  a  figure  made  of  wood,  and  this  figure  he  carved  and 
painted  so  that  it  exactly  resembled  the  goldsmith. 

He  put  this  figure  in  a  hidden  place,  to  which  the  cubs  could 
go,  and  had  the  cubs  thereafter  fed  by  food  put  into  the  hand 
of  the  image.  The  cubs  seemed  to  think  that  the  figure  was  a 
man,  and  they  became  greatly  attached  to  it.  When  hungry 
they  would  rub  themselves  against  its  legs,  lick  its  feet,  and  act 
as  a  dog  or  cat  would  do  in  a  like  situation. 

One  day  the  painter  invited  the  goldsmith  and  his  two  little 


AN  ORIENTAL  STORY.  975 

boys  to  pay  him  a  visit  and  pass  the  ni{^ht  with  him.  which  in- 
vitation was  accepted. 

In  the  morning  he  took  the  Httle  boys  out  to  sec  his  place, 
and  shut  them  up  in  an  outhouse,  where  their  father  would  not 
be  likely  to  find  them. 

"  I  must  depart  early,"  said  the  goldsmith  to  the  painter, 
"  Where  are  the  boys?" 

"A  strange  thing  has  happened,  which  has  greatly  astonished 
me,  and  which  I  hesitate  to  tell  you,  it  will  give  you  so  great  a 
shock." 

"Pray  tell  me  at  once  what  it  is?  I  hope  nothing  has  hap- 
pened to  the  lads!" 

"  Indeed  there  has!  " 

"What?" 

"They  have  become  changed." 

"How?" 

"  Into  two  little  bears! " 

"Impossible!" 

"  Yes;  while  they  were  running  about,  all  at  once  each  turned 
into  a  bear.  Look  out  of  the  window  into  the  yard.  There  they 
go  now ! " 

The  people  of  the  East  are  very  superstitious,  and  a  man  with 
a  guilty  conscience  is  superstitious,  whether  he  live  in  the 
Nortb,  South,  East,  or  West.  When  the  goldsmith  saw  the 
two  little  bears  he  believed  the  painter's  word. 

"  Why  do  you  think  this  happened?  " 

"  I  think  it  must  have  been  on  account  of  some  great  sin.  Is 
their  mother  a  good  woman?" 

"  One  of  the  best." 

"  Have  you  any  thing  on  your  own  conscience?  " 

"  Nothing,"  said  the  goldsmith,  choking. 

"There  they  go,"  said  the  painter;  "just  see  them!" 

The  goldsmith  shut  his  eyes  at  what  was  to  him  a  honuble 
sight. 

"I  shall  take  this  case  to  the  cadi,"  said  the  goldsmith. 

"  I  will  go  with  you,"  said  the  painter. 

The  cadi  heard  the  goldsmith's  story  with  astonishment,  and 
said:  "What  can  this  mean?  Never  did  such  a  thing  happen 
since  the  coming  of  Mohammed.  What  proof  have  you  of 
this  amazing  story?" 


976  FICTION. 

"  I  will  bring  the  two  little  bears  into  court,  and  we  will  see 
if  they  will  recognize  their  father,"  said  the  painter. 

The  little  bears  were  brought  into  court.  The  painter  had 
cunningly  kept  them  hungry  overnight,  and  when  he  put  them 
down  they  ran  at  once  to  the  astonished  goldsmith,  climbed  his 
legs,  and  licked  his  feet,  as  they  had  been  accustomed  to  do  with 
the  image. 

The  cadi  was  greatly  affected.  The  goldsmith  was  almost 
beside  himself  with  grief  and  pity. 

"O  my  poor  little  b — boys — bears!" 

Not  knowing  whether  they  were  boys  or  bears,  he  again  re- 
verted to  the  cause  of  the  dreadful  misfortune. 

"  I  have  caused  all  this!  "  he  said.  "  I  am  a  thief!  I  stole  the 
images!  " 

The  painter  seemed  greatly  shocked  at  this  confession. 

"Let  us  take  the  bears  home,"  said  he,  "and  pray,  now  that 
you  have  confessed  your  sin,  that  they  may  be  changed  into 
boys  again." 

"  O  that  this  might  be!  "  said  the  goldsmith. 

"  You  will  put  back  the  treasures  into  the  box  again?  " 

"If  Allah  will  but  pardon  me." 

The  painter,  on  his  return,  shut  up  the  little  bears  privately, 
and  told  the  goldsmith  to  pray. 

The  goldsmith  prayed,  uttering  dismal  groans. 

"  I  will  go  and  see  if  your  prayers  have  been  answered,"  said 
the  painter. 

The  painter  presently  appeared,  leading  by  the  hand  the  two 
little  boys. 

"Allah  be  praised!  "  said  the  goldsmith.  "Mypi^ayers  are 
accepted!" 

The  astonished  cadi  soon  summoned  the  painter  before  him 
to  question  him  in  regard  to  these  wonderful  things.  The 
painter  related  the  true  story,  and  was  commended  for  his 
wisdom. 

He  might  have  been  commended  by  a  Mohammedan  cadi, 
but  he  would  hardly  have  been  praised  for  his  artful  duplicity 
by  a  Christian  judge.  It  is  not  a  commendable  thing  to  practice 
deceit,  even  to  gain  a  knowledge  of  the  truth.  But  this  is  a 
rather  curious  story,  and  happily  illustrates  the  duplicity  and 
superstition  of  Oriental  character. 


..p. 


runted  'byBblioptr; 


PAUX.     &    TIRGIKIA. 


FOR  "THE  CORNUCOPIA" 


'  VIRGINIA.*  i^r, 


1 1  - . 


;  but  from  the 


f,  irom 
ed 


i  and  Ibrw. 
lead  them  out  «u 
■  in  vain.     He  ci..  .    . 
)ped  at  least  to  discern  U 
il  he  could  1 
.  which  wei ' 


tinf  .! ready  the  si  niounlr* 


by  ihe  cry 

"A 

lie,  ciiin- 

L..>    iw.ests  aloui.   i,  .^  ^  .... 

jfain,  "Virginia,  Vir^.  !*aul  at 

,  overcome  with  fatigue  and  vex- 

tnight  best  contrive  to  pa?s  the 

could  find  neither  a  fountain,  a 

V  wood  to  kindle  a  fire.     He 

'.>f  Ills  own  weakness,  and 

'o  not  weep,  my  dear 


•ught  to  ig 

')  ,;an 


FOR -THE  CORKUCOPIA- 


WISJf  THREE  TIMES.  979 

died  a  fire,  and  having  sought  among  the  rocks  for  a  particular 
kind  of  crooked  wood,  which  burns  when  quite  green,  throw- 
ing out  a  great  blaze,  he  made  a  torch,  which  he  lighted,  it  be- 
ing already  night.  Hut  when  they  prepared  to  continue  their 
journey  a  new  difficulty  occurred.  Paul  and  Virginia  could  no 
longer  walk,  their  feet  being  violently  swelled  and  inflamed. 
Domingo  knew  not  whether  it  were  best  to  leave  them  and  go 
in  search  of  help,  or  remain  and  pass  the  night  with  them  on 
that  spot.  "What  is  become  of  the  time,"  said  he,  "when  I 
used  to  carry  you  both  together  in  my  arms?  But  now  you 
are  grown  big  and  I  am  grown  old."  While  he  was  in  thi.s 
perplexity  a- troop  of  Maroon  negroes  appeared  at  the  distance 
of  twenty  paces.  The  chief  of  the  band,  approaching  Paul 
and  Virginia,  said  to  them:  "Good  little  white  people,  do  not 
be  afraid.  We  saw  you  pass  this  morning  with  a  negro  woman 
of  the  Black  River,  You  went  to  ask  pardon  for  her  of  her 
wicked  master,  and  we,  in  return  for  this,  will  carry  you  home 
upon  our  shoulders."  He  then  made  a  sign,  and  four  of  the 
strongest  negroes  immediately  formed  a  sort  of  litter  with  the 
branches  of  trees  and  lianas,  in  which  having  seated  Paul  and 
Virginia,  they  placed  it  upon  their  shoulders.  Domingo  marched 
in  front,  carrying  his  lighted  torch,  and  they  proceeded  amidst 
the  rejoicings  of  the  whole  troop,  and  overwhelmed  with  their 
benedictions.  Virginia,  affected  by  this  scene,  said  to  Paul 
with  emotion,  "O  my  dear  brother,  God  never  leaves  a  good 
action  without  reward." 

^ISH   ShI^BE   ©IMES. 

There  wa^once  an  old  couple,  with  whom  life  had  gone  hard. 
Their  children  had  wandered  away  from  them  and  left  them  all 
alone.  Their  hair  had  grown  gray.  Their  means  were  small, 
and  the  winter  of  age  was  reducing  their  accustomed  means  of 
support. 

They  had  lived  worthily,  and  had  never  complained.  The 
old  woman  had  been  a  market-woman,  but  she  could. go  into 
the  streets  to  sell  her  wares  no  more. 

"Though  I  am  lonely,"  said  the  old  man,  "my  son  is  prosper- 
ous beyond  the  sea.     Let  us  be  thankful." 

"Though  I   am   lonely,"  said   the  old  woman,  "my  young 


980  .  FICTION. 

daughter  is    a   bride,  and   lives   happy  far  away.     Let  us  be 
thankful." 

But  one  day  a  brother  of  the  old  man  visited  him,  and  gave 
him  glowing  accounts  of  the  comforts  that  wealth  brought  to 
him.     Then  discontent  entered  into  the  old  man's  heart. 

One  evening,  being  alone  with  his  wife  by  their  quiet  hearth, 
he  said:  "  Wife,  when  I  was  a  boy  they  used  to  tell  me  of  fairies 
that  brought  good  luck  to  people  like  us.  I  wish  there  were 
fairies  to-day." 

Just  then  appeared  a  bow  of  gold  in  the  darkness  by  the 
mantel-piece.  It  was  a  fairy's  wand.  Under  it  appeared  a 
fairy  with  silver  wings,  and  a  crystal  star  on  her  brow. 

"Wish  three  times,"  said  the  fairy,  waving  her  wand,  "and 
you  shall  have  your  three  wishes." 

The  fairy  faded  away. 

The  old  couple  were  greatly  surprised,  and  when  their  as- 
tonishment was  over  became  very  happy  in  their  dreams  of 
wealth. 

"We  can  wish  but  three  times,"  said  the  old  man.  "We 
must  be  very  wise." 

They  talked  late  by  the  pleasant  fire,  considering  the  subjects 
of  their  wishes. 

"  I  am  hungry,"  said  the  old  woman,  "  and  it  is  getting  late. 
I  wish  I  had  a  pudding." 

Immediately  on  the  table  before  them  appeared  a  pudding. 

"  Now  see  what  you  have  done,"  said  the  old  man.  "  You 
have  lost  one  of  your  opportunities  by  your  foolish  thoughtless- 
ness. It  is  too  provoking.  You  deserve  to  suffer  for  this.  I 
wish  that  worthless  old  pudding  was  fastened  to  the  end  of 
your  nose."  ' 

Then  the  pudding,  quick  as  a  wink,  fastened  itself  to  the  end 
of  the  old  woman's  nose,  and  hung  there,  a  dreadful  object  to 
contemplate. 

"  See  what  you  have  done  yourself! "  said  the  old  lady,  in  an- 
ger. "  We  have  now  but  one  chance  left.  We  must  consider 
it  well." 

They  considered  the  matter  again.  The  old  lady's  nose  grew 
longer  and  longer  under  the  weight  of  the  pudding,  and  her 
sufferings  began  to  be  extreme. 

"O  de^r!  "  she  said,  "  I  am  very  much  distressed." 


THE  CADI  AND  THE  MOHAMMEDAN  MONK.    981 

"What?" 

"  If  that  pudding  was  only  off  my  nose,  I  should  be  happy 
again." 

The  pudding  fell  off. 

"  Now  what  have  we  gained  by  our  three  wishes? "  said  the 
old  man. 

"  Nothing,"'  said  the  old  woman. 

"  We  would  be  wiser  if  we  were  to  have  another  chance," 
said  the  old  man. 

But  the  fairy  never  came  again. 

©HE  ^ADI    AND    THE   CQOHAMMEDAN   fflONI^. 

A  cadi  among  the  Turks  is  the  village  judge.  Now  a  judge 
in  any  land  is  supposed  to  be  a  man  of  great  wisdom  and  dis- 
cretion, but  among  the  Ottomans  he  is  thought  to  possess  al- 
most supernatural  ability.  Some  of  the  Turkish  cadis  certainly 
have  exhibited  very  clear  insight  of  human  character,  and  as 
great  tact  in  dealing  with  evil-doers. 

Ayas  ben  Kara  was  a  cadi  who  was  well  versed  in  the  ab- 
struse sciences,  and  who  won  a  great  reputation  for  discern- 
ment. 

,  One  day,  as  he  was  sitting  at  the  gaje  to  administer  justice,  a 
man  came  to  him  with  a  sorrowful  countenance  and  said:  "I 
have  returned  from  a  pilgrimage  to  Mecca.  Before  I  went 
away  I  gave  a  purse  of  gold  to  Billah,  the  monk,  to  keep  for 
me  until  my  return.  When  I  went  to  him  and  asked  him  for 
the  purse  to-day,  he  denied  ever  having  received  it.  What  shall 
I  do?" 

"Have  you  spoken  of  this  to  any  one?"  asked  the  cadi. 

"To  no  one  but  yourself?  " 

"Then  go.  I  will  consider  the  matter.  Return  in  three 
days,  and  I  will  give  you  my  answer." 

The  cadi  sent  for  Billah,  the  monk,  when  he  next  sat  at  the 
gate. 

"  I  am  compelled,"  said  the  cadi  to  him,  "  to  appoint  a  treas- 
urer. I  have  chosen  you.  Here  are  three  purses  of  gold  that 
I  wish  to  commit  to  your  charge.  God  alone  shall  be  the  wit- 
ness of  this  transaction.  Your  office  ought  to  make  you  the 
most  honorable  of  men." 


982  FICTION. 

"You  may  be  certain  I  will  be  true  to  my  trust,"  said  the 
monk,  greedily  feasting  his  eyes  on  the  purses. 

"  But  hold,"  said  the  cadi.  "  I  will  not  deliver  the  purses  to 
you  now,  but  will  first  inquire  about  your  reputation.  If  it  be 
good  I  will  send  them.  I  am  soon  to  make  a  long  journey, 
and  the  treasurer  whom  I  leave  in  charge  of  my  gold  must  be 
above  suspicion  as  well  as  reproach.  I  will  see  what  those  who 
have  had  dealings  with  you  say  of  you." 

The  cadi  dismissed  the  monk. 

He  sent  for  the  returned  pilgrim  and  said.  "  Go  to  Billah  and 
demand  your  purse." 

"But  he  will  refuse." 

"  Then  tell  him  that  you  will  immediately  lay  the  case  before 
the  cadi. 

The  pilgrim  went  to  the  monk  and  said,  "  I  have  come  again 
for  my  purse.     You  surely  do  not  mean  to  defraud  me? " 

"Ha,  ha!  "  said  the  fat  monk.  "Now  you  see  my  little  joke, 
do  you?  Defraud  you?  Not  a  bit!  I  onl}-  wished  to  try  your 
temper  when  I  refused  the  purse.  See,  here  it  is,  I  thought 
you  would  have  returned  for  it  before." 

The  pilgrim  took  his  purse  and  went  with  it  to  the  cadi, 
whom  he  found  awaiting  him  at  the  gate. 

"O  cadi,"  he  said,  "how  shall  I  sufiiciently  praise  your  wis-* 
dom!     Because  you  have  led  the  monk  to  believe  that  he  must 
maintain  an  honest  reputation,  he  has  delivered  to  me  my  gold." 

A  few  days  elapsed,  the  monk  waiting  impatiently  to  receive 
from  the  cadi  the  purses  of  gold.     • 

"I  will  keep  them  when  I  get  them,"  thought  he.  "  I  would 
have  kept  the  other  purse  if  it  had  not  been  dangerous  to  my 
I'eputation  when  a  good  name  was  of  more  value  than  the  gold. 
I  have  lost  one  purse  of  gold  to  gain  three.  I  will  keep  all  the 
cadi's  money  so  faithfully  that  he  will  never  see  it  again,  never. 
What  a  treasurer  I  will  be!  " 

But  the  cadi's  money  did  not  arrive. 

The  new  treasurer  could  wait  no  longer,  so  he  went  to  visit 
the  cadi,  who,  when  he  saw  him  coming,  sat  down  at  the  gate 
to  administer  justice. 

He  bowed  low  as  he  came  into  the  presence  of  the  judge. 

"O  you  villain! "  said  the  cadi.  "Do  you  still  think  to  de- 
ceive me?" 


HE  COULD  BE  TRUSTED.  983 

The  monk  was  greatly  astonished. 

"You  hypocrite!"  said  the  judge.  "A  pretty  treasurer  you 
would  make!  I  have  had  a  view  of  your  very  soul,  and  seen 
all  of  its  duplicity.  I  will  publish  it  to  the  world,  and  you  shall 
never  get  a  chance  to  deceive  the  innocent  any  more." 

The  monk  sneaked  away  with  a  face  of  shame,  and  the  cadi 
warned  the  faithful — as  good  Mohammedans  were  called — 
never  to  trust  him  again. 

The  people  praised  the  cadi  for  his  wisdom,  and  the  poor 
monk  suffered  for  his  evil  intentions  as  though  he  had  carried 
out  his  designs.  The  cadi's  decisions  were  ever  received  with 
respect  when  he  sat  at  the  gate. 

r?B  ^OULD   BB  ©J^USTBD. 

Alfred  was  missing  one  night  about  sunset.  Mother  was  get- 
ting anxious,  for  she  always  wished  him  to  be  home  early.  A 
neighbor,  coming  in,  said  a  number  of  boys  had  gone  to  the 
river  to  swim,  and  he  thought  Alfred  was  safe  enough  to  be 
with  them. 

"No,"  said  the  mother,  "he  promised  me  he  would  not  go 
there  without  my  leave,  and  he  always  keeps  his  word.  He 
never  told  me  a  lie." 

But  seven  o'clock  came,  then  eight,  and  mother  was  still 
watching  and  listening  for  the  step  of  Alfred;  but  it  Was  half 
past  eight  before  his  merry  shout  and  whistle  were  heard,  when 
he  ran  into  the  gate. 

"Confess,  now,"  said  the  neighbor,  "that  you  have  been  to 
the  river  with  the  other  boys,  and  so  kept  away  till  late." 

How  the  boy's  eye  flashed,  and  the  crimson  mounted  to  his 
cheeks! 

"No,  sir;  I  told  my  mother  I  would  never  go  there  without 
her  leave,  and  do  you  think  I  would  tell  a  lie?  I  helped  James 
to  find  the  cows  which  had  strayed  in  the  wood,  and  did  not 
think  I  should  be  so  late." 

James  coming  up  the  street  just  then,  came  in  to  tell  us  he 
was  afraid  we  had  been  alarmed;  they  had  been  so  far  in  the 
woods  it  made  them  late  in  getting  home. 

"I  think,"  said  the  neighbor,  turning  to  the  mother  as  he  took 
his  hat  to  go  home,  "there  is  a  comfort  in  store  for  you,  madam. 
Such  a  boy  as  that  will  make  a  noble  man." 


984  FICTION. 

She  pi^jn  op  Booi^-mai^ing. 


BY  WASHINGTON  IRVING. 


If  that  severe  doom  of  Synesius  be  true — "it  is  a  greater  offense  to 
steal  dead  men's  labors  than  their  clothes  " — what  shall  become  of  most 
writers? — Burton's  Anatomy  of  Melancholy. 

I  have  often  wondered  at  the  extreme  fecundity  of  the  press, 
and  how  it  comes  to  pass  that  so  many  heads,  on  which  nature 
seems  to  have  inflicted  the  curse  of  barrenness,  yet  teem  with 
voluminous  productions.  As  a  man  travels  on,  however,  in  the 
journey  of  life,  his  objects  of  wonder  daily  diminish,  and  he  is 
continually  finding  out  some  very  simple  cause  for  some  great 
matter  of  marvel.  Thus  have  I  chanced,  in  my  peregrinations 
about  this  great  metropolis,  to  blunder  upon  a  scene  which  un- 
folded to  me  some  of  the  mysteries  of  the  book-making  craft, 
and  at  once  put  an  end  to  my  astonishment. 

I  was  one  summer's  day  loitering  through  the  great  saloons 
of  the  British  Museum  with  that  listlessness  with  which  one  is 
apt  to  saunter  about  a  room  in  warm  weather,  sometimes  lolling 
over  the  glass  cases  of  minerals,  sometimes  studying  the  hiero- 
glyphics on  an  Egyptian  mummy,  and  sometimes  trying,  with 
nearly  equal  success,  to  comprehend  the  allegorical  paintings 
on  the  lofty  ceilings.  While  I  was  gazing  about  in  this  idle 
way,  my  attention  was  attracted  to  a  distant  door  at  the  end  of 
a  suit  of  apartments.  It  was  closed,  but  every  now  and  then 
it  would  open,  and  some  strange-favored  being,  generally 
clothed  in  black,  would  steal  forth  and  glide  through  the  rooms 
without  noticing  any  of  the  surrounding  objects.  There  was 
an  air  of  mystery  about  this  that  piqued  my  languid  curiosity, 
and  I  determined  to  attempt  the  passage  of  that  strait,  and  to 
explore  the  unknown  regions  that  lay  beyond.  The  door 
yielded  to  my  hand  with  all  that  facility  with  which  the  portals 
of  enchanted  castles  yield  to  the  adventurous  knight-errant.  I 
found  myself  in  a  spacious  chamber,  surrounded  with  great 
cases  of  venerable  books.  Above  the  cases,  and  just  under  the 
cornice,  were  arranged  a  great  number  of  quaint  black-looking 
portraits  of  ancient  authors.  About  the  I'oom  were  placed  long 
tables,  with  stands  for  reading  and  writing,  at  which  sat  many 


THE  A  R  T  OF  BO  OK-  MA  KING.  985 

pale,  cadaverous  personages,  porinfj  intently  over  dusty  volumes, 
rumniaginjj  among  moldy  manuscripts,  and  taking  copious  notes 
of  their  contents.  The  most  hushed  stillness  reigned  through 
this  mysterious  apartment,  excepting  that  you  might  hear  the 
racing  of  pens  over  sheets  of  paper,  or  occasionally  the  deep 
sigh  of  one  of  these  sages  as  he  shifted  his  position  to  turn  over 
the  pages  of  an  old  folio,  doubtless  arising  from  that  hollowness 
and  flatulency  incident  to  learned  research. 

Now  and  then  one  of  these  personages  would  write  some- 
thing on  a  small  slip  of  paper  and  ring  a  bell,  whereupon  a  fa- 
miliar would  appear,  take  the  paper  in  profound  silence,  glide 
out  of  the  room,  and  return  shortly  loaded  with  ponderous 
tomes,  upon  which  the  other  would  fall,  tooth  and  nail,  with 
famished  voracity.  I  had  no  longer  a  doubt  that  I  had  hap- 
pened upon  a  body  of  magi  deeply  engaged  in  the  study  of  oc- 
cult sciences.  The  scene  reminded  me  of  an  old  Arabian  tale 
of  a  philosopher  who  was  shut  up  in  an  enchanted  library  in 
the  bosom  of  a  mountain  that  opened  only  once  a  year,  where 
he  made  the  spirits  of  the  place  obey  his  commands,  and  bring 
him  books  of  all  kinds  of  dark  knowledge,  so  that  at  the  end 
of  the  year,  when  the  magic  portal  once  more  swung  open  on 
its  hinges,  he  issued  forth  so  versed  in  forbidden  lore  as  to  be 
able  to  soar  above  the  heads  of  the  multitude  and  to  control  the 
powers  of  nature. 

My  curiosity  being  now  fully  aroused,  I  whispered  to  one  of 
the  familiars,  as  he  was  about  to  leave  the  room,  and  begged  an 
interpretation  of  the  strange  scene  before  me.  A  few  words 
were  sufficient  for  the  purpose.  I  found  that  these  mysterious 
personages  whom  I  had  mistaken  for  magi  were  principally 
authors,  and  were  in  the  very  act  of  manufacturing  books.  I 
was,  in  fact,  in  the  reading-room  of  the  great  British  Library, 
an  immense  collection  of  volumes  of  all  ages  and  languages, 
many  of  which  are  now  forgotten,  and  most  of  which  are  sel- 
dom read.  To  these  sequestered  pools  of  obsolete  literature, 
therefore,  do  many  modern  authors  repair  and  draw  buckets 
full  of  classic  lore,  or  "pure  English,  imdefiled,"  wherewith 
to  swell  their  own  scanty  rills  of  thought. 

Being  now  in  possession  of  the  secret,  I  sat  down  in  a  cor- 
ner and  watched  the  process  of  this  book  manufactory.  I  no- 
ticed one  lean,  bilious-looking  wight,  who  sought  none  but  the 


986  FICTION. 

most  worm-eaten  volumes  printed  in  black-letter.  He  was  evi- 
dently constructing  some  work  of  profound  erudition,  that 
would  be  purchased  by  every  one  who  wished  to  be  thought 
learned,  placed  upon  a  conspicuous  shelf  of  his  library,  or  laid 
open  upon  his  table — but  never  read.  I  observed  him  now  and 
then  draw  a  large  fragment  of  biscuit  out  of  his  pocket  and 
gnaw.  Whether  it  was  his  dinner,  or  whether  he  was  trying 
to  keep  off  that  exhaustion  of  the  stomach  produced  by  much 
pondering  over  dry  works,  I  leave  to  harder  students  than  my- 
self to  determine. 

There  was  one  dapper  little  gentleman  in  bright-colored 
clothes,  with  a  chirping,  gossiping  expression  of  countenance, 
who  had  all  the  appearance  of  an  author  on  good  terms  with 
his  bookseller.  After  considering  him  atttentively,  I  recognized 
in  him  a  diligent  getter-up  of  miscellaneous  works,  which  bus- 
tled off  well  with  the  trade.  I  was  cuiuous  to  see  how  he  man- 
ufactured his  wares.  He  made  more  stir  and  show  of  business 
than  any  of  the  others — dipping  into  various  books,  fluttering 
over  the  leaves  of  manuscripts,  taking  a  morsel  out  of  one,  a 
morsel  out  of  another,  "line  upon  line,  precept  upon  precept, 
here  a  little  and  there  a  little."  The  contents  of  his  book 
seemed  to  be  as  heterogeneous  as  those  of  the  witches'  cauldron 
in  Macbeth.  It  was  here  a  finger  and  there  a  thumb,  toe  of 
frog  and  blind-worm's  sting,  with  his  own  gossip  poured  in, 
like  "baboon's  blood,"  to  make  the  medley  "slab  and  good." 

After  all,  thought  I,  may  not  this  pilfering  disposition  be  im- 
planted in  authors  for  wise  purposes?  May  it  not  be  the  way 
in  which  Providence  has  taken  care  that  the  seeds  of  knowl- 
edge and  wisdom  may  be  preserved  from  age  to  age,  in  spite 
of  the  inevitable  decay  of  the  works  in  which  they  were  first 
produced.''  We  see  that  nature  has  wisely  though  whimsically 
provided  for  the  conveyance  of  seeds  from  clime  to  clime  in  the 
maws  of  certain  birds;  so  that  animals,  which  in  themselves 
are  little  better  than  carrion,  and  apparently  the  lawless  plun- 
derers of  the  orchard  and  the  corn-field,  are,  in  fact,  nature's 
carriers  to  disperse  and  perpetuate  her  blessings.  In  like  man- 
ner the  beauties  and  fine  thoughts  of  ancient  and  obsolete  writ- 
ers are  caught  up  by  these  flights  of  predatory  authors  and  cast 
forth,  again  to  flourish  and  bear  fruit  in  a  remote  and  distant 
tract  of  time.     Many  of  their  works,  also,  undergo  a  kind  of 


THE  ART  OF  BOOK-MAKING.  98T 

metempsychosis,  and  spring  up  under  new  forms.  What  was 
formerly  a  ponderous  history  revives  in  the  shape  of  a  romance, 
an  old  legend  changes  into  a  modern  play,  and  a  sober  philo- 
sophical treatise  furnishes  the  body  for  a  wliole  scries  of  bounc- 
ing and  sparkling  essays.  Thus  it  is  in  the  clearing  of  our 
American  woodland — where  we  burn  down  a  forest  of  stately 
pines  a  progeny  of  dwarf  oaks  start  up  in  their  place;  and  we 
never  sec  the  prostrate  trunk  of  a  tree,  moldering  into  soil,  but 
it  gives  birth  to  a  whole  tribe  of  fungi. 

Let  us  not,  then,  lament  over  the  decay  and  oblivion  into 
which  ancient  writers  descend.  They  do  but  submit  to  the 
greit  law  of  nature,  which  declares  that  all  sublunary  shapes 
of  matter  shall  be  limited  in  their  duration,  but  which  decrees, 
also,  that  their  elements  shall  never  perish.  Generation  after 
generation,  both  in  animal  and  vegetable  life,  passes  away,  but 
the  vital  principle  is  transmitted  to  posterity,  and  the  species 
continue  to  flourish.  Thus,  also,  do  authors  beget  authors,  and 
having  produced  a  numerous  progeny,  in  a  good  old  age  they 
sleep  with  their  fathers — that  is  to  say,  with  the  authors  who 
preceded  them,  and  from  whom  they  had  stolen. 

While  I  was  indulging  in  these  rambling  fancies  I  had  leaned 
my  head  against  a  pile  of  reverend  folios.  Whether  it  was 
owing  to  the  soporific  emanations  from  these  works,  or  to  the 
profound  quiet  of  the  room,  or  to  the  lassitude  arising  from 
much  wanderi<ng,  or  to  an  unlucky  habit  of  napping  at  improp- 
er times  and  places,  with  which  I,am  grievously  afflicted,  so  it 
was  that  I  fell  into  a  doze.  Still,  however,  my  imagination  con- 
tinued busy,  and  indeed  the  same  scene  remained  before  my 
mind's  eye,  only  a  little  changed  in 'some  of  the  details.  I 
dreamed  that  the  chamber  was  still  decorated  with  the  portraits 
of  ancient  authors,  but  the  number  was  increased.  The  long 
tables  had  disappeared,  and  in  the  place  of  the  sage  magi  I  be- 
held a  ragged,  threadbare  throng,  such  as  may  be  seen  plying 
about  the  great  repository  of  cast-oft*  clothes,  Monmouth  street.* 
Whenever  they  seized  upon  a  book,  by  one  of  those  incongrui- 
ties common  to  dreams,  methought  it  turned  into  a  garment  of 
foreign  or  antique  fashion,  with  which  they  proceeded  to  equip 
themselves.  I  noticed,  however,  that  no  one  pretended  to 
clothe  himself  from  any  particular  suit,  but  took  a  sleeve  from 
one,  a  cape  from  another,  a  skirt  from  a  third,  thus  decking 


988  FICTION. 

himself  out  piecemeal,  while  some  of  his  original  rags  would 
peep  out  from  among  his  borrowed  finery. 

There  was  a  portly,  rosy,  well-fed  parson,  whom  I  observed 
ogling  several  moldy  polemical  writers  through  an  eye-glass. 
He  soon  contrived  to  slip  on  the  voluminous  mantle  of  one  of 
the  old  fathers,  and  having  purloined  the  gray  beard  of  another, 
endeavored  to  look  exceedingly  wise,  but  the  smirking  com- 
monplace of  his  countenance  set  at  nought  all  the  trappings  of 
wisdom.  One  sickly-looking  gentleman  was  busied  embroid- 
ering a  very  flimsy  garment  with  gold  thread  drawn  out  of  sev- 
eral old  court-dresses  of  the  time  of  Qiieen  Elizabeth.  An- 
other had  trimmed  himself  magnificently  from  an  illuminated 
manuscript,  had  stuck  a  nosegay  in  his  bosom  culled  from  "The 
Paradise  of  Dainty  Devices,"  and  having  put  Sir  Philip  Sid- 
ney's hat  on  one  side  of  his  head,  strutted  off  with  an  exquisite 
air  of  vulgar  elegance.  A  third,  who  was  but  of  puny  dimen- 
sions, had  bolstered  himself  out  bravely  with  the  spoils  from 
several  obscure  tracts  of  philosophy,  so  that  he  had  a  very  im- 
posing front,  but  he  was  lamentably  tattered  in  rear,  and  I  per- 
ceived that  he  had  patched  his  small-clothes  with  scraps  of 
parchment  from  a  Latin  author. 

There  were  some  well-dressed  gentlemen,  it  is  true,  who  only 
helped  themselves  to  a  gem  or  so,  which  sparkled  among  their 
own  ornaments  without  eclipsing  them.  Some,  too,  seemed  to 
contemplate  the  costumes  of  the  old  writers  merely  to  imbibe 
their  principles  of  taste  and*  to  catch  their  air  and  spirit,  but  I 
grieve  to  say  that  too  many  were  apt  to  array  themselves  from 
top  to  toe  in  the  patchwork  manner  I  have  mentioned.  I 
should  not  omit  to  speak  of  one  genius,  in  drab  breeches  and 
gaiters  and  an  Arcadian  hat,  who  had  a  violent  propensity  to 
the  pastoral,  but  whose  rural  wanderings  had  been  confined  to 
the  classic  haunts  of  Primrose  Hill  and  the  solitudes  of  the 
Regent's  Park.  He  had  decked  himself  in  wreaths  and  ribbons 
from  all  the  old  pastoral  poets,  and  hanging  his  head  on  one 
side,  went  about  with  a  fantastical,  lackadaisical  air,  "babbling 
about  green  fields."  But  the  person  who  most  struck  my  atten- 
tion was  a  pragmatical  old  gentleman,  in  clerical  robes,  with  a 
remarkably  large  and  square  but  bald  head.  He  entered  the 
room  wheezing  and  puffing,  elbowed  his  way  tlirough  the 
throng  with  a  look  of  sturdy  self-confidence,  and  having  laid 


THE  ART  OF  BOOK-MAKING.  989 

hands  upon  a  thick  Greek  quarto,  clapped  it  upon  his  head,  and 
swept  majestically  away  in  a  formichible  frizzled  wig. 

In  the  lieight  of  this  literary  masquerade  a  cry  suddenly  re- 
sounded from  every  side  of  "thieves!  thieves!  "  I  looked,  and 
lo!  the  portraits  about  the  wall  became  animated!  The  old  au- 
thors thrust  out  first  a  head,  then  a  shoulder,  from  the  canvas, 
looked  down  curiously  for  an  instant  upon  the  motley  throng, 
and  then  descended,  with  fury  in  their  eyes,  to  claim  their  ri- 
fled property.  The  scene  of  scampering  and  hubbub  that  en- 
sued baffles  all  description.  The  unhappy  culprits  endeavored 
in  vain  to  escape  with  their  plunder.  On  one  side  might  be 
seen  half  a  dozen  old  monks  stripping  a  modern  professor,  on 
another  there  was  sad  devastation  carried  into  the  ranks  of  mod- 
ern dramatic  writers.  Beaumont  and  Fletcher,  side  by  side, 
raged  round  the  field  like  Castor  and  Pollux,  and  sturdy  Ben 
Jonson  enacted  more  wonders  than  when  a  volunteer  with  the 
army  in  Flanders.  As  to  the  dapper  little  compiler  of  farragos 
mentioned  some  time  since,  he  had  arrayed  himself  in  as  many 
colors  and  patches  as  Harlequin,  and  there  was  as  fierce  a  con- 
tention of  claimants  about  him  as  about  the  dead  body  of  Pat- 
roclus.  I  was  grieved  to  see  many  men,  whom  I  had  been  ac- 
customed to  look  upon  with  awe  and  reverence,  fain  to  steal 
ofT  with  scarce  a  rag  to  cover  their  nakedness.  Just  then  my 
eye  was  caught  by  the  pragmatical  old  gentleman  in  the  Greek 
grizzled  wig,  who  was  scrambling  away  in  sore  afiVight  with 
half  a  score  of  authors  in  full  cry  after  him.  They  were  close 
upon  his  haunches;  in  a  twinkling  oft' went  his  wig.  At  every 
turn  some  strip  of  raiment  was  peeled  away,  until  in  a  few  mo- 
ments, from  his  domineering  pomp,  he  shrunk  into  a  little 
pursy,  "chopp'd  bald  shot,"  and  made  his  exit  with  only  a  few 
tags  and  rags  fluttering  at  his  back. 

There  was  something  so  ludicrous  in  the  catastrophe  of  this 
learned  Theban  that  I  burst  into  an  immoderate  fit  of  laughter, 
which  broke  the  whole  illusion.  The  tumult  and  the  scuffle 
were  at  an  end.  The  chamber  resumed  its  usual  appearance. 
The  old  authors  shrunk  back  into  their  picture-frames  and  hung 
in  shadowy  solemnity  along  the  walls — in  short,  I  found  my- 
self wide  awake  in  my  corner,  with  the  whole  assemblage  of 
book-worms  gazing  at  me  with  astonishment.  Nothing  of  the 
dream  had  been  real  but  my  burst  of  laughter,  a  sound  never 


990  FICTION. 

before  heard  in  that  grave  sanctuary,  and  so  abhorrent  to  the 
ears  of  wisdom  as  to  electrify  the  fraternity. 

The  hbrarian  now  stepped  up  to  me  and  demanded  whether 
I  had  a  card  of  admission.  At  first  I  did  not  comprehend  him, 
but  I  soon  found  that  the  hbrary  was  a  kind  of  hterary  "pre- 
serve," subject  to  game-laws,  and  that  no  one  must  presume  to 
hunt  there  without  special  license  and  permission — in  a  word, 
I  stood  convicted  of  being  an  arrant  poacher,  and  was  glad  to 
make  a  precipitate  retreat,  lest  I  should  have  the  whole  pack 
of  authors  let  loose  upon  me. 

fiN   fll^AB   STOI^Y. 

The  Arabs  illustrate  their  estimates  of  the  different  colors  of 
a  horse  by  the  following  story : 

A  chief  of  a  tribe  was  once  pursued  by  enemies.,  He  said 
to  his  son,  "  My  son,  drop  to  the  rear  and  tell  me  the  color  of 
the  horses  of  our  foe,  and  may  Allah  burn  his  grandfather." 

"White,"  was  the  answer. 

"Then  we  must  go  south,"  said  the  chief,  "for  in  the  vast 
plains  of  the  desert  the  wind  of  the  white  horse  cannot  stand 
in  a  protracted  chase." 

Again  the  chief  said,  "  My  son,  what  colored  horses  pursue 
us?" 

"Black,  O  my  father!" 

"Then  we  will  go  among  the  stones  and  rocky  ground,  for 
the  feet  of  the  black  horses  are  not  sti"ong." 

A  third  time  the  young  Arab  was  sent  to  the  rear,  and  re- 
ported chestnut  horses. 

"  Then,"  said  the  chief,  "  we  are  lost.  Who  but  Allah  can 
deliver  us  from  the  chegtnut?" 

Dun  or  cream-colored  horses  the  Arabs  consider  woi-thless. 

An  observing  individual  in  a  very  healthy  village,  seeing  the 
sexton  at  work  in  a  hole  in  the  ground,  inquired  what  he  was 
about.  " Digging  a  grave,  sir."  "Digging  a  grave!  Why,  I 
thought  people  didn't  die  often  here.  Do  they?"  "O  no,  sir, 
they  never  die  but  once." 

Mrs.  Leach,  of  Monroe,  Iowa,  recently  ran  away  from  her 
husband  because  he  insisted  upon  hanging  about  the  parlor 
every  time  a  gentleman  came  to  see  her. 


KIND  FACE  AND  GRAY  COAT.  991 

I^iND  Page  and  Gi^ay  ^oat. 


IIY  IMSHTA  THEAMBA. 


There  was  a  shriveled  httle  Frenchman  living  near  our  res- 
ervation, whose  lieart  was  always  warm  toward  us  and  whose 
hands  were  always  full  of  gifts  for  our  necessities.  He  dwelt 
in  that  most  singular  species  of  domicile  called  by  the  Western 
people  a  "dug-out,"  because  mostly  under  ground.  In  fact,  the 
Frenchman's  home  was  simply  a  cellar  hollowed  in  the  side  of 
a  hill,  with  a  roof  of  plain  pine-boards.  It  had  but  one  room. 
Along  one  side  he  had  built  a  narrow  berth  of  rough  boards, 
covered  with  army-blankets,  whereon  he  slept.  At  one  end 
there  was  a  large  fireplace  dug  into  the  hill-side,  with  an  open- 
ing above  for  the  escape  of  the  smoke.  A  rude  table  and  a 
couple  of  camp-stools  composed  his  furniture.  Here  he  had 
lived  for  many  years,  and  strange  stories  were  in  circulation 
among  our  people  as  to  the  secret  of  his  thus  being  content  to 
dwell  away  from  civilization. 

In  appearance  he  was  attractively  comical.  Short,  and  thin, 
and  misshapen,  he  yet  impressed  one  as  possessed  of  wonder- 
ful nerve  and  agility.  In  fact,  few  of  our  young  men  could 
outrun  him,  or  match  him  in  strength.  His  hair  was  long  and 
curly,  falling  in  white  waves  upon  his  neck.  He  wore  a  heavy 
mustache  and  what  he  called  an  "iraperieZ."  When  in  his  ordi- 
nary gait,  he  advanced  by  means  of  a  curious  springing  hop, 
which  invariably  sent  our  younger  people  into  fits  of  laughter. 
His  hands  were  smaW  and  beautiful,  and  he  always  wore  gloves 
upon  them.  Of  their  whiteness  he  was  very  proud.  He  had 
the  strange  habit  of  drawing  his  right  glove  off'  and  putting  it 
rapidly  on  again  while  conversing. 

His  expression  of  face  was  the  most  singular  mixture  of 
grave  roguishness  and  real  kindliness  that  I  have  ever  seen  upon 
a  human  countenance.  The  wrinkles  about  his  eyes  seemed  to 
play  with  the  several  emotions  and  passions.  There  was  some- 
thing exceedingly  attractive  in  his  smile,  and  his  coming  among 
us  was  always  the  signal  for  boisterous  merriment.  Because 
of  the  gentle,  humane  expression  of  his  face,  our  people  had 
given  him  the  name  "Kind  Face."     They  had  given  him  also  a 


992  FICTION. 

place  in  their  hearts,  and  always  reserved  for  him  the  warmest 
corner  around  our  camp-fires. 

It  is  the  greatest  mistake  to  suppose  that  the  Indian  does  not 
appreciate  fun  and  humor.  It  would  be  hard  to  find  a  spot 
where  mirth  and  gladness  are  better  loved  than  they  were  in 
our  simple  cabins  and  upon  our  torch-lit  play-ground.  The 
Indian  is  quick  to  observe  the  play  upon  words,  keen  in  his  en- 
joyment of  a  skillful  repartee,  and  alive  to  the  humorous  in 
every  thing.  It  is  true  we  do  not  exhibit  much  laughter  before 
the  white  people,  but  it  is  only  because  we  shrink  from  their 
ridicule. 

One  evening,  as  dear  Wagh-ta  and  I  sat  in  my  aspen  arbor, 
the  cry  went  up  that  Kind  Face  was  hopping  toward  us.  A 
troop  of  children  ran  out  instantly  from  every  hut,  to  go  forth 
to  meet  him.  They  shouted,  and  screamed,  and  laughed,  caught 
up  handfuls  of  the  fresh  grass  and  tossed  green  wreaths  of  it 
into  the  air,  and  in  every  way  attested  their  joy.  Kind  Face 
saw  them  coming,  and  his  face  at  once  became  one  great  twinkle. 
Onward  the  screaming  company  swept,  and  just  before  they 
reached  him  he  dodged  suddenly  toward  one  side  and  started 
in  his  sidelong  canter  across  the  prairie,  with  the  whole  noisy 
troop  at  his  heels.  He  made  great  show  of  endeavoring  to 
elude  them,  of  being  captured  solely  by  their  superior  speed 
and  endurance,  and  of  being  led  much  against  his  will  into  our 
village.  We  watched  the  sport  with  the  greatest  amusement, 
and  the  faces  of  even  the  sternest  warriors  relaxed  into  smiles 
of  interest  and  pleasure. 

The  chase  thus  happily  consummated,  Kind  Face,  having 
greeted  us  all  heartily,  seated  himself  be^de  the  fire  of  pine- 
boughs  that  crackled  and  blazed  before  the  arbor.  The  con- 
versation turned  upon  the  harvest  of  corn  our  people  had  reason 
to  expect,  the  growth  of  the  cattle,  the  happiness  of  the  young 
members  of  our  tribe,  and  kindred  topics  of  wild  life.  While 
thus  engaged  word  was  brought  to  us  that  Gray  Coat  and  an- 
other white  man  were  approaching,  and  we  had  just  time  to 
flee  into  our  haughty  pride — the  last  piteous  resort  the  white 
man  has  left  us — before  they  were  with  us. 

"Good-evening,  noble  Eagle  Wing,"  the  comfortable  agent 
said  to  my  father;  "my  friend  here  is  anxious  to  come  into  per- 
sonal contact  with  you  and  your  people,  so  as  to  learn  something 


KIND  FACE  AND  GRA  Y  COAT.  993 

of  your  customs  and  manners  before  returning  East.     And  I 

may  venture  to  mention  that  it  lies  in  his  power  to  benefit  your 
tribe  largely,  munificently  iiuU'c<l,  if  it  should  be  his  most  excel- 
lent pleasure  so  to  do." 

"Ahem!"  replied  the  white  man  to  whom  the  agent  hat! 
turned  with  a  pompous  wave  of  the  hand.  "  I  may  further  say 
that  I  have  the  honor  to  occupy  a  seat  in  our  National  Congress, 
as  Senator  from  a  neighboring  State,  and,  most  excellent  Eagle 
Feather — ah!  thank  you!  yes,  Eagle  Wing,  to  be  sure — I  may 
remark  that  I  am  chairman  of  a  committee  sent  out  for  the  ex- 
press purpose  of  examining,  and  reporting  upon,  the  exact  con- 
dition of  affairs  among  our  Indian  wards." 

Wagh-ta  and  I,  to  whom  his  words  were  perfectly  understood 
without  an  interpreter,  were  not  a  little  amused  by  his  grand 
airs  and  swelling  manners. 

"Where  are  the  other  members  of  the  committee?"  inno- 
cently inquired  the  wise  Um-pan-nez-zhe,  who  was  of  our 
number. 

"  Well — ah !  to  tell  the  truth,  they  were  so  greatly  pleased  by 
the  entertainment  afforded  by  the  agent  that  they  were  unable 
to  tear  themselves  from  his  wine-decanter." 

"Think  you  they  can  report  intelligently  of  the  Indian's  ne- 
cessities and  wishes  by  inspecting  the  bottom  of  wine-glasses?" 
inquired  Kind  Face. 

The  Senator  looked  down  at  the  little  Frenchman  as  if  one 
of  his  great  glances  were  certain  death  to  all  triflers,  but  made 
no  reply. 

Chairs  were  produced  for  the  visitors,  and  when  they  were 
seated  a  great  number  of  our  people  gathered  round  to  hear 
what  should  be  said. 

"Ahem!  tell  me,"  the  Senator  demanded  with  a  majestic  wave 
of  his  hand,  "  tell  me,  without  reserve,  what  your  tribe  most 
wishes  and  most  needs." 

"The  protection  of  just  laws,"  my  father  answered. 

"The  what!  Do  I  understand  you?  The  protection  of  law? 
Why,  who  disturbs  you?     Does  not  the  agent  defend  you?" 

"Any  one  may  rob  us  who  wills.  My  child  may  be  mur- 
dered, and  I  cannot  have  the  offender  punished! " 

"  It  is  true,  ahem!  that  our  Indian  policy  is  as  yet  imperfect, 
and  some  cases  of  violence  may  escape  their  proper  punish- 
63 


994  FICTION. 

merit.     I  have  heard  rumors  that  this  is  the  case,  but  have  had 
no  direct  testimony  of  the  fact." 

Our  good  Kind  Face  was  always  strong  in  our  defense,  and 
while  the  Senator  had  been  speaking  I  had  noticed  that  his 
right  glove  was  coming  off  and  being  'thrust  on  with  uncom- 
mon vehemence.  This  was  the  usual  signal  of  combat  with 
him,  and  at  this  point  he  exclaimed: 

"Any  Indian  can  give  you  cases.  The  official  reports  of  the 
agents  are  full  of  them.  Just  a  few  months  since  a  member  of 
this  tribe  was  hired  by  a  white  man  to  chop  wood  for  him  in  a 
secluded  spot  within  a  forest.  The  Indian  was  an  honest,  hard- 
working fellow,  and  we  all  respected  him.  As  he  did  not  re- 
turn at  the  time  expected,  I  went  with  a  few  of  his  friends  to 
ascertain  the  cause  of  his  delay.  We  found  the  poor  fellow 
lying  across  the  log  he  had  been  splitting,  his  heart  pierced  by 
a  rifle-ball.  It  was  winter,  and  there  was  snow  upon  the  ground, 
so  that  we  could  track  the  murderer  from  the  cover  where  he 
had  done  the  stealthy  deed  to  his  home.  We  endeavored  to 
have  him  punished — we  tried  to  have  him  indicted  as  a  dis- 
turber of  the  peace,  if  nothing  more — but,  according  to  the  most 
wise  statute  of  your  Government,  '  No  Indian  can  sue,  or  be 
sued,  or  form  a  party  to  any  suit  in  a  United  States  court,"  and 
we  failed.  That  murdei'er  is  boldly  living  to-day  within  a  day's 
ride  of  us,  and  there  is  no  law  by  which  he  can  be  punished." 

"Be  calm,  my  friend,"  the  Senator  complacentl}'^  said.  "You 
seem  to  be  a  man  of  sense,  and  as  you  can  understand  me,  and 
speak  to  me  in  English,  I  do  not  object  to  having  a  few^  words 
with  you.  It  is  true  that  the  ward-policy,  if  I  may  so  call  it,  of 
our  Government  is  liable  to  the  abuse  you  mention.  But  I 
fancy  the  Indians  would  not  be  better  off  if  they  were  placed 
under  the  protection  of  the  law  and  forced  to  support  them- 
selves. The  Indian  is  lazy  and  indifferent — I  can  speak  unre- 
servedly since  I  speak  in  general  terms — and  is  constitutionally 
opposed  to  self-support." 

"Pardon  me,"  Kind  Face  replied,  as  the  glove  came  off  with 
a  jerk,  "you  are  either  ignorant  or  grossly  misinformed." 

"  I  am  thoroughly  conversant  with  the  condition  of  our  In- 
dian tribes,  as  I  am  chairman  of  the  committee  I  have  men- 
tioned," the  Senator  haughtily  replied,  tipping  backward  in  his 
chair. 


KIND  FACE  AND  U UA  Y  COAT.  995 

"You  must  know,  then,  tliat  out  of  275,000  Indians  in  this 
country,  157,000  —  more  than  half— wear  citizen's  garments. 
You  must  know  that  there  are  219  churches  among  the  tribes, 
with  an  aggregate  membership  of  30,000.  You  must  know 
that  of  the  70  tribes  mentioned  in  a  recent  official  rejjort,  32  are 
stated  to  be  entirely  self-supporting.  You  must  know  that  of 
the  remaining  48  tribes,  44  are  reported  by  the  agents  "as  able 
and  desirous  to  support  themselves  if  the  Government  would 
only  grant  them  the  high  privilege.  Out  of  70  tribes,  there- 
fore, there  are  only  4,  according  to  the  testimony  of  your  oyvn 
official  records,  which  are  not  abundantly  prepared  for  self- 
support." 

"  I  speak  on  general  principles,"  grandly  said  the  Senator. 

"  So  do  I,"  returned  Kind  Face  with  warmth.  "  You  must 
know  that  the  Omahas,  numbering  about  1,100  persons,  culti- 
vate their  farms  with  singular  fidelity;  the  beautiful  sjopes  of 
their  reservation  are  crowned  with  comfortable  frame  dwell- 
ings, and  the  few  tepees  you  still  see  in  the  valleys  would 
speedily  be  displaced  by  houses  if  the  Indians  had  an  assurance 
that  they  will  be  allowed  to  remain  where  they  are.  The  Win- 
nebagoes  are  better  farmers  than  some  of  the  surrounding 
whites,  and  have  a  large  sum  in  the  hands  of  the  Government 
in  the  form  of  a  loan,  as  they  think,  the  interest  on  which,  how- 
ever, they  can  only  with  the  greatest  difficulty  obtain.  This 
tribe,  by  frugality  and  thrift,  has  become  wealthy  in  spite  of  the 
greatest  obstacles  any  community  of  people  has  ever  been 
■obliged  to  contend  with.  Years  ago  they  resided  in  another 
State.  They  had  their  farms  nicely  cultivated,  and  their  stock, 
of  all  descriptions,  was  numbered  by  the  hundred.  They  were 
happy,  peaceful,  wealthy.  But  by  order  of  the  Government 
they  were  taken  to  St.  Louis,  thence  transported  on  flat-boats 
up  the  Missouri  to  a  most  barren  spot  in  Dakota,  where,  among 
the  sand-hills,  without  shelter  or  implements,  they  were  left  to 
their  fate.  The  Government  agents  promised  to  drive  their 
stock  overland  from  their  old  home  to  the  new  reservation,  but 
to  this  day  they  have  not  seen  a  single  head  coming  to  them 
over  the  hills.  After  surveying  the  sand-hills,  and  becoming 
convinced  that  no  support  could  be  wrested  from  them,  they 
worked  their  way  down  into  Nebraska,  and  having  transformed 
a  region  of  wild  soil  into  farms,  it  was  confirmed  to  them  as  a 


996  FICTION. 

reservation.  And  now  in  your  senatorial  wisdom  you  are 
threatening  another  base  robbery  of  them  by  means  of  a  re- 
inoval  to  the  Indian  Territory.  And  look  around  you.  As  you 
came  up  I  was  talking  with  this  industrious  people  as  to  the 
harvests  they  expect  to  gather.  They  have  nearly  1,000  acres 
inider  cultivation;  they  count  their  cattle  by  the  score.  Many 
of  these  young  people  can  read  and  speak  the  English  language 
far  better  than  I  can." 

"  I  must  insist  that  I  speak  generally  when  I  say  that  the 
Indian  chai'acter  is  worthless,"  responded  the  Senator. 

"  Let  us  broaden  our  survey,  then.  One  of  the  ablest  Presi- 
dents the  Mexican  Republic  has  ever  had  was  a  full-blood  In- 
dian. It  was  under  his  far-sighted  statesmanship  that  Mexico 
threw  off  the  yoke  of  Rome  which  had  been  weighing  her 
people  down  in  ignorance,  superstition,  and  vice  ever  since 
Cortez  subjugated  their  ancestors.  Thus  an  Indian  is  the  com- 
bined Washington  and  Luther  of  Mexico,  and  I  say.  All  honor 
to  him!  To  go  a  little  farther  back,  the  history  of  Tennessee  is 
most  suggestive.  The  first  party  which  in  the  old  daj's,  before 
the  Revolution,  fought  as  a  party  for  the  liberty  of  the  United 
States,  being  worsted  in  their  untimely  attempts,  fled  to  the 
wilderness,  were  cordially  received  by  the  Cherokees,  and  from, 
them  obtained  the  tract  of  land  which  now  blooms  as  Tennes- 
see. To  go  still  farther  back:  when  the  eloquent  young  clergy- 
man, Roger  Williams,  was  driven  out  of  Plymouth  Colony  be- 
cause he  had  forecast  the  religious  freedom  for  which  this  Nation 
is  now^  distinguished,  who  received  him  with  open  arms?  All 
the  world  knows  it  was  Canonicus,  the  celebrated  Narragansett 
chief,  who,  with  a  charity  as  pure  as  the  new-fallen  snow  over 
which  the  young  clergyman  fled  to  him,  bade  him  welcome  to 
his  wigwams  and  council-fires.  Thus  an  Indian  gave  the  first 
countenance  and  aflbrded  the  first  harbor  to  the  idea  of  religious 
toleration  in  the  United  States!'' 

A  lad  arrested  a  few  days  ago  for  theft,  when  taken  before 
the  magistrate  and  asked  what  his  occupation  was,  frankly 
answered,  "Stealing."  "Your  candor  astonishes  me,"  said  the 
Judge.  "I  thought  it  would,"  replied  the  lad,  "seeing  how 
many  big  '"uns  there  be  in  the  same  business  as  is  ashamed  to 
own  up  their  trade." 


THE  PEDANTIC  LAWYER.  997 

©HE    ^BDANTIG  LiAWYBI^. 


BY  JOHN  G.  8AXE. 


I  bade  my  lawyer,  Windy,  sue 
My  neighbor  Jones,  for  damage  due 
The  phiintifl',  on  the  valid  ground 
That  he,  said  Jones,  had  put  in  pound 
Unlawfully,  against  the  peace. 
Three  certain  sheep  of  finest  fleece, 
My  property,  and  valued,  say. 
At  twenty  dollars.     "Please  to  lay 
The  damage  high,  and  go  ahead. 
And,  Windy,  make  him  feel,"  I  said, 
"The  statute's  full  and  speedy  force 
On  trespassers."     He  said,  "Of  course!" 
And  six  months  later  made  report — 
The  case  came  up  before  the  court. 
When  Windy's  speech  seemed  nearly  done, 
And  he,  as  yet,  had  scarce  begun 
To  touch  the  matter  in  dispute, 
I — growing  anxious  for  my  suit — 
Said,  in  a  whisper,  "Don't  forget 
You  haven't  touched  the  case  as  yet; 
You've  talked,  I  know,  an  hour  or  more 
About  the  statutes  made  before 
The  Norman  Conquest,  and  have  brought 
Before  us  what  Justinian  taught, 
And  Coke  on  Littleton;  have  gone 
All  through  the  'Code  Napoleon;' 
And,  very  learnedly,  no  doubt. 
Have  shown  his  honor  all  about 
The  statutes  in  the  reign  of  Anne; 
And  how  the  leading  cases  ran 
Before  Lord  Blank  held  so  and  so; 
Now  let  the  Habeas  Corpus  go, 
And  ere  the  Court  falls  fast  asleep. 
Do  say  a  word  about  the  sheep!" 


998  FICTION. 

fl    Fr^ENGH    CQAI^I^IAGE. 


BY  CHABL-OTTE  M.  YONGE. 


Then  1  knew  that  I  had  been  taken  in  by  the  piince's  wicked 
trick,  and  that  my  husband  was  to  be  the  young  viscount — not 
the  old  uncle!  I  do  not  think  that  this  was  much  comfort  to- 
me at  the  moment,  for,  all  the  same,  I  was  going  into  a  strange 
countiy,  away  from  every  one  I  had  ever  known. 

But  I  did  take  courage  to  look  up  under  my  eyelashes  at  the 
form  I  was  to  see  with  very  different  eyes.  M.  de  Bellaise  was 
only  nineteen,  but  although  not  so  tall  as  my  father  or  brother, 
he  had  already  that  grand  military  bearing  which  is  only  ac- 
quired in  the  French  service;  and  no  wonder,  for  he  had  been 
three  years  in  the  Regiment  de  Conde,  and  had  already  seen 
two  battles  and  three  sieges  in  Savoy,  and  now  had  omy  leave 
of  absence  for  the  winter  before  rejoining  his  regiment  in  the 
Low  Counti'ies. 

Yet  he  looked  as  bashful  as  a  maiden.  It  was  true  that,  as 
my  father  said,  his  bashfulness  was  as  great  as  an  Englishman's. 
Indeed,  he  had  been  bred  up  at  his  great-uncle's  chateau  in  An- 
jou,  under  a  strict  abbe,  who  had  gone  with  him  to  the  war,  and 
from  whom  he  was  only  now  to  be  set  free  upon  his  marriage. 

He  had  scarcely  ever  spoken  to  any  lady  but  his  old  aunt — 
his  parents  had  long  been  dead — and  he  had  only  two  or  three 
times  seen  his  little  sister  through  the  grating  of  her  convent; 
so,  as  he  afterward  confessed,  nothing  but  his  military  drill  and 
training  bore  him  through  the  affair.  He  stood  upright  as  a 
dart,  bowed  at  the  right  place,  and  in  due  time  signed  his  name 
to  the  contract,  and  I  had  to  do  the  same. 

Then  there  ensued  a  great  state  dinner,  where  he  and  I  sat  to- 
gether; but  neither  of  us  spoke  to  the  other,  and  when,  as  I  was 
trying  to  see  the  viscount  under  my  eyelashes,  I  caught  his 
eyes  trying  to  do  the  same  by  me,  I  remember  my  cheeks  flam- 
ing all  over,  and  I  think  his  must  have  done  the  same,  for  my 
father  burst  suddenly  out  into  a  laugh  without  apparent  cause, 
though  he  tried  to  check  himself  when  he  saw  my  mother's 
vexation. 

When  all  was  over  she  highly  lauded  the  young  gentleman, 
declaring  that  he  was  an  example  of  the  decorum  with  which 
such  matters  were  conducted  in  France,  and  when  my  father 


A  FRENCH  MARRIAGE.  999 

observed  that  he  should  prefer  a  little  more  fire  and  animation, 
she  said,  "Truly,  my  lord,  one  would  think  you  were  of  mere 
English  extraction,  that  you  should  prefer  the  rude  habits  of  a 
farmer  or  milkmaid  to  the  reserve  of  a  true  noble  and  lady  of 
quality." 

"  Well,  dame,  I  promised  that  you  should  have  it  your  own 
way  with  the  poor  lass,"  said  my  father,  "  and  I  see  no  harm  in 
the  lad;  but  I  own  I  should  like  to  know  more  of  him,  and 
Meg  would  not  object  cither.  It  was  not  the  way  I  took  thee, 
Margaret." 

"  I  shall  never  make  you  understand  that  a  widow  is  altogeth- 
er a  different  thing,"  said  my  mother. 

I  suppose  they  never  recollected  that  I  could  hear  every  word 
they  said,  but  I  was  full  in  view  of  them,  and  of  course  I  was 
listening  most  anxiously  for  all  I  could  gather  about  my  new 
life.  If  I  remember  right,  it  was  an  envoy-extraordinary  with 
whom  the  marquis  and  his  ncphdw  had  come,  and  their  stay 
was  therefore  very  short,  so  that  we  were  married  after  a  very 
few  days  in  the  Qiieen's  Chapel,  by  her  own  almoner. 

I  suppose  I  smiled  a  little  with  my  conscious  bliss,  for  this 
strange  young  princess  hastily  asked:  ''Did  you  love  him?  I 
mean  before  you  were  married." 

"  O  no,"  I  said,  glad  to  disavow  what  was  so  shocking  in  my 
new  coimtry. 

On  one  occasion  Charles  Dickens  was  upholding  the  theory 
that  whatever  trials  and  difficulties  might  stand  in  a  man's  path 
there  is  always  something  to  be  thankful  for.  "  Let  me,  in  proof 
thereof,"  said  Dickens,  '-relate  a  story:  Two  men  were  to  be 
hanged  at  Newgate  for  murder.  The  morning  arrived;  the  hour 
approached;  the  bell  of  St.  Sepulchers  began  to  toll;  the  con- 
victs were  pinioned;  the  procession  was  formed;  it  advanced 
to  the  fatal  beam;  the  ropes  were  adjusted  around  the  poor 
men's  necks;  there  were  thousands  of  motley  sight-seers  of  both 
sexes,  of  all  ages,  men,  women  and  children,  in  front  of  the 
scaffold — when,  just  at  that  second  of  time,  a  bull,  which  was 
being  driven  to  Smithfield,  broke  his  rope  and  charged  the  mob 
right  and  left,  scattering  people  every-where  with  its  horns. 
Whereupon  one  of  the  condemned  men  turned  to  his  equally 
unfortunate  companion  and  quietly  observed,  'I  say,  Jack,  it's 
a  good  thing  we  ain't  in  that  crowd!' " 


1000  FICTION. 

r^II^AM   f^AYS   IN   StI^ATPOI^D. 

Once  I  journeyed  while  the  mavis 

O'er  the  English  meadows  sang; 
It  was  beauteous  summer  weather — 

All  the  I'oads  .with  music  rang. 

Hiram  Hays  was  my  companion — 
Straight  from  Boston  he  had  come — 

Purse  as  long  as  John  J.  Astor's, 
Head  as  hollow  as  a  drum. 

Toward  the  leafy  lanes  of  Warwick 

Merrily  the  stage-coach  flew; 
How  I  clapped  my  hands  and  shouted. 
"  Soon  in  Stratford  we'll  be  due!  " 

"What  of  that?"  asked  weary  Hiram. 
"  Shakespeare's  county!  glorious  Will! 
We  shall  see  the  spire  of  Avon 
When  we  mount  up  yonder  hill. 

"There  his  home  was;  there  his  grave  is; 
There  his  fancies  grew  sublime; 
There  he  plumed  his  mighty  pinions, 
Built  his  fame  up  for  all  time." 

"Drive  on  faster!     I  sha'n't  stop  there!"" 

Muttered  Mr.  Hiram  Hays; 
"Shakespeare  never  would  be  thought  of 

If  he  hadn't  writ  them  plays."' 

Some  of  the  clerks  were  waiting  in  the  Treasury  Depart- 
ment for  the  opening  of  business.  One  said  to  the  company, 
"Who  is  the  shortest  man  mentioned  in  the  Bible?"  The  old 
Joe  Millers  were  all  exhausted.  "Nehemiah  (knee-high-miah), 
Bildad  the  Shuhite  (shoe-height)."  To  all  answers  the  clerk 
replied  "No."  "We  give  it  up,"  was  the  response.  "Peter," 
was  the  reply.  "Peter!"  they  all  cried;  "he  was  a  stout,  large, 
athletic  man."  "Can't  help  it.  He  was  the  shortest  man  I  ever 
read  of  in  the  Bible.  He  said  he  had  neither  silver  nor  gold, 
and  a  man  is  jiretty  short  when  he  hasn't  any  money." 


INDEX. 


Africa,  Playthings  In 42 

At  the  Fireside m 

Asklug  Questions 00 

Artist,  The  Unknown 81 

Advice  to  a  Young  Man 100 

Associates?  Who  are  Your 105 

Advice  to  a  lioy ^ 119 

An  Ignorant  Scholar 142 

Ask  Others 150 

Artless  Child's-talk _ 167 

Advice,  Senslhle 167 

Atmosphere,  Home « 169 

Abbott,  J.  S.C 177,  612 

Attractions  of  Home 190 

Art  of  Being  Agreeable 210 

Aid  One  Another „ 211 

At  Fourscore 231 

American  Schools 2.15 

Ammonia  in  the  Household 265 

Apple-pies,  Dried 268 

Ants,  To  Destroy 280 

Arrow-root  Sauce „ 282 

Apple  Dumplings 285 

Acconii)lishment«,  Female 296 

Advice  to  the  Ladies,  Pointed 321 

Amusement 331 

American  Girl,  The  Model 334 

Amusements 340 

Actions,  Honorable 373 

Affability 385 

Afraid  to  Try '389 

Americans,  Cold-blooded 414 

Agassiz,  Louis  J.  R 416,  514 

Arkausaw,  Khvme  for 423 

Agreement,  Their 433 

Average  Defined 4'M 

Advantage,  A  Married  Woman's 440 

All-wool  Shirt,  Song  of  the 441 

Andover  Student  Suspended 450 

American  I^eaders 451 

America's  Discoverers,  Fate  of 405 

Allison,  William  B 468 

Anthony,  Henry  B 472 

American  Literati 474 

Aldrich,  Thomas  B 494 

Allibone,  Samuel  A 495 

Ames,  Mrs.  Mary  Clemmer 497 

Allen,  Mr.s.  Elizabeth  Akers 499 

Alcott,  I./onlsa  Mav 499 

Alcott,  William  Alex.,  M.D 500 

Adams,  William  T 505 

Arthur,  T.  S .'>05 

Abbott,  Jacob 512 

Audubon,  John  James 517 

Allen,  Nathan 518 

Almanacs 540 

Almanac,  An  Old 542 

Authorship,  The  Labor  of 543 

Auam,  The  Treasury  of 546 

Atlanta,  First  Name  of 555 

'Africa,  Central 563 

Abbey,  Westminster 569 

American  Labor,  History  of 605 

Animal  Intelligence 611 

Animals,  Intelligence  of 620 


Albatrow,  Tbe 6tt 

Alligator  Hunting 6S7 

Ants , (MS 

AnU  and  Their  Curious  Ways M< 

Adventure  with  a  Lioness 6M 

African  Antelopes 671 

Animals,  longevity  of 672 

Art,  Solence  Contrasted  with 675 

Animals,  The  Pulse  of 606 

Aromatic  Beverage,  The 697 

Appetites,  Natural 717 

Alphabet,  The 71» 

Aspirations,  Youthful 721 

Africa,  South,  Kama.stone 7M 

Adventure,  A  Ilcmarkable „ 758 

Adventure,  Tiger 767 

Astonish  the  Natives,  Trying  to._ „..  790 

Advice,  Conimon-8en.se 791 

Alcohol,  The  Science  of 821 

Adjustment 8:53 

Abel,  .Song  of,  in  Heaven 837 

Angels,  Smiling 844 

Athel.sts,  Young 802 

Atwood,  Kcv.  E.  8 868 

Arthur,  W 876 

Alarm,  Deaf  to  an 881 

Addres.s,  A  Winning 887 

Arbitrations 916 

Apprenticeship,  Limit  of 916 

Agreements  and  Contracts,  Forms  of 917 

Angel  Sleep,  The 973 

Art  of  B<H)k-maklug,  The 984 

An  Arab  Story 990 

Babv  Sleeps 26 

Brave  Bov,  A 32 

Baby,  Sefling  the 41 

Bov,  Only  a..: 46 

Baby's  First  Birthdav 52 

Boy,  Mamma's  Baddish 56 

Boys,  Read  and  Heed „ 67 

Bu"sines.s,  Cash  System  in„ 79 

Bu.sine.ss  Boys,  Our 89 

Bad  Habit.s 90 

Bovsand  Girls,  Rules  for '  99 

BuVdette,  Robert  J 100 

Boys'  Patience , 114 

Be  Studious , 116 

Book,  The  First „ 119 

Boy,  Advice  to  a 119 

Book-learning  not  Education„ 121 

Book  a  Living  Voice 141  • 

Bad  Boys 168 

Bvgravc,  Hilarv 189 

Be  of  Good  Cheer _ 202 

Books  for  the  Family „ 216 

Blessing  of  a  Home „ 218 

Business  Hours,  After....; 218 

Books,  Benefit  of 219 

Bible  and  Newspaper 224 

Barnes,  Albert 227 

Benefits  of  a  Change 233 

Baby  has  Gone  to  School _ 236 

Bed,  Airing  the _ 262 

Bread  and  Butter 266 


(1001) 


1002 


INDEX. 


Bleeding,  To  Stop 267 

Bread,  Mixing 273 

Biscuits,  Delightful 273 

Bread,  Corn 273 

Biscuits,  Sallies' 274 

Bread,  Home-made 274 

Batter-pudding,  Baked 275 

Boston  Soft  Ginger-bread 276 

Bread,  Dyspepsia 278 

Bulbs 280 

Bed-bugs,  To  Exterminate 280 

Bread,  Improve  the  Crust  of 282 

Beef,  Dried,  Rule  for 283 

Beefsteak,  Sauce  for 283 

Bread-toast  for  Sick 283 

Barley-gruel  for  Sick .' 284 

Bed-room,  Shelf  for 287 

Borax-water  for  Toilet 288 

Boys,  Good  Habits 290 

Browning,  Mrs 298 

Beware  of  Rubbish 299 

Byron's  Corsair,  Quotation 300 

Bill  Arp  on  Daughters 304 

Bangs,  Girls  Who  Wear , 307 

Buxton,  Charles 310 

Bacon,  Lord 313 

Burns  at  Church 317 

Bride's  Casket,  The 328 

Beautiful  and  True,  The 348 

Book-critics 356 

Burdette,  Sir  Francis 359 

Broidery  Work 362 

Beautiful  Ulustration 365 

Bov,  That,  Changed 371 

Beautiful  Thought 379 

Books,  Acquaintance  with 384 

Bachelor,  One  of  Many 386 

Beauties  Unseen 387 

Bright  Side,  Ix)ok  at  the 390 

Book  Agent,  The 395 

Barty  Willard 400 

Brooklyn  Bridge,  Celebrating 424 

Babv,  DotSchmall  Leetle 429 

Boy  and  the  Bee,  The 431 

Bread,  Chief  Use  of 431 

Boy,  A  Malicious 436 

Breaking  it  Gently 441 

Boy's  Fishing  and  Heroism 446 

Bayard,  Thomas  Francis 466 

Breese,  Sidney  V 467 

Benton,  Thomas  H 470 

Baker,  Gen.  Edward  D 472 

Bryant,  William  Cullon 476 

Bancroft,  George,  LL.D 478 

Burritt,  Elihu 482 

Barnard,  Henry,  LL.D 483 

Beecher,  Henry  Ward 490,  899 

Brooks,  Noah 503 

Bennett,  Emerson 510 

Bowditch,  Nathaniel 513 

Broadus,  John  A.,  D.D.,  LL.D 521,  871 

Boyd,  Robert,  D.D 521 

Bushnell,  Horace,  D.D 523 

Beecher,  Lyman,  D.D 526 

Book,  The  Most  Curious 545 

Black  Death,  The 546 

Bell,  A  Wonderful 547 

Bridges,  High 548 

Bridge,  New  York  and  Brooklyn 548 

Bridge,  Suspension 549 

Beau  Brummell 552 

Black  Hole,  The 567 

Bridge  of  Lodi.The 578 

Bentley,  Itcv.  David  N 592 

Boys  Again 604 

Birds  Cannot  Smell 625 

Birds  Slceiiing 628 

Birds  Riding  on  Cranes 632 


Bird,  Largest  English 63? 

Bees 648 

Bee,  The  Reckless , 651 

Baby,  Elephants  Minding  the 659 

Bears,  Stories  About 666 

Beast,  A  Queer  Little 674 

Bible,  Science  and  the 685 

Brass-plating,  New 693 

Blind  People  Cheerful 693 

Blood,  Inhabitants  of  the 695- 

Beverage,  The  Aromatic 697 

Beads,  Venetian,  How  Made 703 

Bursting  a  Gun 714 

Baggage-smashers 735 

Barnum,P.  T 751 

Brittany,  In 759 

Banditti,  Two  Romances  of 781 

Balmy  Sleep 819 

Blues,  The 824 

Boy's  Rebuke,  A 835 

Berkeley,  Bishop , 835^ 

Bible,  The 841 

Blows 844 

Boy's  Logic,  A 845 

Bearers,  Myrrh 846 

Brainard..." 847 

Burden-bearing 848- 

Bearing  the  Cross '. 851 

Beautiful  Legend 860 

Bible,  AValter  Scott's 864 

Bible  Precepts,  The  Majesty  of 868 

Beautiful  Incident,  A 868 

Bible  in  Peru,  The 877 

Boomerang,  A  Bad  Heart  is  a SSZ' 

Bible,  The  Chopped 891 

Business,  Boy  Doing  the  Father's 906 

Bonds 916 

Bills  of  Sale 917 

Bail 918 

Breaches  of  Trust 940 

Bonner,  Sherwood 950^ 

Book-making,  The  Art  of 984 

Children,  Celebrated 5- 

Child,  Thought  of  Peter 28 

Child  and  the  Queen,  The 30 

Clever  Physician,  The 3& 

Chirp  and  Hop 44 

Choosing  a  Kitten 49 

Changed  the  Rule 53- 

Celebrating  the  Fourth  of  July 55- 

Capital,  If  I  Only  Had 6* 

Cash  Svstcni  in  Business 79 

Christian,  Rev.  J.  T 92- 

Crooked  and  Straight 101 

College  Men 129 

Colleges,  Names  of 130 

College-bred  Public  Men 132 

Class,  How  to  Teach  a 1.50' 

Children,  Rules  for  Training 165 

Craik,  Mrs.  Muloch 173 

Christian  Parentage 180 

Child,  Overtaxing  a 181 

Children,  Love  the 183 

Children,  Happy- 183 

Cheerfulness,  Family 200 

Contentment   201 

Cheer,  Be  of  Good 202 

Cheap  Pleasures 205 

Consequences,  Impress  Certainty  of 206 

Cowper,  William 211 

Children  and  Conversation 216 

Calculation,  A  Practical 216 

Criticism,  Evil 216 

Campbell,  Emma 217 

Channing,  William  Ellery,  D.D 219 

Change,  Benefits  of 233 

Careful,  Be 23G 


INDEX. 


1003 


CookinfC,  Philosophy  of 247 

ConTcrsation,  Table 383 

Com  for  Ui bio _ 281 

Cod-IUli,  To  Keep ^M 

Chickens,  I'rled ; W 

Chickon-pio  360 

Cold  SIhw „ 872 

OruHt,  Making „ 278 

Corn-bread 273 

Cookies „ ^ „ 27« 

Crullers „ 276 

(^ko,  Kpoiige „ 276 

Cake,  Cotlco „.„ 276 

Cake  Without  Egjjs _ 276 

Cake,  Nut 276 

Cake,  Famous  Fruit 276 

Cake,  FlK .• 276 

C«ndy,  Honey 277 

t^udy,  Coooanut ; 277 

Candy,  Nut , 277 

Candy,  Moliisscs 277 

Candy,  Tally „ 277 

<'andy,  Chocolate „ 277 

Charcoal,  Use  of * 280 

Creaui,  Substitute  for 282 

Cake,  Baking  in  Layers 282 

Candy,  Via ! 283 

("ahjnct  riiotoftraphs.  Case  for 288 

Chicken  Cholera,  Cause  of 289 

Conjfort.s.  Novelty  in 290 

Character  and  Dress 298 

Change,  The 298 

<>)nversation 313 

Casket,  The  Bride's 328 

Caton,  Charles  H :J30 

Censure  and  Criticism 338 

(Aaracter,  Token  of  a  Strong _ :152 

Country  Cousins 369 

Civilization,  A  Hindoo  Dream 369 

Cemeteries,  Beautiful 374 

Children,  A  Love  for 380 

Complaining,  People 385 

Cumiiiing,  Dr.  John 390 

Courting-sticks 40:{ 

Cljinese  Law 406 

Conscience,  A  Convict's 411 

Croakers 412 

College  Kducation 41»> 

Canine  Pills 420 

Cured,  How  He  was 42; 

Curiosities,  American 424 

Candid  Reply,  A 434 

Calverly,  C.  S 4:« 

Conservatory  Voung  Lady,  The 4:5lj 

Child's  Kevcnge,  A 43" 

Cartwright,  Peter,  Anecdote  of 445 

Charge  of  the  Dress  Brigade 440 

Clav,  Webster,  and  Calhoun 461 

Calhoun,  Clay,  and  Webster 461 

Characteristics  of  Prentiss 463 

Crittenden,  John  J 469 

Chandler,  Zachariah 469 

Corwin,  Thomas 472 

Carpenter,  Matthew 474 

Cooper,  James  Fennimore 475 

Child,  Mrs.  Lydia  Maria 480 

Cary,  Alice 487 

Cary,  PUoebe 488 

Curtis,  George  William 489 

Coppee,  Henry,  LL.D 492 

Conway,  Moncure  D 498 

Clemens,  Samuel  L 509 

Carleton,  Will 510 

Children's  Writers 511 

Cushing,  Caleb 519 

Choate,  Rufus 519 

Conant,  Thos.  J.,  D.D .521 

Campbell,  Alexander,  D.D 523 


CrUinan,  E.  B..  D.D 

CrtiBado  of  Children,  Tb«.... 

Chlncdo  Invt-ntlonii ». 

CurlouK  Book,  The  Moat 

Character  i>f  the  Irelandera., 


8M 

, tn 

MX 

Stf 

6H0 

Canton,  Th«-  I'eople  of Ki» 

VMW,  MliicHand  Mlner»of ftM 

Calcutta,  The  Black  Uole  of M7 

City,  The  Old.-itl ^ .W7 

Cruelty  and  Horoinm  _ A72 

CruNnIc,  The  First 67» 

Costlv  Clothes 576 

Central  City,  Colorado M2 

Charlotte  Corday SW 

Cos,  Lilandof > 600 

Chicago  Economist,  A 601 

Clocks,  Feline » <IZt 

Condor,  The 62» 

Colugo,  The » 620 

Crow,  A  Pet 627 

Cunning  Hawk,  A 628 

Canary  Birds 6a» 

Cranes,  Birds  Riding  on  the  Backs  of 632 

Capercailiie,  The 6:«2 

Crabs „ 633 

Cooper,  Sarah 63S 

Craw-tish 636 

Curious  Ways,  Ants  and  Their 646 

Cobras,  Tame 653 

Curious  Facts  About  Snakes 65G 

Camelopard,  or  Giraffe,  The 664 

Coffee  as  a  I^everage 697 

Coffee-cup,  Poison  in  the 699 

Celluloid  705 

Charcoal,  Uses  of 709 

Cork,  .\merican 71U 

Congo  River,  Iinjjortance  of 720 

Cossack,  Trusting  a 743 

Corraled 744 

Cannon-t>all  in  a  I>og 790 

Caboose,  A  Journey  In  a 7(51 

Cox,  Father 7M 

Captive,  The  Indian 763 

Caught  by  a  Shark 779 

Castaway's,  Six  South  Sea  Island 788 

Ojniniou-sensc  Advice 7DI 

Children,  Management  of 90n 

Charcoal.  Us<>s  of 80* 

Chloral  and  Bromide  of  Potassium 812 

Cause  of  Pneumonia 812 

Carbolic  Acid  and  Turpentine Sl.'V 

Consumption , 81ft 

Cold  B.ith,  The 825 

Courtiers 888 

Character  and  Doctrine 83ft 

Cecil 83ft 

Cup,  Emptv 839 

Christ  Regards  the  Brutes « 84S 

Christian,  To  Walk  as  a 848 

Christ-like  Deed,  A '. 849 

Charitv,  Faith,  and  Hope 84!> 

Cross,  fearing  the 851 

Coincidence,  Kemarkable 854 

Christ  is  the  Truth 856 

Christians,  Happiest 86S 

Come  Unto  Me 866 

Christianity  is  not  I.aw 866 

Christian,  Parsee,  and  Jew,  The 879 

Christians,  Rules  for „ 880 

Convict's  Sjwech,  A „ 882 

Chopped  Bible,  The 891 

Committee,  A  Church 893 

Character,  Personal 897 

Christmiis-box,  Compared 901 

Christianity,  Growth  of 904 

Common  liiw 907 

Contracts,  Forms  of  Agreements  and...   917 
Children,  Minor,  and  Guardians 918 


1004 


INDEX. 


Contract  and  Sale,  Law  of 930 

€adi  and  Mohammedan  Monk,  The 981 

Door  Open,  The 28 

Didn't  1,  Dan? 37 

Disease,  A  Sad 39 

Doll  that  Spoke,  Story  of  the 57 

Day  too  Late,  A 76 

DiSerence,  The 77 

Do  not  Drink 82 

Despond,  Never 109 

Delusion,  A 110 

Drawing  Trade Ill 

Do  Something 112 

Daddyism,  No 114 

Dead  Languages,  A  Use  for 117 

Don't  Dawdle 120 

Deaf  Scholars 137 

Debts,  Paying 172 

Daughters,  A  Mother  and  Her 173 

Don't  Let  the  Children  Whine 176 

Desire  and  Purpose,  A  New 184 

Dionysius 185 

Domestic  Miserv 200 

Debts,  Family..' 213 

Dana,  Richard  Henry 222,  475 

Debt,  Too  Heavy  With 230 

Dinner-table 251 

Drudging  Women 2.i8 

Dried  Apple-pies 268 

Doughnuts 275 

Drink,  A  Sour 278 

Dyspepsia  Bread 278 

Du.st-pan,  A 279 

Dumplings,  Apple 285 

Dessert,  Apple 286 

Dress,  Little  Value  of 298 

Dancing 299 

Daughters,  Bill  Arp  on 304 

Development,  Lacking 308 

Disraeli 313 

Declaration,  The 321 

Deans,  Jeanie 323 

Dyer,  E.  P 327 

Decision 368 

Do  Your  Best 375 

Diamonds,  A  Princess's 387 

Distrust 388 

Devil,  Give  the,  His  Due 400 

Divinitv-stu dent's  Trick,  A 410 

Ducks,  Stolen 418 

Door,  Only  to  Shut  the 427 

Dot  Schmall  Leetle  Baby 429 

Diplomate,  The  Little 431 

Dogs  in  Church 434 

Doctor,  Joking  the 439 

Deaf  and  Dumb,  Mistake 444 

Deacons,  The  Two 445 

Dutchman's  Lecture,  A 445 

Dress  Brigade,  Charge  of 446 

Devil  Fishing,  The 448 

Drunken  Man,  Valuables  Kept  for 450 

Discoverers,  Fate  of 465 

Dana,  Richard  Henry,  Jr 484 

Duyckinck,  Evert  A 494 

Dodge,  Mary  Abigail 512 

Dodge,  Mary  Mapes 512 

Denominational  Religious  Writers 521 

Dexter,  Henrv  M.,D.D 523 

Description  of  Jesus  Christ 554 

Dwarf,  A  Famous 556 

Dismal  Swamp,  The 566 

Days,  The  Good  Old 581 

Discovery,  Modern 587 

Draught,  Eflects  of 594 

Development  of  Man 690 

Druiilteuuess  Inherited 693 

Deaf  Mutes,  Inherited 693 


Diver  Sees,  What  the 701 

Double  Stars 711 

Davis,  C.  F 772 

Di.sease,  Sequels  of 813 

Dying  Persons,  Unconsciousness  of 820 

Doctrine  and  (Character 836 

Death 836 

Duties 8:?6 

Disputes,  Settle  with  Prayer 8:w 

Divine  Service 847 

Diamond  and  Ix>adstone 860 

Deaf  to  an  Alarm 881 

Duties  and  Events 882 

Death,  Why  do  Christians  Die? 88:j 

Doctrine,  Sound 897 

Death,  Both  Fear  and  Desire 906 

Devotion,  Easy  and  Hard 906 

Digging  a  Grave 990 

Enthusiasm,  A  Scholar's 87 

Experience 88 

Engineer,  A  Japanese 115 

Educated,  Why  He  is 116 

Educatioh  Not  Book-learning 121 

Elementary  Education 131 

Education,  Value  of 133 

Errors  and  Faults 177 

Evil  Criticism ._.  216 

Example  in  the  Family .".  221 

Economy 233 

Economv  in  the  Familv 24.S 

Elm  Orlou ' 258 

Eggs,  Boiled 270 

Eggs,  How  to  Keep 270 

Eggs,  Poached ' 270 

Eggs,  To  Find  Out  if  Good 270 

Eggs  for  Hatching  280 

Evangeline 308 

Elizabeth,  Queen 314 

Eliot,  George 319 

Elements  ot  a  True  Marriage SiO 

Excellent  Thing  in  AVoniau,An 332 

Education,  A  (iirl's 340 

ICducation,  Advantages  of 340 

Eden  Desired 363 

Eden,  Garden  of 379 

Eccentric  Answer,  An 402 

Early  Rising 412 

Evidence,  Balancing 425 

Excusable 430 

Educated  Jurors 430 

Engaged,  He  Was 439 

Elder's  Predicament,  The 449 

Edmunds,  George  F 474 

Everett,  Edward,  LL.I).,  D.C.L 476 

Emerson,  Ralph  Waldo,  LL.D 480 

Evans,  Augusta  J 501 

Eggle-ston,  Edward,  D.D 509 

Edison,  Thomas  A 51.". 

Evarts,  William  M 520 

Era  of  News,  The 54;! 

El  Mahdi 554 

Economist,  A  Chicago 601 

Electric  Eel,  An 638 

Elephant,  The 658 

Elephants  Minding  the  Baby 659 

Elephant,  A  Famous 660 

Egg-laying  Mammal,  An 66!) 

Earth-worms 694 

Empty  Cup 839 

Earnestness  and  Punctuality 884 

Edwards,  Tryon 892 

Enemies  Shaking  Hands 900 

Eclip.se,  The  Sun's,  Compared 906 

Express  and  Railroad  Conipanies 935 

Eaton,  Arthur  Wentworth 973 

Feast  of  Lights  in  India 43 


INDEX. 


1005 


Fireside,  At  the 

Kairy-folk _ , 

Fniirth  of  July  (>;leliration 

KIriii 

Fitr^{e^alll,  O.  P.,  1>.D.,  110,  181,  826,  724, 

Forgot 

Fri(Mld!•hip^< 

First  H<M)k,  The „......».. 

Forces  Ueserved 

Fault  of  the  A({e,  The 

Father  uii<l  8oii,  Intimacy  Between 

Farewell,  A  Mother's 

Faults  and  Krrors .- 

Family  a  School,  The 

Family  Worship .' 

Family  Unity,  I..iii-k  of._ 

Frettinn .'. 

Family  Cheerl'ulnesii „ 

Farningham,  M 

Fretful  Man,  The 

Family  Debts 

Family,  Ilelns  for 

Family,  lioolcs  for  the 

Family  Prayer,  Henelit  of 

Family,  Fxamplt!  in 

Family  Altar,  The 

Family  Meeting,  The 

Father  is  Coming 

Fourscore,  At 

Family  Table,  The 

Flowers  on  the  Table 

Flannels ; 

Food  for  Old  People 

Fertilizer  for  Plant-s 

Foot,  Nail  in  the 

Felon,  (.'lira  for 

Finger  King,  To  Remove 

Food  for  Sick  in  Summer 

Fruit-loaf,  Very  Nice 

Flowers,  To  Keep  Fresh 

Fruit-cans,  Rubner  Rings  for 

Female  Accomplishments 

Flattery 

Female  Society 

Forces,  Hidden , 

Freedom,  Nature  Cries  for 

Flowers _ 

Field,  Eugene 

Financial  Philosophy 

Forgetful  Child 

Finiiing  the  Screw 

Fruit-jars 

Frank  Acceptance 

Five,  The  Half  of 

First  Man,  The 

Feather,  .Stick  in  the 

Fishing,  The  Devil 

Flogging,  Italian  System  of 

Fessenden,  William  P 

Fields,  James  T 

Fanny  Fern 

Fuller,  Margaret. ..I 

Foster,  Stephen  Collins 

Forney,  John  W 

Franklin,  Benjamin 

Foster,  R.  S.,  D.D 


Franklin's  Re's. 
Franco-Prussian  War,  The.. 

Fanatics,  Oriental 

Fruit  from  a  Small  Seed 

Feline  Clocks .■: 

Frog  in  Ice^  A 

Frog,  A  Friendly _... 

Fish,  Hunt'ng  with  Dogs 

Fun  with  a  Spider 

Fun,  Rats  Having 

Field  of  the  Telephone 

Fish  Supply,  Russian , 


54 
S5 

106 

754 
118 
117 
119 
136 
149 
166 
174 
177 
186 
196 
197 
199 
200 
207 
211 
213 
215 
21H 
218 
221 
225 
226 
229 
231 
2.50 
252 
262 
266 
280 
280 
280 
281 
282 
285 
289 
290 
296 
3U 
320 
341 
.351 
365 
382 
404 
412 
421 
428 
429 
432 
437 
445 
448 
448 
44)9 
488 
492 
503 
504 
510 
513 
.525 
545 
546 
574 
.586 
621 
(BU 
640 
♦>41 
651 
674 
686 
702 


Finding  n  Needle „ 715 

ForeMt,  The  Little  Old  Man  in  the 7M 

Father  Cox 754 

Food  for  the  8ick-ro«jm MM 

Fruit,  Healthfulnewiof _ 8M 

Faith,  Hope,  and  Charity 849 

Faith,  The  Object  of     ..  8<3 

Father  and  Mother,  Honor  tbjr 86S 

Flatterers,  When  they  Meet VSA 

Fleeing  from  Sin 875 

Faith 875 

Future,  Tlie 877 

Fighting  and  Praying.... 889 

Faith,  Christian,  A  Acture  of 904 

Fiction,  Value  of... 941 

Flagujan's  Storv,  The 960 

Fate,  The  Hanci  of 96a 

Frank  Admission,  A 99ft 

French  Marriage,  A ^ 99» 

(iood  Manners „ 31,  209 

(ientleman,  To  Make  a 104 

Grow  in,  Time  to 120 

Governess,  The  New 145 

'(ientlemen,  Making  Boys 164 

Girls'  Manners _ 164 

Good  Language ^ 16.'> 

(Jood-brceding 191 

(jood,  Ix>ok  for  the 202 

Gardening,  Window 2.56 

Gem-pans 2TS 

(Jinger-bread,  Boston 276 

(iardcn,  U.ses  of  Soot  in 281 

Griddle-cakes,  Graham 2«.t 

(iruel,  Barley 284 

(irape-jiim 284 

Glass,  To  Divide 289 

Girls,  Idleness  of 302 

Girls'  Work  at  Home .Wt 

Girls  Who  Wear  Bangs 307 

Girls,  For  the 309 

Girls,  Two  Kinds  of 311 

Garibaldi,  Anecdote  of 322 

(iay,  Mary  A 323 

Girl,  The  Model  American-. 334 

Girl,  Old-fashioned „ 335 

Girls  May  Plea.se,  How 336 

(Jraves  and  Cilley  Duel 359 

Griefs,  Silent 364 

(loldsmith,  Oliver 368 

Goethe - ;{81 

Goo<l-bye 384 

Gems  and  Flowers  Unseen„ 387 

(tasconade  and  Hoaxing 401 

(Jot  His  Answer 402 

Green  Couple,  A 42:t 

<¥old-ftsh,  Fresh  Water  for _ 42.5 

Gently,  Breaking  it 441 

Garland,  Augustus  H 465 

Gwin,  William  M ;..  466 

Greeley,  Horace , 471 

(irecue,  Nathaniel 478 

Goodrich,  Frank  P 479 

Greene,  Albert  G „ 479 

Greene,  Samuel  Stillman,  LL  D 483 

Gould,  Hannah  F 500 

(roodrich,  .S.  G „ 511 

Gail  Hamilton _ 512 

Gray,  Asa „ 515 

Greenleaf,  Simon „ 520 

(iood  Old  Days,  The 581 

(ireen  Vault,  The 595 

(iartield,  .\necdote  of _ 603 

Goose,  The  Wild 630 

Giratfe,  The 664 

(lold  and  Silver  in  Photographs 707 

tJun,  Bursting  a 714 

Glass,  A  Wonder  in 715 


1006 


INDEX. 


Generated  Poisons 823 

Grave,  Tne 832 

Girl,  A  Little 337 

God,  Me  Use 843 

God's  Works 855 

God  is  Love 856 

God  and  Providence,  Tempting  of 858 

God  Can  Regenerate  us 863 

Gospel  of  Jesus  Christ,  The 902 

Guardians  and  Minor  Children 918 

Gray  Coat  and  Kind  Face 991 

Happy,  The  Way  to  be 26 

Harrv  and  His  Dog 33 

He  Has  No  Mother. 37 

Haines,  May 41 

Hold  On 54 

Happiness 82 

How  to  Walk 115 

Honorable,  Be 119 

Haygood,  Atticus  G.,  D.D 131,  186,  526 

Hopeful  Case,  A 148 

How  to  Teach  a  Class 150 

Home  Atmosphere 169 

Home,  Piety  at 170 

Hint  to  Mothers 172 

Home  a  Reward  of  Toil 173 

Happv  Children 183 

Home,  Life  at 197 

Happy  People 206 

Home,  Opportunities  of 212 

Helps  for  the  Family 215 

Home,  The  Old 215 

Home  Conversation,  Children  and 216 

Home 217,  224 

Home,  The  Queen  of 217 

Home,  The  Blessing  of  a 218 

Home  after  Business  Hours 218 

Home,  The  Light  of 219 

Hale,  Mrs.  Sara  J 219,  475 

Home  Made  Happy 220 

Home,  Influence  of 222 

Home,  The  Happv 225 

Hearth  and  Home 240 

Home,  A  Beautiful 241 

Home,  How  to  Beautify 245 

Hot  Plates 253 

House  Clean,  Keep  the 255 

Hints  to  Young  Mothers 257 

Hanging  Baskets 257 

Hou.semaid,  Our  Indignant 259 

Hot  Water 259 

How  to  Keep  Healthy 263 

Household  liecipes ; 268 

Hop  Yea.st 274 

Hens,  Meat  for 281 

Hahits,  Good  Boys' 290 

Hall,  Ruth 318 

Hu.>sband,  How  to  Treat  a 318 

Honor,  Womaa's 322 

Housekeeper's  Tragedy: 339 

Hidden  Forces 341 

Hami)ton,  Wade 353,  473 

Hindoo  Dream,  The 369 

Heart,  A  Contented 374 

Hymn,  Mv'AIother's 379 

Heavens,  Wonders  of  the 381 

Holmes,  Oliver  Wendell 383,  502 

Hel))s  and  Hindorances 390 

Humor,  The  Fashion  of 391 

How  He  was  Hurt 406 

Hou.se  Fly,  The 412 

Heaven,  Description  of 415 

He  Wa.sn't  I'reparod 415 

Hadn't  Any  Objection 438 

Heroism,  I^ow  Motives 446 

Humboldt,  Alexander  Von 447 

Hill,  Nathaniel  P 467 


Houston,  Samuel 473 

Halleck,  Fitz-Greene 47" 

Headley,  Joel  T 483 

Howe,  Mrs.  Julia  Ward 487 

Havne,  Paul  H 490 

Holland,  Josiah  G.,  M.D 491 

Halpine,  Charles  G 498 

Hawthorne,  Nathaniel 501 

Hale,  Edward  Everett 502 

Harte,  Francis  Bret 504 

Hawthorne,  Julian 504 

Higginson,  Thomas  Wentworth 504 

Howells,  William  Dean 50.") 

Hooper,  Lucy 50S 

Hayden,  F.  V 515 

Hamilton,  Alexander 518 

Hovey,  Alvah,  D.D.,  LL.D 522 

Hopkins,  John  Henry,  D.C.L.,  LL.D 524 

History,  Lessons  from 527 

History  of  a  Song 544 

High  Bridges 548 

Henderson,  Ebenezer 550 

His  Last  Sermon 557 

Heroism  and  Cruelty 572 

History  of  the  Peach 585 

Horse,  A  AVonderful 6OO 

Harrison,  President eo^t 

Hi-story 608 

History,  No  Law  in 610 

Holder,  C.  F 626 

Hawk,  A  Cunning 628 

Hunting,  Alligator 637 

Hunting  Fish  with  Dogs 641 

Human  Longevity 691 

Human  Strength 692 

Human  Temperature 69;! 

Hints  for  Calling  on  the  Sick 809 

Health  Hints 809 

Healthfulness  of  Fruit 820 

Heaven 827,  836 

Hell 836 

Hall,  Bishop 840 

Hope,  Faith,  and  Charity 849 

Hungry  Hearts 851 

IIap])iness 859 

Harmony ; 860 

Humility  Leads  to  Success 860 

Holy  Spirit's  Influences 862 

Honor  Thy  Father  and  Thy  Mother 865 

Home,  Longing  for 865 

Holiness,  The  Beauty  of 807 

Happiness,  What  it  is 870 

Hill,  Rowland 874 

Holiness,  Thoughts  on 885 

Hunger  for  Religious  Literature 895 

Happiness  Depends  on  Thoughts 904 

Homestead  Law,  United  States 940 

Hand  of  Fate,  The 963 

He  Could  be  Trusted 983 

Hiram  Hays  in  Stratford 1000 

I  Can't,  Never  Say 29 

In  Mother's  Place 36 

India,  Feast  of  Lights  in 43 

Importance  of  Well-spent  Youth 66 

If  I  Only  Had  Capital 68 

Influence 96 

Ignorance,  Hopeless 149 

Improvement  Needed 174 

It  Pays 20:5 

Influence  of  Home 222 

Industrv  for  Woman,  An 260 

Indian  llolls 273 

Ice  Cream 277 

Ice  Cream,  Citron 277 

Invalids,  Fresh  Eggs  for 278 

Idlene.ssof  Girls 302 

II  Trovatorc 322 


INDEX. 


lOOi 


Illuntrntlon,  Benntlful 366 

Inviolable.  A  Secret  Should  be 371 

Insiinity,  Kiiiotloiial 434 

Ituliuii '^<lyHt<>In  of  Flogging 448 

Irving.  WaHhingtoii 4M,  984 

Invention.'),  Origin  of 087 

Iceliuulcrs,  Chnriictor  of 550 

Independence,  Declaration  of. S83 

IndeiMMnlonce  Day ;. 684 

Intelligence,  Animal 611 

liitclllgonci'  of  Animals 6'JO 

Insects  a.s  Talkers „..  646 

In.Kuiiity  and  {>riinkeiino8s GWI 

Inhabit'antsof  the  Blood 6a6 

Indians,  Tlie  Language  of 718 

Indian  Captive,  The 769 

India,  The  Monkeys  of 776 

Insanity 811 

In  Summer,  Kcmcmbcr 822 

Immortality,  The  Hope  of 858 

Inhucnccs,  Ifolv  Spirit's 862 

Incident,  A  Beautiful 868 

Impatient 870 

Infidel  I.«cturer8  Converted 895 

Incalculable  Influences 902 

liinoraneo  of  the  Law 914 

Indian  Hunting-law 928 

Joseph 5 

Johnny's  Reason 53 

Jerterson'sTen  Rules 95 

Joke,  A  Practical 102 

Japanese  Engineer,  A '. 115 

Jelly  Sauce ,  282 

Jam,  Grape „ 284 

Jumbo  Tidies ., 287 

Jenny  June  on  Dress : 298 

John   riownian 377 

Josh  Billings's  Proverbs 411 

Judgment,  Wife  versus  Husband 426 

Jurors,  Educated i'Vi 

.Toking  the  Doctor 439 

Jokes,  One  of  .Toe's 447 

Jones,  Charles  W 467 

Johnson,  Reverdy 468 

John.son,  Andrew 473 

Jud.son,  Mrs.  Emily  C 484 

Johnson,  Rossiter 505 

Jone.s,  J.  William,  D.D 511 

John.son,  Alexander  B 516 

Jay,  John 518 

Jeter,  Jeremiah  B.,  D.D 521 

Japanese  Bell _ 547 

Jesus  Christ,  Person  of „ 554 

Java,  Volcanoes  in 563 

Jewels,  Prophetic 590 

Journey  in  a  Caboose,  A 751 

Japan,  Rambles  in  Tokio 762 

Jugglers'  Tricks 765 

Judson's  Rules 842 

Judson,  Dr.  Adoniram 865 

Jew,  Christian,  and  Parsee,  The 879 

Joshua  Compared  to  Lot 906 

Jurors 913 

Kneel  Down,  Papa « 50 

Keeping  House „ 2:57 

Keep  the  House  Clean 255 

Keep  Healthv,  How  to 263 

Kisses  of  Birds 310 

Katydid 383 

King  Frederick  and  the  Giant 397 

Kiss,  Rubbing  it  in 429 

Kenna,  John  E 474 

Kettell,  Samuel „ 478 

Kennedy,  John  P 505 

Key,  Francis  Scott «...  505 

Kane.  Elisha  Kent 513 


Kent,  JamM 610 

Kalmuck*.  The  "Kusaian 6A:i 

KIngxIey,  Row  (J „ 8fl9 

KamuMtofic,  South  Afric* TiM 

King.  An  a 88» 

Kind  Face  and  Ura/  Coat 991 

Luther,  .Martin «. 10 

I>'c,  (Jen.  R.  E 20 

Life  Means  Hard  Work 6M 

Little  Things,  Perfect  in „ •» 

Literature,  Vicious VI 

Little  Things lift 

I.4inguages,  Use  for  the  Dead 117 

I.<-ar!iing,  Teaching  Before I8.*i 

I^anguago,  (rood 166 

I»ve,  \  .Mother's 173 

I»vo  the  Children 1K« 

Little  Robbie 189 

Life  at  Home 197 

Look  for  the  Uood Wi 

Life,  The  True 207 

Look  Out  for  the  Rocks _ 214 

Light  of  Home,  The 219 

Ijut  Home  be  Made  Happy 220 

I>;nion  Svrup - 278 

Light,  Abim 27S> 

Liniment,  A  Good 280 

Lemon  Short-cikke'. 285 

Lainbrequin,  A 287 

Libraries,  To  Preserve 289 

Lady,  The 291 

Lady's  Salutation,  A 305 

Lacking  Development 308 

Lacing,  Tight 312 

Ladies,  Young,  Advice  to 321 

Lucrezia  Jiorgia 322 

Life  Wasted,  A - SJO 

Ix>uis  Fourteenth 332 

I>ove  Story,  A  Genuine 351 

Leper's  Last  Parting,  The 3.'54 

Leper-poet,  The 363 

Lookout 37r 

Let  the  Sunshine  in 378 

lyove,  Manv  Kinds  of 382 

Life,  The  Wine  of 383 

Life,  The  Book  of 389 

Longfellow,HenryWadsworth,LL.D.,:W9,  497 

Lesson,  A 409 

Life,  What  is  it? 411 

Lincoln  and  the  Rogue 426 

Lawver,  (Jreen  and  Yonng 426 

Little  to<i  far,  A 428 

Literal  Obedience 4.35 

Ijcap-Sunday 4.36 

Love-letters,  Had  Some  Already 438 

Lord,  .4.  New,  Never  Heard  of 443 

Iveaders,  American 46U 

Lord's  Prayer,  The,  Rendered 464 

LanCj  Gen.  James  H 468 

Literati,  American 474 

Ivongstreet,  A.  B.,  LL.D 479 

Legare,  Hugh  Swinton 480 

Lowell,  James  Russell,  LL.D 485 

Lipplnciitt,  Mrs.  Sara  Jane 487 

Lipscomb,  Andrew  A.,  D.D.,  LL.D 488 

Lowell,  Robert  T.  S 491 

Leland,  Charles  G 494 

Lossing,  Benson  J 503 

Legal  and  Political  Writers 518 

Livingston,  Edward - 519 

Lessons  from  Hi-story 627 

Labor  of  Authorship,  The 54;j 

Liberty,  Statue  of .547 

J>ake  Superior 571 

Lodi,  The  Bridge  of .578 

I.^ast  Day  of  the  Year  One  Thousand 579 

Lake  Willoughby .- 609 


1008 


INDEX. 


London  Graphic,  Special 610 

land's  End,  England '.. GIO 

Lancey,  T 640 

Lion,  The 661 

Lioness,  Adventure  with  a 664 

Longevity  of  Wild  Animals 672 

Lightning,  The  Speed  of 689 

Longevity,  Human 691 

l>uniber,  Making,  out  of  Straw 714 

"  Lamp,  A  Substitute  for 716 

Language  of  Indians,  The 718 

Little  Old  Man  in  the  Forest,  The 730 

J>ewis,  Dr.  Dio 80.'! 

Lilies,  The  Watered 834 

Ix)rd's  Prayer,  The 838 

Logic,  A  Bov's 84.5 

Lord,  Rest  in  the 850 

Lying  for  the  Truth 8.51 

Life,  My  Lot  in 857 

Legend,  Beautiful 860 

I^rimer,  Dr.  G.  C 862 

Love  and  Truth 863 

Lord's  Converts  and  Man's,  The 867 

Less  and  Less 867 

Lane,  T.  W 878 

Life  is  a  Slate 883 

Little  Sins 884 

Learned  Men,  The  Te.stimony  of 896 

Living  Above  our  Troubles 899 

Life  and  Eternity 906 

Law,  Coramou 907 

Legal  Brevities 914 

Law,  Ignorance  of  the 914 

Ijeases 919 

Liens,  Mechanics' 920 

Liability  in  Partnership 929 

I>ettersof  Credit 932 

Ijei^aX  I^rofpssion,  The 936 

J^iCtters,  Pi-oper  Address  of 940 

Legal  Adiustnient,  Results  of 940 

Lawyer,  'The  Pedantic 997 

Martin  Luther 10 

Molly's  Pennies 29 

Memorial,  A  Touching 30 

.Manners,  Good 31,  209 

Manners,  Post 32 

Mitford,  Mary  Russell 33 

Mother's  Place,  In 36 

Mother,  lit;  has  no .37 

Mamma's  Baddish  Boy 56 

Moss-covered  Bucket,  The 71 

Minutes,  Odd 75 

Man,  Know  Thvself 84 

Marked  Youth.  A 98 

Mathews,  William,  LL.D 133,  511 

Meaning  of  Words 140 

.Manner  and  Manners 160 

Manners.  Table 162 

Making  Boys  Gentlemen 164 

Manners,  Girls' ;..  164 

Mother,  Old-fashioned 168 

Mothers,  A  Hint  to 172 

Mother  and  Daughters,  A 173 

Mother's  Farewell,  A 174 

Mother's  Love,  A 175 

My  Little  Tramp 182 

Mothers,  Take  Heed 199 

Misery,  Domestic 200 

Man.'l'he  Fretful 211 

Mother's  Ix)ve,  A 227 

Mother,  The 231 

Meanness  of  the  World,  The 2:«i 

Mothers,  A  Hint  to 257 

Mackerel,  Salt 268 

Meat,  How  to  Broil 269 

Meat  for  Hens 281 

Men  and  Women  Compared 308 


360, 


485, 


More,  Hannah 

Madame  de  StaSl , 

Maidens  against  Widows , 

Maidenhood,  Charm  of 

Marriage,  Elements  of  a  True. 

Maintenon,  Madame  de 

Marriages,  Runaway 

Mistakes 

Mother,  The  Comforted , 

Milton,  The  Blind  Poet 

Music,  Power  of „ 

Martyr,  A , 

Morris,  George  P 

Marriage  not  the  End  of  Life... 

Model,  The  Artist's ;.... 

Man  of  War,  A 

Mind,  The  Size  of 

Mother  Hubbard  Dress,  The... 

Mining,  Successful 

Mediterranean  Sea,  The , 

Money-making 

Men,  Representative 

Morton,  Oliver  P 

McClellan,  Gen.  George  B 

Macon,  Nathaniel 

Motley,  John  L.,  LL.D.,  D.C.L. 

Mi'lville,  Herman 

Mitchell,  Donald  G 

McConuell,  John  L 

Milburn,  William  Henry,  D.D 

McKenzie,  Robert  Shelton,  M.D.,  D.C.L. 

^Moulton,  Mrs.  Louisa  Chandler 

Miles  O'Reilly- 

Miller,  .Joaquin 

Mark  Twain 

Maury,  Matthew  F 

Mason,  LoweJl 

Marsh,  Othniel  Charle.s 

Morse,  Jedediah 

Murray,  Lindley 

Mell,  P.  H.,  D.D 

Mather,  Cotton,  D.D 

Meade,  William,  D.D 

McClintock,  .Tohn,  D.D .' 

Mason  and  I>ixon's  Line 

Mahdi,  El 

Memory,  Stewart's  Marvelous 

Mines  and  Miners  in  Chili 

Mecklenburg  Declaration 

Modern  Discovery 

Mallalieu,  W.  F 

>[onte(iore,  Sir  Moses 

Mother  of  a  Family,  A 

McCav,  C.  T.,  Professor 

Mistake  About  History 

Mill.  .John  Stuart ." 

Mocking-bird,  The  Doctor's 

Miller,  Olive  Thorne 

Mosquitoes 

Massauger  Snake 

Mammal,  An  Egg-laying 

Monkey  Found  Out,  How  the 

Madagascar  Monkey,  A 

Magnetic  Pole,  The 

jran.The  Development  of _ 

Metals,  Some  Strange 

Measuring  a  Tree 

Monkeys  of  India,  Tlie 

Management  of  Children 

Model  Sermon,  The 

MoOjsh,  Doctor 

Mariners,  Misguided 

Myrrh-bearers 

Muloch,  Dinah 

Master's  Table,  The 

My  Jx)tin  Life .'..... 

Modern  Skepticism 

Morning  Worship 


31  .> 
317 
320 
327 
.SSO 
332 
337 
338 
31.5 
3-17 
347 

a5* 

A~\> 
370 
409 
412 
432 
43a 
437 
439 
447 
465 
468 
471 
472 
608. 
486 
488 
49(» 
492 
493 
493 
498 
.502 
50<> 
514 
516 
516 
516 
516 
.522 
523 
524 
.525 


.549 
.5.54 
5.56 
564 
583 
587 
595 
59» 
599 
605 
009 
610 
630 
646 
652 
6;)7 
669 
672 
674 
689 
690 
70(> 
720 
776 
SOi 
841 
845 
845 
846 
849 
854 
857 
85» 
86& 


INDEX. 


1009 


MaJMtvof  Bible  I'reoepUi. The 868 

Mother's  OlUring,  The 878 

Man's  AdviintaKo  over  Aaimalii 904 

Mochniiii's' Liviia 920 

Mortfjam'H : 928 

Mooiisliiiie  Kumanco,  A „„  900 

Mi.nk,  Thf  <.n<ll  and  the 981 

Marriage,  A  French 998 

Nelst>n,  Knte  C _ 02 

Not  Al>ove  Work ^ 60 

Nobly  Done 108 

Never  Uespoud „ 109 

No  Dadilvisni IM 

Names  of  Colleges 130 

Neatness 28<5 

Nursery  Walls,  To  Brighton 287 

Novels  and  Novel-reading 300 

Never  Answered  Back 833 

Nature  ("rios  for  Freedom     851 

Nitjlit-blooniine  Cereus 361 

Nobilitv.Tlie  Essence  of  True „ 389 

Not  as  Mild  as  He  I»oked 405 

Newly-married  Lady,  A 438 

Name?  What's  in  a 444 

Nott,  Henry  Junius 478 

News,  The  Era  of 643 

New  York  Bridge,  The 548 

North-west,  How  the,  Was  Saved 559 

New  York  in  Olden  Time 670 

Nest,  A  Remarkable 625 

Needle,  Finding  a 715 

Natural  Appetites 717 

Negro,  A  Trusty 750 

Natives,  Trying  to  Astonish  the 790 

Nurses'  Methods,  Trained 807 

Nature 815 

Nobleman,  An  English,  as  a  Reformer...  84'2 

Ncstorlan  Missionaries  in  China   902 

Newspapers  in  Canada,  Sunday 902 

Notes,  Uncollectable 928 

Notaries  Public „ 935 

Only  a  Boy 46 

Odd  Minutes 75 

Old-fashioned  Mother 168 

Oil,  A  Little 210 

Old  Home,  The 215 

Old  People,  Food  for 266 

Okra 272 

Oatmeal  Rolls 278 

Oatmeal  Porridge 285 

Overwork  Among  Women 324 

Old-fashioned  Girl,  The 335 

Oratory 368 

Old  Wife,  The 372 

Only  a  Word 375 

Old  Joke  Versified 403 

Old  Hickory,  Aneddote  of 417 

Outspoken 427 

Obedience,  Literal 435 

Oxford  Master,  The 435 

Objection,  He  Hadn't  any 438 

One  of  "  Joe-'s  "  Jokes 447 

Owen,  Robert  Dale 496 

Otey,  J.  H.,  D.D 624 

Origin  of  Various  Customs 537 

Oregon  and  Washington  Territory 659 

Olden  Time  in  New  York,  The 570 

Oriental  Fanatics 574 

Old  Times 596 

Onion  Tract,  The 610 

Oak-tree  near  Raleigh,  N.  C 610 

Owl,  An  Aged 629 

Otter,  The 670 

Orang-outang,  Saved  by  an 673 

Ocean  Waves , 702 

Outwitted 787 

64 


PtMt  Manners 

p)iv«i,ff..,    I  iw.  iipver.. 

V  h 

1  :l..... 


Overworked  Stomachs 810 

Orstorsas  Medicine , 82A 

Old  Way-train,  The UA 

Objector  Faith,  The 86S 

Offcrinc,  The  Mother's ». 878 

Oriental  Story.  An 973 

Objected  to  being  Watohed 990 


32 
80 

39 
42 
Sll 

ri 
n 

74 
377 

99 
102 
118 
132 
138 
143 
161 
170 
172 
180 
181 
184 
20S 
205 
206 
212 
216 
231 
235 
239 
252 
263 
263 
272 
272 
272 

m 

276 
276 
276 
275 
275 
277 
278 
278 
279 
280 
282 
283 
284 
284 
286 
288 
288 
327 
335 
^5 
347 
357 
350 
857 
470 
846 
382 
384 
387 
387 
40r> 
409 
4i:< 
416 


1'. ...  ;.....>,  lUiogS 

I'ulmcr,  T.  11 —„ 

Patience » 

Patient,  Be 

Plowman,  John 79, 

Prophecy,  A _ 

Practical  Joke,  A 

Push „ 

Public  Men,  Colloge-bred - 

Procter,  Adelaide  A 

Paganini,  The  Oenius 

Parental  Responsibility 

Piety  at  Home 

Paying  Debts _ 

Parentage,  Christian 

I'recoclty „ 

Purpose,  A  New  Desire  and 

Pays,  It „ 

Pleasures,  Cheap 

People,  Happy 

Poverty,  Self-made 

Practical  Calculation,  A 

Peck,  Jesse  T 

Perilous  Times 

Pulp 

Politeness,  Table..., 

Plates,  Hot 

Proverbs,  Gastrononllc 

Pickles,  Sweet,  Vinegar _ 

Peaches,  To  Can 

Potatoes,  To  Boil -_ 

Popovers 

Pudding,  Baked  Batter 

Pudding,  (ireen  Corn 

Pudding,  Quick . 

Pudding,  Poor  Man's 

Pudding,  Cottage „ 

Puddings,  Sweet  Sauce  for.„ 

Pie,  Lemon 

Peaches,  Dried  Preserved 

Pepper,  Grind  Your  Own 

Plant  Lice,  Cure  for 

Pie,  Cream,  Improved 

Pudding,  Rice,  A  New  Way  to  Make 

Preserves,  Tomato 

Picserves,  Plum 

Porridge,  Oatmeal 

Photographs,  Cabinet  Case  for 

Purify  a  Room,  To 

Proverbs  Concerning  Wives 

Please,  How  Girls  May 

Parepa  Rosa t 

Power  of  Music „. 

Pollard,  Josephine 850, 

Pleasures,  Appreciation  of 

Pluck  and  Prayer _ 

PrentLss,  .S.  S 359, 

Preston,  Maripiret  J 362,  498, 

Poem,  The  Prize 

Patriotism  and  Authors 

Personality  and  Style 

Princess's  iDiamonds,  A _ 

Prevention,  An  Ounce  of 

Pupil,  An  Apt 

Patent  Mode  of  Living,  The 

Prompter  told  Him,  The 


1010 


INDEX. 


Promising  Affair,  A 416 

Peet  and  Peters 425 

Potato,  How  to  Spell , 428 

Parrot  at  the  Telephone,  The 430 

Pardon  Granted 43.'? 

Part,  Ready  to  Take  a 443 

Predicament,  The  Elder's 449 

Prentiss,  S.  S.,  Characteristics  of 463 

Prayer,  A  Rendition  of  the  Lord's 464 

Pavne,  John  Howard 475 

Prescott,  William  H.,  LL  D 477 

Poe,  Edgar  Allen  ..» 482 

Parton,  James 491 

Porter,  Noah,  D.D.,  LL.D 495 

Partington,  Mrs 499 

Pike,  Albert 502 

Palfrey,  John  G 506 

Parkman,  Francis 506 

Paulding,  James  Kirke 506 

Porcival,  James  G.,  M.D 506 

Phelps,  Mrs.  Elizabeth  Stuart 509 

Phelps,  Elizabeth  Stuart 509 

Peter  Parley 511 

Packard,  A.'S.,  Jr 517 

Political  and  Legal  Writers 518 

Pliillips,  Wendell 519 

Pendleton,  James  M.,  D.D 522 

People  of  Canton,  The 558 

Peaches,  A  Land  of 561 

Powerful  Rival,  A 563 

Population,  The  Center  of 571 

Palestine,  Explored 572 

Pratt,  Enoch 582 

Peach,  History  of  the 585 

Prophetic  Jewels 590 

Pygmies,  The 597 

Penguinnery,  A 624 

Pavo,  The 626 

Parrot  and  the  Fire,  The 631 

Progenitors  Numbered: 693 

Pulse  of  Animals,  The        696 

Poison  in  the  CoflTee-cup 699 

Peppermint,  Some  Facts  About 700 

Photographs,  Gold  and  Silver  in 707 

Population,  Ratio  of  Increase 709 

Perilous  Ride,  A 772 

Potassium,  Bromide  of,  and  Chloral 812 

Pneumonia,  Causes  of 812 

Palpitation  of  the  Heart 818 

Poisons,  Generated 823 

Prayer,  the  Key , 835 

Prayer,  Settle  Disputes  with 838 

Prayer,  The  Lord's 838 

Prayer,  The  Pastor's 839 

Practical  Religion 840 

Prayer,  Opinions  of  Great  Men 840 

Prayer,  Great  Need  of 841 

Preaching 847 

Paul  and  His  Work 859 

Peace,  When  Christ  Gives 861 

Praises,  Songs  of 864 

Prayer 871 

Peru,  The  Bible  in 877 

Parsee,  Jew,  and  Christian,  The 879 

Preacher,  A  Wrecked 883 

Perjury 884 

Praying  and  Fighting 889 

Personal  Character 897 

Principles  Presented,  Temperance 898 

Power  of  Song,  The 903 

Prayers,  I.iong  and  Empty 904 

Pillows,  Three  Wonderful 904 

Promise,  Trust  the 906 

Prayers,  Attractive 906 

Partnership 921 

Patents 924 

Partnership,  Liability  in 929 

I'ronii.ssory  Notes 93:! 


Party,  A  Thanksgiving 967 

Paul  and  Virginia 977 

Pedantic  Lawyer,  The 997 

Queen  and  the  Sick  Child,  The 30 

Questions,  Asking 50 

Queen  of  Home,  The 217 

Quilts,  Novelty  in 290 

Queer  Little  Beast,  A 674 

Queer  Freaks  of  Watches 708 

Rule,  Changed  the 53 

Ridicule 80 

Rudderless 83 

Right  Way,  The 86 

Riches,  the  Vanity  of 97 

Rules  for  Boys  and  Girls 99 

Rabbi  of  Little  Learning,  The 130 

Reserved  Forces 136 

Reckoning,  A  Short 147 

Responsibility,  Parental 151 

Religion,  The  Family 186 

Robbie,  Little 189 

Reading  Aloud 195 

Reproof,  The  Wife's 203 

Rocks,  Look  Out  for 214 

Rock  Me  to  Sleep 234 

Rules,  Good 240 

Recipes,  Household 268 

Raisins,  Don't  Wash 272 

Rolls,  Indian 273 

Rolls,  Oatmeal 273- 

Rusks 273 

Rice,  Southern  Mode  of  Cooking 276 

Ring,  To  Remove 281 

Rice-pudding 283 

Raspberries,  Canning 285 

Room,  To  Purify 288 

Reading 325 

Runaway  Marriages 337 

Robinson,  C.  S.,  D.D 349 

Reconciled 3-^3 

Russian  Church 358 

Remorse 359 

Russell,  Henry 360 

Railway  Lesson,  A • 366 

Ruskin,  John 370 

Reconstruction 384 

Royal  Quandary,  A 401 

Rustics 407 

Retorts 419 

Railroad  Station,  A  Private 420 

Roberts,  David,  and  the  Art  Critic 426 

Railroad  Employee,  The 436 

Rugby  (Mugby)  Junction 436 

Revenge,  A  Child's 437 

Religion,  Stretchy 442 

Ready  to  Take  a  Part , 443 

Romeo-homeo        445 

Returning  Thanks 450 

Representative  Men ^ 465 

Read,  Thomas  B 490 

Roe,  Azel  Stevens 501 

Roe,  Rev.  Edward  Payson 501 

Religious  Denominational  Writers 521 

Runner,  A  Famous 557 

Rival,  A  Powerful 562 

Raven  Jack,  My 627 

Rooster,  A  Valiant 629 

Robin,  The 631 

Reckless  Bee,  The 651 

Rats  Having  Fun 674 

Russian  Fish  Supply 702 

Rocks,  Splitting 716 

Ride,  A  Perilous 772 

Romances  of  Banditti,  Two 781 

Rise  with  the  Lark 820 

Remember.  In  Summer 822 


INDEX. 


1011 


Religion,  How  to  Clieapen 833 

lU-buko,  A  Bov'd 83fi 

RfliKion,  rructlcal  »40 

Kcforiiier,  An  KdkIIbIi  Nobleman  m  «...  M2 

Riilux,  .lud.Hon'H 812 

RtUjjion,  Whi'olbnrrow W4 

lU'buko,  A  W(>ll-iiierit«d 84.5 

Rtvstin  Uie  I/)rd 830 

Kjiin,  Tho  Way  of  the 85« 

lU'iiiurkublo  Coincidence 8M 

lleflottion 800 

Ri'linion,  An  Every-dajr 867 

Units  for  Christians /  880 

RoliKion  is  a  Temper SW 

Rest,  Soul ^ 81)8 

Rutberforil,  iSanuiel 89S 

Ruli^'ioii,  Kxainple  of 902 

Reynolds,  Louis*;  Heywood ^<^ 

ReliKion,  A  Wronn;  Kind  of. 9a'> 

R<'ri'ipts 912 

liailroad  and  Express  CoiupanieK 9:<5 

Romance,  A  Moonshine 950 

Selfishness , 31 

Stage-coach,  Playing 39 

Sad  Disease,  A 39 

Selling  the  Baby 41 

Story  of  the  Doll  that  Spoke 57 

Santa  Glaus 60 

Succeed,  You  Can 71 

Scholar's  Enthusiasm,  The 87 

Soul,  The  lX)or  of  the 88 

Schubert 88 

Side-shows 89 

Sowing  Wild  OaU 90 

Swira,  Learn  to 107 

Something,  Do 112 

Studious,  Be 116 

School  Vacation 132 

Successful  Men  Zealous 137 

.Scholars,  Deaf 137 

School,  Over-pressure  at 137 

Study,  Injurious 137 

Six  Little  Words 141 

Scholar,  An  Ignorant 142 

Sliort  Reckoning,  A 147 

Sensible  Advice 167 

Sturges,  Mary  U 182 

Speak  Gently 206 

Self-made  Poverty 212 

Spurgeon,  Charles  H 212,  831,  838,  841 

Servants 214 

Spraguc,  Charles 226 

Surveyor  the  Week 230 

Schools,  American 235 

Soup,  Vermicelli — 271 

Soup,  Beef 271 

Soup,  Pea 271 

Soup,  Clam 271 

Salad  Dressing ™ 272 

Sponge-cake 276 

Sweet  Sauce  for  PiMdings 277 

Sick  Folk's  Recipes 278,  279 

Sour  Drink 278 

Syrup,  Lemon 278 

Soot,  Use  of.  In  the  Garden 281 

Shirts,  To  do  up  Nicely 281 

Sick,  Summer  Food  for  the 282 

Sauce,  Arrow-root 282 

Sauce  for  Beefsteak 283 

Sick-,  Food  for  Convalescent 283 

Short-cake,  Lemon 285 

Shelf  for  Bed-room „ 287 

Sofa  Pillow 287 

Sand-bag  for  the  Sick-room,  A 288 

Staining  Brown  Color 289 

Skill 301 

Salutation,  A  Lady's 305 


.S'b<K>t-mnrni'«  Storr,  Tb« 806 

—  fJong, 'I'ho _ SOB 

iiig  Dinner  to 312 

I. SIS 

.Sai'c.iiiiii ,  31ft 

Sweet  Sixteen 319 

Smi  lit  V.  1'%'inale 320 

I  822 

Mr...  L.  H 328,  475 

V,  That - an 

i'ower  of.... 84» 

,    „„  3B0 

I'il'e .'.'.'".'.'..!! "!"""". 356 

Siiiulkr.i,  Critical ._ 386 

She  Ix.ved  Me  for  .Myself _ 360 

Soul's  lx)iiging8,  The _ 364 

Silent  Griefs 364 

Sheldon,  C.  H 366 

Stars  Beyond 378 

Sunshine,  Ixtt  in  the „ 878 

Scolding  and  Fretting 878 

S*)ng,  An  Old 880 

Summer's  Joys 88ft 

Style,  Personality  and 887 

Similitude,  A 887 

Stump  Orator,  The 888 

Scotch  .Jamie  in  the  Pulpit 424 

Shut  the  Door 427 

Spittoons  for  Two « 428 

Spell  Potato,  How  to 428 

Sheep?  Will  You  Take  a 481 

School  Cr>mmittee'8  Criticism,  A 431 

Satan  and  the  Little  Girl 432 

Scripture  Quoted i....  432 

Sting  of  a  Bee 434 

School-girl  Defines  Average,  A 434 

Swine  in  Siam 434 

Story,  A  Tough 440 

Shirt,  Song  of  the  All-wool _ 441 

Stretchy  Religion _ 442 

Seaforth,  Ijord 444 

Shakespeare,  Altered „ 445 

Save  Her,  She  is  My  Wife 450 

Self-controlled  Youth,  A 461 

Stephens,  Alexander  H , 467 

Soule,  Pierre 469 

Sumner,  Charles,  LL.D 469 

Simms,  William  Gilraore„ 481 

Stephens,  Mrs.  Ann  S 481 

Stowe,  Mrs.  Harriet  Beecher 4K} 

Southworth,  Mrs.  Emma  D.  E.  N 484 

Saxe,  JohnG.,LL.D 485,  997 

Sargent,  Epes 485 

Sawyer,  Mrs.  Caroline  M.„ 486 

Stoddard,  Richard  Henry 489 

Smith,  Samuel  Francis 49a 

Shlllaber,  Benjamin  P 499 

Sparks,  Jared 507 

Spotford,  Mrs.  Harriet  Elizabeth 507 

Stanley,  Henry  M 507 

Scieutiiic  Writers 513 

Squier,  E.  G 51.i 

Silliman,  Benjamin HVJ 

Story,  Joseph „ 518 

Seward,  William  H 520 

Schatr,  Philip,  D.D 624 

Summers,  Thomas  O.,  D.D.,  LL.D 525 

Song,  History  of  a 544 

Statue  of  Liberty,  The 547 

Suspension  Bridge,  The 649 

Stewart's  Marvelous  Memory ^ 556 

Sermon,  His  Last 657 

Superior,  Lake „ 571 

Small  Seed,  Fruit  from  a...., 586 

Sons,  Value  ofi ". 594 

.Seventy,  A  Mother  of  a  Family  of 599 

Scotland  and  Hor  Thistle 602 

Stinging  Tree,  The 608 


1012 


INDEX. 


Smell,  Birds  Cannot 625 

Shark-fight  on  Land,  A 636 

Spider,  Fun  with  a 651 

Snakes,  Western 655 

Snakes,  Curious  Facts  About 656 

Stories  About  the  Bear 666 

Science  Contrasted  with  Art 675 

Science  and  the  Bible 685 

Speed  of  Lightning/ The 689 

Strength,  Human  692 

Sea,  Under  the 701 

Some  Strange  Metals 706 

Stars,  Double 711 

Sun-spots 713 

Straw,  Making  Lumber  Out  of 714 

Substitute  for  a  Lamp,  A 716 

Splitting  Eocks 716 

Sahara  Desert,  Heat  of  the 758 

Shark,  Caught  by  a 779 

Stanley  and  Livingstone 782 

Scene,  A  Thrilling 786 

South  Sea  Lsland  Castaways 788 

Sick-room,  Food  for  the 805 

Stomachs,  Overworked 810 

Sequels  of  Disease 813 

Science  of  Alcohol,  The 821 

Spurgcon,  Kev.  C.  H 831,  838,  904 

Song  of  Abel  in  Heaven,  The 837 

Satan  Rocks  the  Cradle 840 

Sermon,  The  Model 841 

Sweetness  of  Spirit 847 

Sangster,  Margaret  E 850 

Store-house,  God's 855 

Soul,  Value  of  a 856 

Skepticism,  >Ioderu 858 

Something  He  did  Know 861 

Surrender,  A  Full 862 

Songs  of  Praises 864 

Spurgeon  and  Prayer 869 

Sin,  Fleeing  from 875 

Stereotyped 876 

Statements,  Two 876 

Selah 880 

Speech,  A  Convict's 882 

Sins,  Little 884 

Sin,  South  African  Legend  About 884 

Spiritual  Wisdom 890 

Song  of  Trust  and  Love,  A 892 

Skull  That  Had  a  Tongue.  A 893 

Sabbath,  A  Day  of  Best,  The 893 

Soul  Rest 898 

Souls,  Best  thing  for 901 

Song,  The  Power  of 903 

Sin,  Potent  Energies  of 904 

Stand 905 

Satan,  Still  Tempting 906 

Spiritual  Mind,  A 906 

Success  and  Common  Sense 906 

Sale  and  Contract,  Laws  of 930 

Sizer,  Nelson 836 

Scarecrow,  The 949 

Story,  The  Flagman's 960 

Sleep,  The  Angel 973 

Story,  An  Oriental 973 

Saint  Pierre,  Bernardin  de 977 

Story,  An  Arab 990 

Story  UAA  bv  Charles  Dickens 999 

Stratford,  Kfiram  Hays  in 1000 

Shortest  Man,  The 1000 

Touching  Memorial,  A 30 

Two  Pennies 51 

Try,  Try  Again 72 

Too  Late,  A  Day 76 

Turning  Points 78 

Trite  Sayings „ 79 

Talmage,  T.  De  Witt 96,  213 

Thorough,  Be 108 


Trade,  Drawing Ill 

Time  to  Grow  in 120 

Teaching  Before  Learning 135 

Table  Manners 162 

Training  Children,  Rules  for 1G5 

Tramp,  Mv  Little 182 

True  Lifc,'The 207 

Table,  The  Family 250 

Table,  Display  of  Color 251 

Table  Politeness 252 

Table,  Flowers  on  the 252 

Things  Done 2.54 

Tho.se  Bills 264 

Taffy,  Butter 277 

Tomatoes,  Fried 278 

Tea,  Beef 279 

Tea,  To  Make 279 

Tarts,  Filling  for 282 

Tomatoes,  Preserved 284 

Tomatoes,  Recipe  for  Keeping 286 

Table,  To  Ornament  the 287 

Tidies,  Jumbo : 287 

Toilet,  A  Necessity  for  the 288 

The  Lady 291 

True  Womanhood 295 

Taking  Dinner  to  School 312 

Tight  Lacing  no  Help 312 

Tu thill,  Mrs.  Louisa  C 313,  487 

Tittle-tattle,  Silly 316 

Toilets,  A  Contrast  in 323 

That  Summer  Day 329 

True  Marriage,  Elements  of  a 330 

Tragedy,  A  Housekeeper's 339 

Turner,  Eliza  S 339 

That  Boy 371 

Things  that  Never  Die 376 

They  Met  by  Chance 377 

Taine 382 

Tying  the  Knot 424 

Treacherous  Memory,  A 424 

Three  Brothers  in  Noah's  Ark 425 

Tramps 427 

Too  Far,  A  Little 428 

Telephone,  The  Parrot  at  the 430 

Their  Agreement 433 

Temper,  Inherited 434 

Temperance,  A  Lecture  on 445 

Toucey,  Isaac,  LL.D 466 

Ticknor  George,  LL.D 477 

Taylor,  Bayard 489 

Timrod,  Henry 491 

Trowbridge,  John  T 496 

Trumbull,  John 508 

Terhune,  Mrs.  Mary  Virginia 512 

Toy,  C.  H.,D.D.,  LL.D 522 

Thornwoll,  James  H.,  D.D .526 

Treasury,  The  Anam 546 

Tree,  The  Oldest  and  Largest 560 

Tree,  The  Stinging 608 

Trout  Flaked  with  Gold 641 

Tartar,  He  Caught  a 652 

Tame  Cobras        653 

Telephone,  Field  of  thef. 686 

Telegraph,  The  Rapid 688 

Telescopes 710 

Tree,  Measuring  the  Height  of  a 720 

Timber  Hou.ses,  Durable 720 

Taylor,  Bishop  William 736 

Trusting  a  Cossack 743 

Trusty  Negro,  A 750 

Tokio,  Japan,  A  Ramble  in 762 

Tricks,  Jugglers'  765 

Tiger  Adventure,  A 767 

Thou.sand  Days  in  the  Wild  Land,  A 782 

Thrilling  Scene,  A 786 

Treed 789 

Trained  Nurses'  Methods 807 

Turpentine 814 


INDEX. 


1013 


Turpentine  and  Cnrbulic  Acid 81S 

TruutuH-ul  of  Tuuiliiicbe « 81." 

ThoCol.l  Bath h 

ThoinpHoii,  Itev.  John  Khey  ..^ ,- 

Train,  The  OM  Way ,- 

Triitli,  I-yiugfor  tlio s 

Treatment  ot  Others ;.. 

Truth,  Mode  of  Kiudiog  the «... 

Triilh,  t,'hri8t  i.s  the 85<i 

Truth  and  Ix)ve 863 

Turnini'  I'oint,  The '„  867 

Truths  I'reachcd,  Influence  of  the 874 

Test,  The 881 

Thoughts  on  Uolincfu 885 

Trust  (lod.  Ability  to 892 

The  Two  Weavers 894 

Testimony  of  Learned  Men,  The 896 

Temperance  Principles  Presented 898 

Truth.  Not  Graduated _ 898 

Troubles^  Living  Above  Our 899 

Tendencies  of  Our  Times,  The 902 

Turning  Point  Defined 904 

To-<lay  and  Tomorrow 905 

Token  of  God's  Good-will,  A gO(i 

Thanksgiving  Party,  A..._ 967 

Trusted,  He  Could  be 983 

Theamba,  Insbta 991 

Unknown  Artist,  The 81 

Unnecesssiry  Words 139 

Under  the  Shadow „ 166 

Unity  in  the  Family,  Lack  of 197 

Useful  Hints 264 

Unexplored  and  Unknown „ 661 

Under  the  Sea 701 

United  States,  Population  of  the 709 

Uses  of  Charcoal 807 

Unconsciousness  of  Dying  Persons 820 

Use  Me,  God 843 

Vicious  Literature 92 

"Vanity  of  Riches,  The 97 

Voice,  Look  Out  for  the 118 

Vacation  School 132 

Vegetables,  Novel  Method  of  Cooking...  269 

Vinegar  for  Sweet  Pickles 272 

Vermin,  To  Exterminate 280 

Vanity 315 

Voices,  The  Answering 390 

Ventriloquist's  Joke,  A 418 

Voorsanger,  Rabbi  Jacob.: 524 

Vault.  The  Green 69.5 

Venetian  Reads,  How  Made 703 

Value  of  a  Soul,  The 856 

Value  of  Fiction 941 

Webster,  Daniel 14,  587 

We  are  Seven 24 

Way  to  be  Happy,  The 26 

Winter  Game,  A 40 

Washington  at  School 47 

Watching  One's  Self 51 

Work,  Not  Above 65 

Work,  Life  Means  Hard 68 

Work  Hard 70 

Woodworth.  Samuel 71,  474 

Wild  O&is,  Sowing 90 

Who  are  Your  Associates? „ 105 

Work  Easily,  How  to 109 

Walk,  How  to 115 

Words _ 138 

Words,  Unnecessary 139 

Words,  Wrong 140 

Words,  Meaning  of 140 

Words,  Six  Little 141 

Wheeler,  Ella 149,  388 

Wilde,  Ladv 160 

Whine,  Don't  Let  the  Children 176 


Worthip,  Kamilr 196,  Mg 

Wif.'^  )t.i.i-..f.  The :  203 

•.  (A  the 


33U 


LnlDfc,  Hint  for 2M 

!l.it ^„.„.  Sfl9 

Ii'«m1  J'rue -.^.«^....„  Me 

I  GirUat  floiDC MB 

Whul  Saved  Him ^„ %l\ 

WlMh-twne.The „ „,„  $lg 

Women,   Happiest „ tig 

Woman'M  Honor „.,„  SJQ 

Woman's  Inteifrity „ .,,„, MS 

Women,  Overwork  Among..., SS4 

Woman,  A  Cheerful 396 

Wives,  Proverbs  (Vjneerning 327 

Woman,  An  KzcoUent  Thing  in... 8S3 

When  I  am  Dead „ ggj 

Woodman,  Spare  that  "Tree _„..„ S60 

Wife, Che  Old 872 

Word,  Only  a „ 875 

Winter 8g| 

Wonders  of  the  Heavens „ _  881 

Wine  of  Life,  The 883 

Widows 408 

Wrong  Man,  The 408 

Why  He  Cried 410 

Warner,  Charles  Dudley 413,414,  498 

Ward,  Artenius,  Story  of 416 

Whistling 419 

Watts,  Iiiaac,  Joke  of 434 

Watch-dog,  A  Good 426 

Welsh  Juuge,  Advice  to  a 426 

Will  You  Take  a  Sheep? 431 

Watch,  Sell  it  Because  Worthless ;.  432 

Wrinkles 432 

Wall  Street,  Advice  About 434 

What's  in  a  Name? _ 444 

Wife,  My,  Save  Her 450 

Webster,  Stories  of 460 

Webster,  Clav,  and  Calhoun „  461 

Windom,  William 470 

Woodbury,  Levi „ 471 

Wilniot,  David 472 

Wise,  Gen.  Henry  A 474 

Willis,  Nathaniel  P 481 

Wise,  Capt.  Henry  A „ 486 

Willis,  Saca  I'ayson 492 

Winthrop,  Theodore _ 494 

White,  Richard  Grant '. 496 

Whittier,  John  Greenleaf 499.  833 

Whitman,  Walter 600 

Whitman,  Mrs.  Sarah  Helen 600 

Warner,  Susan 508 

Willard.  Mrs.  Emma 508 

Wirt,  William 608 

Worcester,  Joseph  Emerson 508 

Writers,  Children's _...„ 611 

Writers,  Scientific 618 

Worthington,  Hooker 615 

Wilson,  Alexander 617 

Wilson,  Henry ^ 620 

Wavland,  Francis 822 

Whedon,  Daniel  D.,  D.D 625 

Willets,  A.  A.,  D.D 526 

Washington,  Singular  Facts  About- 546 

Westminster  Abbev 569 

Wages  and  Labor,  American..... 605 

Willoughby,  Lake 609 

Wild  Goose,  The (8» 

Western  Snakes 655 

Worms,  Earth 694 

What  the  Diver  Sees 701 

Watehes,  Queer  Freaks  of 708 

Wonder  in  Glass,  A 715 

Wide,  Wild  Land,  The - 782 

We  Shall  Get  Home 881 

Which? ^ 844 


1014 


INDEX. 


Wheelbarrow  Religion 844 

Well-merited  Rebuke,  A 845 

Word  Spoken  in  Season,  A 850 

Way  of  the  Rain,  The 853 

Whitney,  Mrs.  A.  D.  T 853 

Watch,  Wheels  in  a , 853 

Work  in  Life  Assigned,  Each  One's 857 

World  Growing  Better,  The 858 

Waxing  and  Waning 859 

Watson 860 

Worship,  Morning 865 

Weaver,  J.  M 869 

Wrecked  Preacher,  A 883 

Winning  Address,  A 887 

Weavers,  The  Two 894 

World  Growing  Better,  The 902 

Wills 925 

Wish  Three  Times 979 

Young  American  Grit 61 


Youth,  Importance  of  a  Well-spent 66 

You  Can  Succeed 71 

Youth 87 

Youth,  A  Marked 98 

Young  Men,  Advice  to 100 

Yeast,  Hop 274 

Years  Pass  On,  The 826 

Youth,  A  Self-controlled 461 

Yancey,  William  L 465 

Youmans,  Edward  L 514 

Youmans,  William  J 514 

Youmans,  Eliza  A 514 

Year  One  Thousand,  Last  Day  of  the....  579 

Youthful  Aspirations 721 

Young  Atheists 852 

Yonge,  Charlotte  M 998 

Zealous  Men  the  Successful  Ones 137 

Zinc,  To  Clean 287 

Zulu  Belle,  A 415 


GENERAL  LIBRARY 
UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA— BERKELEY 

RETURN  TO  DESK  FROM  WHICH  BORROWED 

This  book  is  due  on  the  last  date  stamped  below,  or  on  the 

date  to  which  renewed. 

Renewed  books  are  subject  to  immediate  recall. 


24 wa-^'  - 

J  AN  10  ISdc-^ 


YD  0345 


■-miS^LM 


f"3 


i.'xKk. 


